This is my favorite sit-in-the-garden-and-pretend-I-am-in-southern-France place. From the moment you step through the door of this wisteria-covered, Provencal hidden gem, the smell of fresh-baked bread, displayed before you, envelops your whole being. If it is a nice day, which likely it is, walk through the room of crooked wooden tables, the display of old corkscrews, cowboy hats hooked on wine racks to the outdoor garden, now neighbor to their sister winery and garden, Georis. The lunch tables, helpless but to wobble on the pebble covered ground, throw me back to the Luxembourg gardens in Paris, where I remember my father taking a tumble right off his precariously perched chair. Sit and linger over a sunny rose (I kept the bottle it’s so pretty), “L’Abeille”, or a number of other, interesting local wines. Fabulous charcuterie and cheese plate, pate including pickled treats, a broiled, gorgonzola-filled pear that had us all “oohing”.