Conversation swirls inside the roomy Lexus SUV as many topics are explored and words are batted back and forth from front to back and sideways. We have 30 minutes to waste—to waste! What a luxury! Michael noses the car down a no-name lane toward the edge of beyond to give Lisa and David and a glimpse of the amazingly large and amazingly beautiful Greek Monastery hidden at the end of this beaten and battered, bumpy and winding trail.
Lisa cries out, “It looks like Bulgaria.”
David leaps from the car and quickly snaps pictures. We make a promise to return when we have more time and we are dressed appropriately (long skirt, close-toed shoes, arms covered, head covered)—we want to sample the wine they sell—and explore.
We are on a mission, wanting to be the first to arrive at Bending Branch Winery when the doors open at 11 a.m. We blink and miss Kendalia. Approaching Sisterdale I tell everyone, “Keep your eyes open and look out both sides of the windows at once. Sisterdale is cute!” The tiny town beckons, but Michael continues driving Lisa’s car to our ultimate destination.
We sail through Comfort on Business 27, turning left into a wide valley on Herman Sons Road. Crossing the Guadalupe River, we are surrounded by soft green hills dotted with sprawling, and some not so sprawling, dwellings; the early morning mist becomes more aggressive. I hold my breath, hoping for moist, not wet bread, as we turn left on Lindner Branch Road finally reaching our destination.
Off the beaten trail, the tiny boutique Bending Branch Winery seems to be all ours. Inside the cozy tasting room, as we ponder which wine will go with smoked chicken, we are offered a taste of the wines on our short list. We purchase a bottle of their 2015 High Plains Rose made with Cinsaut grapes. And because everyone on this picnic adventure is a major red wine fan, we choose a Tannat with grapes sourced from Lodi. Tannat, normally found in the Basque-influenced regions of France, is a very tannic, earthy and robust wine; probably not the best pairing for chicken, but it is smoked, and we can drink it AFTER we eat.
Bending Branch has wonderful places to sit and sip and snack, but few serviceable tables for a full-blown three-course picnic. However, because we chose the day wisely—never a weekend—we have space to spread out and relax and indulge. Setting out our first course, I am pleased that the combination of shrimp and mango and celery, lightly dressed with a creamy sauce, pairs so wonderfully with the light and dry and perfect Cinsaut Rose. The smoked chicken and wild rice salad, combined with a curried sauce, golden raisins and scallions, is delicious; the Grand Marnier Cream used for dipping strawberries is the hit of the meal. I mean, who doesn’t love Grand Marnier?
Michael and David make fun of my heart shaped candied ginger cookies, Look, I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve, from one, and My heart beats for you, from the other. I try hard to ignore their antics. Lisa smiles. The soft hills, the pastoral scene, the good wine, the friends, and conversation tempt us to stay and never leave, but…
Time melts. The mist fades. The breeze holds. We pack up and head for winery number two, Singing Waters. David disappears immediately after we park, baby goats calling his name. Michael heads for a table by the creek. Lisa and I walk toward the tasting room, but because the charming outdoor area draws us back to nature, we eschew an indoor tasting and settle for a glass of their lovely Freedom wine, joining my better half.
Back on the road, we stop in Comfort for another whirlwind tour. Unfortunately, our wine adventures didn’t leave much time for exploring. The town is neat as a pin and cute as a button—it’s the best way to describe it. It also begs us to STAY. We lose David to a bookstore. Michael to a bench. We tour the old Faust Hotel and make plans to return, spending the night, giving Comfort its due.
Different back roads. More stops. Stolen naps—all but the driver. Close to home, Michael turns left into the parking lot of the dollhouse-sized church on RM 473. How many times have we passed this tiny edifice? How many times have we failed to stop? Too many.
Miraculously the door to the white painted, steeple topped church opens when pushed. Inside is a miracle of preservation and love. Built and dedicated in 1889, I count the number of benches, doing simple mental calculations—a congregation of forty.
We sit quietly. Imagining.
Click on the link below for the recipes
Menu and Recipes – Picnic at Bending Branch Winery
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