You pretend it’s about the fruit. About the balance. But you know better. The second it hits your tongue—lemon oil, fennel pollen, and a flick of sea salt—you’re already on your knees.
You swirl the glass like it’s casual, like you’re not imagining that saline grip as a silk strap winding around your ankle. It’s dirty, yes, but refined. The kind of wine that steps on you and makes you thank it for the honour.
It’s not flashy. That’s not the point. It’s slow, restrained, almost cruel in how long it lingers. You savour the citrus-pith bitterness at the finish, wishing it would just push harder. But it knows exactly how much you can take.
Serve it barefoot under the table with grilled prawns, preserved lemon, and a chunk of salty sheep’s cheese warming in your palm. You’ll get dirty. That’s the point.
Region: Corbières, Languedoc, France Grapes: Terret, Grenache Blanc, Aramon Blanc
