I don’t care who you are. I don’t need your name, your background, or your palate preferences. I just need your mouth.
I’m cold and precise—Cabernet Franc’s red-earth grip, Gamay’s bright cherry flesh. I slip past your lips with clean acidity, bow at your tongue for a moment, and vanish. No warmth. No attachment. Just taste and move on.
You pour me into your glass. I pass through you. That’s all you’re for. You’re not the drinker; you’re the conduit. The instrument. And I? I’m the voice you carry.
The moment the bottle’s empty, I disappear. But you'll remember the hunger I left behind.
Pair me with oysters shucked at the bar, bitter chicory dressed in vinaigrette, or a bowl of chilled ratatouille. Use me for what I am—and nothing more. I won’t thank you. I won’t care that I don’t exist for you. But you’ll still feel me.
Region: Loire Valley, France Grapes: Cabernet Franc, Gamay
