You don’t touch it. You just watch what it does to them. One sip and they fall quiet—eyes half-lidded, hands pausing mid-gesture. The room shifts. The air thickens. And still, the wine keeps going: golden, cloudy, smelling of bruised citrus, pine resin, and something just on the edge of sweat.
You trace the glass with your finger but don’t lift it. Not yet. It’s more delicious to observe the others—how their faces soften, how the grip of tannin makes them exhale harder, slower.
You want to know what it feels like. But for now, you just watch.
Try it with whipped feta and olive oil, grilled courgette, or oily anchovies spooned straight from the tin. No one has to know what it did to you.
Region: Corbières, Languedoc, France Grapes: Macabeu, Grenache Gris, Terret
