It’s the way they look at you—hungry, assured, daring you to make the first move. But you don’t. You wait. Let them come to you. The air is charged, an unspoken challenge, the kind that sends a slow heat curling through your chest.
The first sip lands with the same intensity. Mourvèdre and Syrah, unrestrained, pulsing with dark fruit and violets, a teasing flicker of menthol and garrigue laced between every swirl. The structure is there—tannins that grip without holding too tight, a body that moves between silk and shadow. Each taste is a push and pull, the tension stretching, tightening, refusing to let go too soon.
The finish? A slow retreat, a lingering warmth against your lips, a reminder that this isn’t over yet.
Aged cheeses, their richness melting in contrast. Cured meats, salty and seductive. And if the night stretches longer, a bite of dark chocolate—because some pleasures demand something just a little more indulgent.
