Linda Milagros Violago’s middle name is the Spanish word for “miracles.” I'd have guessed that for her it served as a sort of talisman, a reminder our lives are often uplifted by a wealth of little graces. But for Violago, I also read it as somewhat ironic, because this is a person who has no need of intercession.

Born in Winnipeg into a first-generation Filipino family, Violago is as self-made as they come. Having grown up in the ‘70s in a place that was not exactly known for culinary arts, her interest in wine and food culture led to a kind of voracious itinerancy: she traveled the world, filled her cup with beverages, absorbing them as she went. 

She’s worked front of the house in 13 countries, from Michelin-starred tables in Europe to fine and casual dining in North America—including, during the pandemic, at a Winnipeg ice cream shop. She’s worked harvests in four countries, and brewed sake in a fifth (Japan). She’s the only person, she claims, to have been hired by Charlie Trotter four times. Which means she’s been rehired three times—three times, the Trotter team wanted her back. As to why she left, Violago says, “What can I say? I get restless.”

Perhaps her nomadic ways have met their cul-de-sac at Canlis, Seattle’s finest fine dining restaurant, which will celebrate its 75th year in business in 2025. The Canlis family is one of the country’s consummate hosts, in a beautiful setting overlooking Lake Union, with menus that show a fidelity to place and generous, comfortable, authentic hospitality. It also has built what’s likely the finest wine program in the Pacific Northwest by a mile. At 104 pages, it’s famous for its breadth, its depth, and its commitment to the wines of the region. That’s where our Zoom conversation started. 

This interview has been edited for clarity.

New Wine Review: This is such an amazing list. Seems like a labor of love for many years and many wine directors. Are there sections that serve as vestigial reminders of its authors?

Linda Milagros Violago: Oh yes, and of palates. We’ve got a boatload of Joseph Phelps and Opus One from older vintages. Nothing at all against those wineries, and people do occasionally still buy those wines, but that’s just not the direction that a lot of our guests are going right now. 

And then yes, different directors had different passions and those are reflected in the list. Shayn Bjornholm (M.S.) and Jackson Rohrbaugh (M.S.) are responsible for a lot of the German Rieslings; both did a lot to flesh out that section. We’re deep in Krug and Château Rayas because of Nelson Daquip. 

NWR: Who’s your customer now, 75 years in?

LMV: There's a young demographic that's coming here. Right now the guests are spending differently. Post pandemic, people were spending bucketloads of money, right? Two years on, it's an election year, and people are being more cautious, but they still want to have a good time. 

We have wines on our list for anyone. You don't have to spend a lot of money to drink something that's tasty, that'll make you happy. We're trying to spend more time on the dining room floor with the guests. I want you just to feel comfortable. Some people feel self-conscious about how to talk about what they want. They can say what they want when they buy a car, and when they buy clothes, but for some reason when you’re out for dinner you’re supposed to have this special wine vocabulary. 

That’s the craft of what we do; we’re skilled at listening to what you have to say. But I'm also paying attention to what you don't say. 

It's also important to remember that our demographic has changed. The faces on the floor and in the kitchen—the staff—have changed quite a lot. There are people who come up to me and say “Wow, seeing you on the floor makes me feel welcome here,” and I’m just like “Man, I'm sorry that you never felt welcome before, because that was never the intention, but you’re very welcome now!”

It’s so foreign for me to talk about this because this is the skin I’ve lived in and when both Chef Aisha (Ibrahim) and I arrived [in 2021], a big deal was made about our otherness. Not within the building, but in the press. Yet we’re all doing just what we’ve been doing, just as we’ve been doing before our arrival. We don’t take for granted that representation matters, and that maybe we really are unique in the world of hospitality here in Washington.

HIDDEN GEMS ON THE CANLIS WINE LIST

2017 Hors Catégorie Walla Walla Valley Syrah ($630)

2021 Itä Walla Walla Valley Syrah ($120)

I want to go with two Walla Walla winemakers, Hors Catégorie and Itä. Both are iconoclasts. Both started out in Walla Walla pretty young, and weren’t afraid to go against the grain. Hors Categorie is Christophe Baron’s latest project since forming Cayuse in 1996. It’s a high-density vineyard in the Blue Mountain foothills, on the North Fork of the Walla Walla River, on a slope that’s nothing but rock. 

I love Cayuse from the early 2000s. He transformed this from nothing, this mound of rocks, into these wonderfully expressive vineyards: Cailloux, En Chamberlin, Coccinelle. The wines are just so elegant, and age so well; people are still discovering how well Washington wines can age but Cayuse, Leonetti, Quilceda Creek, these reds with 20 years of age are delicious, very precise and very particular.

I’ve known Christophe for about 20 years, and the last time I saw him he told me that Canlis has the largest selection of his wines in the world. [82, by my count. – PJC] 

Kelsey Albro Itämeri is also in the foothills of the Blue Mountains, north of the river valley for Itä. She focuses on cool sites, slightly higher elevations, resulting in wines with low alcohols, high acids. She makes Syrah, Merlot, and two Sémillons from Les Collines Vineyard, and this Walla Walla Syrah—super precise, honest, dynamic. I know she has big plans with planting and embracing the cooler sides of the Walla Walla Valley. I wish that there were more people like her. And both of them walk the walk when it comes to sustainability.

2017 Els Jelipins Tinto Penedès ($190)

I staged at this winery in 2009, for my 40th birthday. I lived in their house in Catalonia, which is built over the winery. They live in a village called Fontrubí, in the middle of nowhere, above a town that basically doesn't exist, in the mountains. A couple had founded [the winery] and they split up, so now it's Glòria Garriga and her daughter Berta doing the work. Tiny production— less than 1,600 bottles of the red, I believe. The red wine they make is mostly Sumoll, which is indigenous to the Penedès but technically not part of the DO. The Sumoll vines are close to 100 years old now, only one hectare, about an hour away or so by truck from the winery (which is built beneath the house); it's facing Montserrat, the mountain range, so it’s breathtaking and very arid, very hot.

Everything is done by hand from the harvesting to the work in the vineyards, to the bottling to the old basket press with a crank; she hand-paints the labels, she even dips the wax to cover the cork. This wine is a deep, deep red, a little bit chewy because of the Sumoll, plus there’s a bit of Garnacha in there that softens it. Not gamey, not super wild—it's just beautiful. 

1907 D'Oliveiras Madeira Malvazia ($2800)

We got this great offer from the Rare Wine Company, a shopping list of old Madeira. So I went around to the owners [Mark and Brian Canlis] and they were like “choose a year,” so we chose some vintages that might have been significant to the family. Recently, we opened the 1907 with this group of diners that gather monthly or bimonthly. 

I don’t know if you knew this but we also have a very big whiskey connection here, mostly scotch. The Canlises have a third brother who's not involved hands-on with the restaurant who spent some time in Scotland as a pastor. What else are you gonna do if you're in the middle-of-nowhere Scotland after you've tended to your flock of humans? Well, you learn about whisky. So we've got some very fine whiskies downstairs that he's managed to bring over by some manner of means. 

So there’s a tradition here where we gather around the barrel. You can only be invited by one of the brothers, though we also get together as a staff in the barrel room on Christmas Eve. 

For the 1907 Malvazia Madeira, this group went down to the cellar. It was like a time capsule of earthy stewy fruits, cocoa, that rancio note of Madeira. All of us noticed how salty it seemed, almost like a salted caramel. But really, what’s going through your head is, “This is crazy! This wine is over 100 years old!” 

But it seemed like the bottle was asking more of us, and so before someone took a sip from their glass, each guest had to share something about themself, who they want to be, what they want to achieve, something about their dreams, about how they wanted to show up in the world. It was this really lovely moment of sharing and generosity, all over a bottle that was well over 100 years old. 

That’s what special bottles ask of us sometimes.