We are heading into wine country, zipping by oak-studded golden hills where the occasional small herd of cattle ranges and the few rickety old barns could tumble at any time — unless a wannabe vintner rescues them and transforms them into tasting rooms.

I say zipping because there is no traffic. We’re not on Highway 29 in that Wine Country or Highways 101 or 12 in the other Wine Country.

This is the Livermore Valley, and it’s yet to be discovered by the wine-drinking masses. Like Lodi, the Santa Clara Valley and so many other regions, this unheralded area is rich in grape-growing history (dating back to the early 1880s), and its wines are gaining acclaim. In the mid-’90s there were only 15 wineries in the Livermore Valley American Viticultural Area; now there are just over 50.

Entrepreneurs and restaurateurs have embraced the movement. Downtown Livermore, with its Western-style storefronts — now given over to wine bars, ale houses, bistros and restaurants with corkage-free nights — has become a second home for oenophiles and food lovers.

Where to start a day of Livermore sipping and sampling? Well, many tasting rooms don’t open until noon. The day’s smoking has commenced over at the popular spot called Sauced, but the barbecue’s not ready. And I, for one, need more caffeine before I’ll be able to throw balls straight on the bocce court. Our reservation’s not until 11 a.m.

So it’s off to the Panama Red Coffee Co. or Casse-Croute Bakery for cups to go and then the Sunday farmers market at Railroad Avenue.

At first glance, this market is so tiny it hardly warrants a stop — until you see the row of artisans espousing the “made in Livermore” philosophy. There’s John Johnsen, who bottles his hot sauce recipes under the Texas-inspired Terlingua name but pays tribute to the city’s largest employer, the one with the H-bomb notoriety. Lab officials purchase his “Livermore Site 300 Nuclear Sauce” by the case for employees and visitors, so you have to arrive early to snag a bottle. The same goes for the sell-out-fast tamales and taquitos made by a young cook named Aurora “Flaca” Nava of Flaca’s Chips & Salsa. Family recipes, I ask? “I tweaked my mom’s recipes, so now they’re mine,” she says proudly.

Across the way, the Cheese Therapy food truck beckons. Two Livermore residents — chef Denise Creek Garcia and cheesemonger Teri Tith Concannon — specialize in the ploughman’s lunch (that’s the English name for a salumi or charcuterie plate), grilled cheeses (think manchego with spicy slaw and cilantro), homemade soup and a three-cheese Caesar salad (today it’s Parmesan, Comte and Seascape, a nice change of pace from the usual one-note Caesar).

A much larger farmers market, with dinner vendors and live music, springs up on Thursday evenings from spring to fall on the grounds of the town’s stately circa 1911 Carnegie Library, not too far away.

Speaking of not too far away, that applies to just about everything in downtown Livermore. It’s compact and walkable, a perfect way to burn off calories on a food- and drink-filled day.

A break for bocce

But first, we’re off to burn calories very slowly, with a leisurely — but competitive, I hope — match of bocce. Yes, the Livermore wine industry may have German and French vintners at its roots, but the Italian game of bocce is de rigueur here, as it apparently is in every California appellation. You can play bocce as a side activity at a winery, or you can, like us, play where the bocce is paramount and wine takes a back seat (though, truth be told, my glass of local sauvignon blanc is sitting a few feet away).

Here, on a warm day at Campo di Bocce, on the western side of Livermore, the air feels positively Mediterranean on the outdoor courts, ringed by blooming trellises. The wait staff thoughtfully gives refresher tips on how to play (it’s all about rolling your balls closest to the little ball, called the pallino, and no, it’s never been as easy as it sounds), keeps you supplied with pitchers of ice water, and takes care of your food and wine orders. The wait staff does not, however, retrieve your far-flung balls from the end of the approximately 90-foot-long court. That’s called the “walk of shame,” and it’s part of the fun — as long as you keep sipping wine.

If you plan to play early enough in the day or late enough in the evening, you’ll avoid the distractions of birthday parties, bridal showers and corporate team-building on nearby courts and get a chance to concentrate on strategy. Actually, on a standard court like this, as opposed to a park or festival grounds, there’s more to it than strategy: I thought I put enough spin on that one! Why is it rolling over there? No, stop, stop! Are we sure this court doesn’t slope?

After an hour’s worth of play, which went by much too quickly, I can attest that good hand-eye coordination counts for more than Italian blood when playing bocce. The score was 8″‘4.

We retreat to an umbrella-shaded table for lunch after discovering that a number of people come to Campo di Bocce not to play bocce but to eat. A good sign. Seeing as how we barely broke a sweat on the court, we bypass the pasta dishes and opt to share a nicely grilled fresh salmon sandwich with avocado, a Tuscan tuna salad sandwich with capers, and side salads, including one of bibb lettuce, burrata cheese and shaved fennel.

Down winery row

Next it’s off to the wineries, with our designated driver at the wheel.

Although wineries are sprinkled throughout Livermore, the bulk of them line South Livermore Avenue, Tesla Road and nearby streets. Closest to downtown is Retzlaff, the only all-organic winery in the valley. Nearby is the historic Concannon, which dates to 1883, followed — west to east — by a string of boutique and family wineries, including the winery of sixth-generation vintner Steven Kent of the Mirassou family. At the far eastern edge of the strip are Eagle Ridge, Les Chenes and Cedar Mountain.

First we stop at a nearby Mines Road winery, Murrieta’s Well, named for the site where Joaquin Murrieta discovered an artesian well in the 1850s. The rustic tasting room is fashioned from an 1880s hillside “gravity flow” winery where French immigrant Louis Mel made wine from imported Chateau d’Yquem and Chateau Margaux plantings.

The lore and views here are unexpected delights. Our interest in Murrieta actually had been piqued by the winery’s recent best in show award for The Whip, a 2013 white blended not from two, three or four wine grapes, but seven: semillon, chardonnay, sauvignon blanc, viognier, orange muscat, gewurztraminer and white riesling. It’s aromatic, to be sure, and surprisingly well-balanced. Or, in the words of our wine critic, Mary Orlin, one of the judges at the blind tasting, “Soft and round on the palate, juicy and refreshing. Lingering finish with a hint of honey.”

Known for its cabernet franc, Murrieta’s Well, like many other Livermore wineries, also makes small-lot wines from such Spanish and Portuguese varietals as touriga and tempranillo. Our purchases: touriga, The Whip and muscat canelli. And if the port hadn’t been a club-only purchase, I would have bought a bottle of that, too.

Courtyard music

You can only do so much wine tasting, so when your palate is bruised and another water cracker won’t help, head downtown for some live music and small bites at yet another historic site.

Blacksmith Square, which was home to a blacksmith way back in the day, is now a charming brick courtyard lined with tiny shops and tasting rooms, and the credit goes to John Madden’s developer son for that. There’s entertainment — maybe light rock, maybe country, with no cover charge — on Friday evenings, Saturday afternoons and evenings, and Sunday afternoons from May through October. Try to arrive early to grab seats because it’s standing room only when the weather’s nice.

Swirl on the Square is the wine bar and restaurant at Blacksmith. Small plates range from crostini to sausage sliders, and you can expect some creative bites from chef Serena Martinez, who did her externship at Gary Danko in San Francisco. But it’s tough to pass up a dessert called Billie’s Homemade Secret Cake, which is baked by owner Rocco Maitino’s mother, and no, she won’t even give him the recipe. This buttery yellow cake topped with walnuts and dusted with powdered sugar is so rich that even Maitino says it’s too sweet to pair with dessert wine; you’ll want coffee with this one.

Back on the road

Toward the end of the afternoon, we’re off to Eagle Ridge Vineyard, recommended by a new acquaintance for its nice wines, free tasting and a quirky atmosphere. To get to this cattle ranch-turned-winery, we drive down a bumpy, half-mile-long road with a humongous dip (the website calls it a “Disneyland ‘E ticket’ ride”).

The plain exterior of the old agricultural building belies what’s inside: a fun jumble of vintage signs and turn-of-the-century collectibles amassed by owners Jim and Cheryl Perry. Jim, who pours tastes for us of his signature petite sirahs and estate-grown zinfandels, is clearly a local booster. A bumper sticker behind him boasts: “Livermore makes wine. Napa makes auto parts.”

Pouring next to him is fellow winemaker Dan Rosenberg of Dante Robere Vineyards, known for its 2012 reserve syrah and Rhone blend (Dante’s Inferno). Soon, the two will be pouring miles apart, as Dante Robere moves to its new winery in west Livermore, where the tasting room patio will offer views of the estate syrah vineyard and Sycamore Grove Park.

Our purchases: From Eagle Ridge, MadCait dessert wine, made from pinot grigio, and from Dante Robere, that Dante’s Inferno. Alas, we were among the last to enjoy the free tastings, as both wineries will start levying fees of $5 and $10, respectively. Still, compared with Napa tasting fees, Livermore remains a bargain.

Classic ending

For the best high-end dinner in Livermore, we make reservations to end the day at The Restaurant at Wente Vineyards. In business for 30 years, this restaurant has evolved under recent chefs to embrace both a farm-to-table and a ranch-to-table philosophy. That means Wente not only grows produce and herbs on a half-acre organic garden here, but the restaurant also raises its own herd of grass-fed Black Angus cattle on local hillsides.

The winery isn’t just the oldest in these parts; it’s the oldest continuously operated family-owned winery in the United States — it has been up and running since 1883.

Dinner starts with warm housemade rolls, flecked with herbs from the garden and olive oil pressed just down the road at Olivina. It’s a perfect pairing. We ordered the signature starter — Lamb Pastrami, cured in-house and served on rye crisps with pickled red onion and coriander — along with what we later term the most addictive dish we’ve had in a while, Black Truffle Ricotta Dip, made with chevre, sheep’s milk ricotta, honey, sunflower seeds and thyme.

For entrees, we shared the wood-grilled Filet Mignon, served with marble potatoes; a goat cheese gnocchi with pancetta and fava beans; and another signature offering, the Grilled Leg of Lamb, with merlot and rosemary. That was the standout dish, with beautiful slices of medium-rare lamb fanned out over morel mushrooms, favas and roasted spring onions.

Outside the dining room is some of the very scenery we drove past this morning. We’ve somehow managed to time our meal perfectly. The setting sun is casting shadows on the hills, darkening them from gold to mustard to brown, and two birds of prey fly past, as if on cue. But we neglected to reserve the very best seats — a window or patio table — for the evening show.

Next time.

Follow Linda Zavoral at Twitter.com/buh_byetravel.

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