Paso Robles Pilgrimage.
January 2006
With half of our numbers culled due to the intractable plague that's currently incapacitating much of our fair, bevined country, the still-healthy portion of this intrepid band of devout turned four wheels southward, this time, for a drive down the 101 toward the City of Angels. Since no grapes grow in the smoggy doom below – ironically – The Grapevine, we settled on the dustier earth of the Paso Robles environs to slake our unyielding thirst. Just south of Monterey and north of San Luis Obispo sits Paso Robles, where a nexus of fine vineyards rests on the rolling land, parted by lines of old oaks bursting with mistletoe clusters galore.
The drive from San Francisco is about four hours, so while a day trip is possible from the Greater Bay Area, it certainly must be a lightning one. Being fond of electrical current, we settled upon the proud banner of Turley as our beacon and hoped to find other gems beneath the fertile fields there. We were not wholly disappointed.
As promised after our return from Napa last fall,
Turley was the glimmering lure with which we cast our alcohol-soaked nets to start the new year right. The facility sits in the southern Paso Robles area, off the beaten path but still highly renowned enough to have a two-year waiting list even for membership
offers. Rather than allowing tours of the vineyards and processing areas as does
Ladera and Girard, the Turley tasting was holed up in a single room that doubled as a register and a bar, finely furnished with rustic knick-knacks and crunchy snacks.
( That's no spot, that's only a reflection...Collapse )
X-posted to our wine travelogue, 
grapes_traipse Current Mood: 
satisfied 