A Picnic in Paso Robles

I’m thinking of packing a picnic and heading to a winery, but I look out at the beautiful day and tell Michael that we should have our picnic here, on the balcony.

I am dressed for cool shade and the bright winter sun scalds my skin through the black turtleneck.  Mike’s navy blue sweater is no cooler.  We divide and conquer, gathering our food, wine and accoutrements and head to the welcome shade of the bell tower.  Once the olives, peppered salami and roasted red peppers are consumed, once the Manchego cheese and membrillo are no more, and when the half bottle of wine is empty, it is difficult to move. The weather is so magnificent and the views so lovely and peaceful it is hard to push ourselves from our comfortable perch below the bell, through the apartment, down the stairs and along the bocce ball court to the car.  But the sea awaits…so we must; it’s the plan.

Moonstone Beach

As depressingly barren and flat as 46W is toward Sacramento, 46E toward the sea is breathtakingly beautiful. It is green and lush with rolling hills and steep valleys and grazing cows. Tendrils of ocean fog seep through the valley, increasing in density as we approach Cambria.

We brush past tiny yellow flowers that blanket the cliff as we take one of the many paths down to the beach, walking on dark gray sand alongside the receding tide.  Soon the silken sand turns into tiny pebbles—moonstones— and the way grows more difficult as I sink deeper into Moonstone Beach. Michael far ahead, leaves his footprints behind and I walk gingerly, tracing his steps making the trek a tiny bit easier.  I finally find a niche among the torn rocks and sit and listen to sea birds and crashing waves and the laughter of small children till once again it is time to push ourselves away and return to the car and proceed to the next adventure.

Morrow Bay

Morrow Bay feels beachy.  Funky beachy. Not in the least pristine.  It is the rock that attracts us, and when we find that a well-worn road leads to its base we follow its curve and travel around its circumference till the road is no more and we are forced to return and look for the tiny town of Templeton and dinner, making an unexpected detour to Wild Horse Winery on the way.  I am disappointed that I like the wines available at retail better than those in the tasting room.

McPhees Grill in Templeton

McPhees, billed as gourmet dining in blue jeans, doesn’t disappoint.  The Rolled Duck & Cheese Quesadilla with double salsas—chipotle and avocado—with a pickled onion garnish is devoured in minutes.  Michael’s slow roasted then oak grilled Ancho Chile Apricot Jam Glazed Thick Cut Pork Chop is at least four-inches thick.  Too big?  His sweet potatoes fries are perfectly crisp and deliciously salty.  My Macadamia Crusted Salmon with a ginger-sesame vinaigrette is exceedingly fresh and melts in my mouth. The Asian slaw and spicy cucumbers are a perfect accompaniment.  Wisely we say NO to dessert.

Home by 6:30, after dark, we feel like  it is past ten.