Wine caves. If I hear about one, I want to explore it. Is it a caveman thing? Once down below, I imagine myself secure from roving saber-toothed tigers, sipping a jammy Paso Zin, careful not to spill on my Woolly Mammoth accent rug. Whatever the cause, my fascination with wine caves is undeniable and enduring. I will always remember my first (Kunde in Sonoma Valley). I fondly recall my most recent (Oak Mountain in Temecula Valley). And I eagerly anticipate my next (where? when? dunno). In Paso Robles Wine Country, I have gone subterranean at three wineries: Eberle, Robert Hall, and ...
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