Carmine.  Its heart is open and full, a primordial rapture of sautéed quetsch, truffle and pan-drippings, strained through pink limestone.   Inscrutable in its formative years, satiny now with a billowing sweetness.   Time in the glass brings out its atmospheric side, aérienne in its evocations of citrus-peel and cranberry.  It finishes where it began, a diminuendo of unfettered stone.  Characterful stuff, this Pruliers.  But not too much longer now.  Now.