TIMELESS TASTE
Once a young resident of Templeton, I never imagined its vineyards would lure me back
BY H. LEE BARNES

Probably less that one in 500 people have ever heard of Templeton. For those who don�t know of it, the town is south of Paso Robles and north of Atascadero in the Santa Rita foothills of Central California. Like millions of others, I might never have heard of it had it not been for the fact that I once lived there. The instant I saw the tab �Rated 92 by Wine Enthusiast� above the bottles and read the label, I was skeptical. Templeton, California? I pictured the vineyards adjacent to the trailer park where we lived, acres of neglected yellow-leafed vines that struggled to produce just a few green clusters in the spring that turned a dull purple-gray by midsummer, then to dry pulp by late fall.

My stepfather was an Army officer stationed at Ft. Roberts to train troops. Mother worked as a waitress in Paso Robles, and that summer (I was eight at the time) I was left pretty much on my own. Of course, I was cautioned not to go into the vineyards or near the railroad track or the creek that flowed in the woods to south. The creek, mother said, had quicksand around it and electric eels in it. Absolutely, under no circumstances was I to climb the water towers north of vineyard or to eat any of those grapes. They would make me sick to my stomach.

Most every day, as soon as Mother left for work, I climbed the towers, then picked some skimpy grapes and headed to the creek to catch myself an electric eel. Unlike most mothers, mine was seldom right about anything, but she was about those grapes. They were bitter, and no matter how many or how few I ate, I came down with a stomach ache. Eventually I made the connection, and settled for a jelly sandwich to take along. 

I never did catch or even see an electric eel, but once I came upon an awol soldier who�d jumped off a train. He�d sprained or broken his ankle. He was hungry and thirsty and asked that I get him some food and water. I made him a jelly sandwich, grabbed a jar of pickles out of the fridge, poured water in a thermos I�d found in a cupboard, put everything in a paper bag and headed back. Along the way, I picked him a bunch of grapes.

That soldier swore me to secrecy. I never told a soul the story until now. He�d been to L.A. to see his girlfriend. Maybe she�d sent him a Dear John. Who knows about these things? I have no idea what happened with him. But, as sure as I know that soldier got a stomach ache from the grapes, I know that some vintner turned those ragged vineyards into some that are now producing a pretty fine vine.

The wine is a 2005 Taz Pinot Noir priced at around $32. It has a fine ruby color and is fairly robust for a two-year-old wine. Its vanilla and pepper tones are little more than hints, and the only fruit I detected is a bit of berry. 

All in all, the wine exceeded my expectations and was well suited to the marinated tri tip I cooked. It could also complement a big roasted bird or just the smell of a fresh-mown lawn. It�s good enough that I bought another bottle that I plan to uncork on an appropriate occasion. If you�re like me, you�re probably inventive at creating occasions. Hell, I�m even tempted to take a trip to Templeton to buy a third. I�m going online right now to check out the restaurants.