Your shirt’s somewhere on the floor. The bottle’s on its side, still breathing softly. And you? You’re curled up beside someone who just handed you a glass of something glowing like crushed cherries at sunset.
Olla Rouge is tender but no pushover. Grenache Noir, Gris, and Macabeu tangled together in whole clusters, barely touched, barely stirred—just coaxed into harmony. The kind of wine that feels like fingers tracing your collarbone while you’re still catching your breath.
It’s juicy. Raspberry, cranberry, a whisper of thyme, maybe some sun-warmed rock dust—but who's taking notes now? It’s light, but not forgettable. Like a lover who doesn’t ask for attention but holds it anyway.
You snack on grilled sausage cold from the fridge, nibble Manchego from the wrapper, and dip your fingers into leftover romesco without a second thought. The wine doesn’t judge. It stays right there beside you, warm, open, humming with the last sighs of summer.
Region: Roussillon, France Grapes: Grenache Noir, Grenache Gris, Macabeu
