This wine does not open politely. It bursts out like a war cry wrapped in silk. Black fruit, cracked pepper, wild herbs and that deep, ancient Carignan earth rise together in a rush that feels less like aroma and more like someone grabbing you by the collar because they are very happy you arrived.
The first sip hits with the force of a celebratory tackle. Dark cherry and blackberry collide with tannins that grip your mouth like a pair of strong hands trying to orchestrate a kiss and a conquest at the same time. There is nothing subtle here. The wine charges, roars, laughs, and then suddenly melts into a strange tenderness that feels almost shocking after the heat.
It tastes like an invitation to a long table lit by firelight. Music too loud. Food too rich. Strangers too confident. A night where generosity and chaos share a bed, inviting you to join them, and you are not just allowed but encouraged to lose track of your intentions.
The finish goes on and on, smouldering with smoke and spice, the kind of warmth that follows you home and whispers that you should have stayed longer. This wine is not flirting. It is choosing you.
Serve it with roasted lamb, charred vegetables, or anything dripping with fat and glory. Do not try to tame it. Let it claim the room.
