Doc Hollandaise (I’ll be your H.
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⭐️☆☆☆☆ | A Vineyard With Altitude, Attitude, and Very Little Else
Merkin Vineyards Osteria starts strong—very strong. From the parking lot, it’s a postcard: perched high on the hill, vineyard views, modern winery aesthetic. You arrive thinking, “This is going to be good.”
That optimism lasts precisely until you walk through the door.
Inside, we were greeted by two hostesses deeply committed to reorganizing wine bottles behind the counter—so committed, in fact, that acknowledging human beings seemed like an inconvenient interruption.
When eye contact finally occurred, it came with the unmistakable expression of “Why are you here and how soon can you leave?” Truly elite levels of unwelcoming.
Despite the restaurant being roughly 90% empty, we were informed at 3:30 PM today on Monday that outdoor seating was unavailable—while fewer than three tables were actually occupied outside. The interior ambiance? Think hipster cafeteria. Less “Tuscan osteria,” more “art school lunchroom with wine.”
Let’s talk logistics. Three restrooms for a 150-person outdoor capacity (plus interior seating) is not bold design—it’s poor planning. Nothing says “premium winery experience” like waiting in line for the bathroom.
The wine? Mostly forgettable. The Chupacabra Blanca was the standout, which says less about its excellence and more about the competition. The rest landed squarely in the moderately mediocre category—serviceable, uninspired, and oddly forgettable for a winery that clearly wants to be memorable.
Food didn’t help. Across four courses, the charcuterie board was the lone bright spot—solid, enjoyable, and thankfully hard to mess up. The lamb meatballs, however, felt like they were prepared by someone who had heard of lamb once but never met it personally.
The logo deserves its own moment. It wants to be edgy and artistic—Michelangelo-inspired anatomy, grapes as pubes, an eye where anatomy absolutely does not need one. Instead of clever or modern, it lands squarely in trying too hard. Shock value without substance—much like the experience itself.
Yes, this place is associated with the singer from Tool, and frankly, thank goodness. Because without the built-in fan pilgrimage, it’s hard to imagine repeat visits driven by the food or wine alone. The brand carries the experience far more than the experience carries itself.
Credit where it’s due: the waitress was genuinely welcoming—friendly, polite, and the only real warmth in the building. Unfortunately, she offered no context, no specials, no storytelling—just basic service in a place that desperately needs something memorable.
Overall performance: Meeeeehhhhhh.
A beautiful setting weighed down by cafeteria vibes, indifferent hospitality, and wine with the personality of uninspiring grapes.
Come for the view. Stay for the charcuterie. Lower your expectations for everything else.
