By the time we arrived at Delfino Farms, people were already settling in — chairs unfolded, picnic blankets stretched across the grass, clusters of friends passing cider bottles and peeling off layers in the early evening sun.
The air was warm but starting to soften. There were wildflowers everywhere, like someone had ordered a meadow just for the occasion, and the sun was angling low over the apple trees.
Folk on the Farm is Delfino Farms’ summer music series — a weekly Saturday night show that takes place just above the orchards, where the vineyards meet the pines. It’s casual but dialed in, intimate without being precious. The kind of event where you might sit next to someone’s grandma, someone’s toddler, and someone who just played Red Rocks — and it all makes perfect sense.
We came up from the Bay and made a weekend out of it, but a lot of the crowd felt local. People in overalls and sundresses, good boots, hats worn for shade rather than style. It felt like the best version of a community gathering — relaxed, generous, golden. By the time the first chords rang out, the whole hillside felt like a backyard we’d all been invited to share.
My Experience at Folk on the Farm
Delfino Farms is one of those places that makes you feel like you’re on the right side of summer. Rows of vineyards slope down into apple orchards, and beyond that, pine trees stretch up into the kind of sky that makes you think about maybe buying land. Before the music started, we wandered around — said hi to the goats, peeked inside the little cider barn, got a lay of the land. The family that owns the farm still lives there, and a few of them were checking people in, which somehow made the whole thing feel both professional and personal.
We’d brought a blanket, assuming we’d be lawn people, but ended up meeting another group in line who offered us extra seats at their table — stage-side, right up front. A total stroke of luck. But honestly, no matter where you end up, the view is good. The lawn is tiered and open, and once the sun starts to go down, everyone shifts from claiming space to just being in it. People dance. People share snacks. People go barefoot.
It’s the kind of place where everyone looks like they know how to pack a picnic. Dresses and denim, cowboy hats, a few toddlers darting between lawn chairs. Not over-curated, but definitely intentional. Like everyone had the same idea about what a night like this should feel like, and somehow it all synced up.
The Music
No opener, no preamble — just Kashus Culpepper, stepping into golden light and getting right to it. His set felt like a slow burn in the best way. Bluesy, honest, grounded. The kind of music that pulls people up out of their chairs without making a big deal about it.
Within minutes, we were dancing, along with most of the crowd. Some swayed from their spots, others moved closer to the stage. It wasn’t a performance so much as a gathering — and everyone was part of it.
Kashus mentioned the setting a couple of times during his set, and you could tell it wasn’t just crowd banter. The sound carried cleanly across the entire lawn, the orchard behind him catching the last of the light, and you could see the exact moment the sun dropped below the ridge — when the air shifted, the string lights flicked on, and the Big Dipper came into focus in the sky above us.
There was something about hearing that kind of voice in that kind of place — open air, nothing slick, no distractions. It just worked. And you got the feeling that years from now, people might be saying, “I saw him at this tiny farm in the foothills, before he really blew up.”
Food & Drink
They rotate food trucks each week, and the night we went, it was tacos — which sounded great until the line started wrapping all the way down the gravel path. If you’re coming hungry, maybe rethink that. Or come early. Or just know that you’ll spend a little time waiting, with plenty of good people-watching to keep you busy.
We opted for snacks instead — namely, fresh peach empanadas sold out of a tiny white trailer hitched to what looked like a vintage tractor. They were made with peaches grown on the farm, and they were exactly what you want mid-concert: still warm, sticky-sweet, a little flaky, easy to eat on the move.
To drink, we started with Delfino’s own hard cider, crisp and cold and just dry enough, before splitting a bottle of Picpoul for $32 — a total steal by Napa-adjacent standards. No outside food or drink is allowed, but the farm has everything you need once you’re inside. Bottle openers, glasses, cold cider on tap — all the good stuff, without the fuss.
What to Know Before You Go
When Is It?
Every Saturday evening throughout the summer at Delfino Farms in Camino, California — generally through late August or early September, depending on when apple season picks up. Doors open at 6 p.m., and the music starts right around 8:30, just as the sun dips below the hills.
How Much Are Tickets?
General admission is around $35 for lawn seating. You can also book a table, which bundles multiple tickets and ends up being a bit cheaper per person — plus it guarantees you a seat. All seating is technically first come, first served, even in the paid section.
Can You Bring Your Own Food?
No outside food or alcohol is allowed — but you won’t miss it. The farm rotates food trucks each week and sells their own cider and wine on-site. We saw a few people with full-on picnic setups they’d built entirely from venue vendors.
Is it Family Friendly?
The event is 21+ — strictly. No kids, no babies, no exceptions. It keeps the vibe relaxed and adult, but definitely something to note if you’re used to bringing the whole crew.
What Should I Wear?
Something breezy and comfortable for early evening heat, with a layer for when it cools down after sunset. Think dresses, boots, denim, linen, bandanas, maybe a hat if you’re sitting in direct sun before golden hour.
Is There Parking?
Yes — plenty of free, easy parking on-site.
Are There Bathrooms?
Yes, and they’re real bathrooms — not porta-potties.
Does It Sell Out?
Sometimes. It’s a relatively small venue, and artists with buzz can fill it up. Tables go especially fast, so if you’re thinking about it, don’t wait too long.
Final Thoughts
We left with dust on our boots and empanada filling on our hands, already talking about when we could come back. There’s something about this event that sticks with you — not just the setting or the music or the cider (though, yes, all of that too), but the way it manages to feel easy and electric at the same time.
Folk on the Farm is the kind of thing I’d recommend to almost anyone — date nights, friend groups, solo night with a blanket and a book until the music starts. The artists they book are genuinely talented, the kind of voices that stop you mid-conversation, and the whole experience feels thoughtful without ever tipping into over-produced.
If you’re within easy driving distance, go. If you’re not, make a weekend out of it. Bring a layer, wear shoes you can dance in, and leave room for the empanadas.
And, if you’re thinking about heading back up here in the fall (or just want to know what else is nearby), I’ve also got a guide to Apple Hill in autumn — including farm stands, hard cider spots, and a few quiet corners that stay off the tour bus route. Or if you’re into wine, don’t miss Narrow Gate Vineyard — one of my favorite stops in the area.
