Bright crimson, amber to the rim. He’s got his feet on the floor and his gaze fixed over the horizon. Barrel tones of smoke and caramel. Whiff of decay, then feral and musky like oleander. The hedgerow fruit has a mature patina and an herbal sheen, feels like it was ripened by the light of the moon. The tannins are driven by plowhorse. Finishes unalloyed and dusty. A riveting dinner companion with rustic fare. Now.
