A petite blond woman laid her hands on the glass table in front of me, her many silver and turquoise rings making a declarative clack. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said. I was on my last pour of a four-wine tasting at a winery outside of Fredericksburg, and although she worked there, she wasn’t my server. Mine was a man who delivered a corny, rehearsed speech with each pour. Please, I thought. Interrupt. “Are you here by yourself?” she asked. I just laughed. “I like traveling alone,” I said, which was not a lie but not the whole truth, either. I was in the Hill Country on a quest to discover the best in Texas wine right now, from the underrated to the most innovative. I tipped…
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