I've tried three times to tell you about this place. The last time I couldnt even spell Sonoma. Miramar Estates has so defied my senses that I've thought of calling it God's Country Place.
A fig stuffed with chocolate chased by a red boasting a better pedigree than my own? A fig stuffed with chocolate?Loose the dogs! bacchanalia is on the land! This stuff is so good I'm looking around for the cops.
An elegant stone terrace just reeking of old Spain looking over a zillion miles of sun splashed vinyard, the rows seeming to undulate like a mid Pacific swell?
I'm a flat land foreigner from the Great Lakes. on a clear day with the sun out and my glasses on I might know a red from a white.
I do know, though, when dedicated young people,pledged to the vintner's trade and that of the blue sash like the kids who looked after us have set their talents to create an experience equal to the judgment of the folks I was with; folks who know about this stuff. These kids are able, they've had wonderful teachers.You may agree that they merit your custom. I loved this place.
You might, too.
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