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.