Paso Robles: It's the undiscovered wine country

— -- When the van pulls up at Adelaida Cellars, staffer Tony Barretta is ready and waiting with seven gleaming glasses lined up in soldier-like precision on the bar.

Never mind that it isn't even noon yet. This is wine country. And someone else is driving.

He pours a Viognier.

"No butter, no oak," he declares. "Just grape and limestone."

And so begins a day in California's fastest-growing and, to many, most surprising wine region. Located in rolling oak-studded hills about 30 miles inland and roughly midway between San Francisco and Los Angeles, Paso Robles is also among the state's vastest wine regions.

With 26,000 vineyard acres, there isn't just a wine trail here. There are wine trails— five in all — that meander through blessedly unfettered landscapes and lead to uncrowded tasting rooms.

A hidden gem

That "Paso," as the locals call the area, retains an undiscovered feel is remarkable, considering the stratospheric growth in wineries in recent years. In 1995, there were about 35 here. Today, there are well over 200, most of which also operate tasting rooms. They range from small, family-run operations, to the area's largest, J. Lohr, producer of a million-plus cases annually.

"This is a laid-back area," says Coy Barnes, operator of The Wine Wrangler, which offers customized winery tours. "It's not pretentious. It's fun and welcoming."

Upon picking up the day's customers, Barnes delivers a short course on local viticulture. Red wine production outpaces white by three to one. Forty varieties of wine grapes grow here, but because of the hot summers, thick-skinned grapes, such as Zinfandel, and Rhône varietals, such as Syrah, flourish.

Heading west on Highway 46 into the Santa Lucia Mountains, Barnes points out some of the region's oldest vineyards, here for a century. The first grapes were planted by Spanish missionaries in the late 1700s for making sacramental wine. The first commercial winery began operation a century or so later. Prohibition brought most of the industry to a halt, until it began to rebound in the 1970s.

'This isn't Napa'

Many of the newcomer winemakers are urban refugees seeking a less-harried life.

"The people who come to Paso come for the right reasons," says Joel Peterson of Hope Family Wines. "They fall in love with the place. They build really good, working wineries. It's not about building a mansion and flying in and out on a private plane. This isn't Napa."

Paula Brooks, who with her husband, Jerry, is working her way up the coast, has noticed that, too. "Napa's more la-di-dah. Like they expect you to know what's what in wines," says the St. Louis-area resident. "It's more casual here."

Larry and Lori Lemieux of Monroe, Conn., touring the coast by motorcycle, are even more surprised at this "find." They made a detour to Paso after seeing a promotional video during an overnight stay in nearby San Luis Obispo.

"I didn't even know this was here," says Lori Lemieux. "When I think of California wine country, I think of Napa."

Tourism promoters tout the affordability of the area. Wineries charge $5 to $10 to taste six wines, and most apply the fee to a wine purchase. They also note the friendly, informal nature of the wineries, where the tasting-room pourer may well be the winemaker and/or owner.