I sit here, in the backseat of a friend’s pick-up truck, eyeing the way he has packed our picnic. Neat. Tidy. Secure. Convenient. Just me and the food, the two Michael’s in front, winding our way to Wimberley Valley Winery. If I counted all my fingers and all my toes, I still wouldn’t have enough digits to count the number of times we have picnicked under the oaks at this wonderful winery.

Coming here is like traveling back to the days of my childhood on my grandmother’s farm. There are fields and gardens and livestock and outbuildings of weathered wood that are held together with love and care. Wide swaths of sunlit grass, punctuated with groupings of comfortable Adirondack chairs, invite lingering. There are decks and tables and chairs and couches and bubbling fountains. The winery grounds are peace and tranquility and pastoral perfection.

The main building is a large rustic edifice, reminiscent of a Tuscan villa, built of mellow gold and ivory stone; only the tin roof intimates its Hill Country origins. The interior of the tasting room, warm and cozy, speaks of elegance and comfort; creative, artistic ceramic sculptures fill the walls. A huge circular leather couch fronts the large fireplace—looking at it, you want a blue norther to blow in quickly–a fire to be lit. A glass of wine in your hand. Friends at your elbow.

Speaking of which, our new friends—met on Instagram tickettomagic and www.tickettotmajic.com —arrive just after I alight from the truck.  We send the three guys down the gentle slope toward the old weathered picnic table bearing all the accouterments for our impending feast, while Kathleen and I head to the tasting room to do the important work.

Our first course, a savory tomato tart invites the pairing of a rich Zinfandel. It doesn’t sound right but, it is; a discovery I made several years ago when I hosted a Zinfandel and wine pairing event. I mention Brady wines, and our server says they have ONE bottle of Brady Zinfandel left if I want it.  I want it! I add two bottles of a dry French Rose to my stash and one more bottle of a red wine blend.

We carry five wine glasses and two bottles of wine down to the picnic table, sending the two Michaels and Denny back for the remainder that has been iced down in buckets. We don’t plan on drinking every bottle, but we want to be prepared.

The food is unpacked. The table is set; groaning under the weight of everything and everyone. Kathleen and I have both shared in the cooking and neither one of us believes in restraint. I cut the foot-wide tomato tart into five large slices, leaving a bit less than half on the serving plate, and place a slice on each of five plates. I’m going to give myself credit—the crust is a flaky masterpiece. The tomatoes, roasted in an oven for over an hour, taste of the sun and impending summer. The Gruyere cheese, sautéed onions, and Niçoise olives add a decadent touch. We each finish the portions given and hold our plates out for more. (Note: click on the link at the bottom of this article for the complete menu and the recipes.)

Kathleen’s kabob contribution—perfectly cooked vegetables threaded between moist, tender, grilled chunks of chicken thighs—is delicious. A wild rice pilaf and tossed green salad, consisting of baby greens, sweetened slices of strawberries, salty feta and smoked almonds, is a wonderful foil for the kabobs. The dry French rose goes down too easy.  We open the second bottle.

Dessert is an ethereally decadent orange chiffon cake, served in a pool of orange sauce kissed with Cointreau. Nothing too heavy—everything seemingly light. After three hours of indulgence we are not stuffed, but happily brimming with delicious flavors, new knowledge, and contentment of place and interesting conversation.

We move to a set of Adirondack chairs lining the edge of the low deck and stretch time.

Click on the link below for recipes.

Picnic at Wimberley Valley Winery – Menu and Recipes