It rings true; clear as a bronze bell struck in St. Gile’s chapel for the knights, reverberating over and over like the endless speech of a babbling brook hidden high up in heather filled lands. Now, take a moment or two to slow your swirl, gaze longingly upon its vibrantly lush lavender robe, and rejoice resoundingly in its regal ruby plum countenance. Fail not to properly honor this noble flowering thistle, so strong of nature, like twined fibers of braided hemp stained liberally with wild blueberry and thorny dewberry en coulis. Wander over to the docks of Newhaven Harbour, near Leith, and select out a pristine pouting, or gurnard, or perhaps a slippery silver eel for the grill. But beware, for lose your way and you may well feel the sting as it slowly winds its way down into your gullet. Notice the awesome rosemary, tobacco, and persimmon stentorian cacophony, bursting with aubergine, like sparks lusciously leaping from the flaming Quercus petraea timbers of an ancient funeral pyre. Then, much...much later of course, you will have no choice but to be overcome, for this elixir is more potent than black mamba venom dusted in white ghost pepper, Osmin purple basil, Swiss chard, freshly fallen fennel seed and juniper berry beef stew all rolled into one.

notes by clay selkirk, winemaker & all-around cowboy