The Cult of Cabernet.

It’s a situation I never thought I’d find myself in: I’m the lone visitor at Harlan Estate, one of Napa’s most elite wineries. Perched on a divan in the “tasting room” — it feels like the fanciest living room I’ve ever set foot in — I watch as estate director Don Weaver, gregarious and hospitable, opens three bottles of wine and pours them into glasses on the coffee table before me. He reclines on the sofa opposite mine, awaiting my reactions. There is no one else on the entire property; it feels as if my voice might echo.

If each glass contains a 6-ounce pour, I am sitting in front of $500 worth of liquid.

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