This wine is most assuredly a creature from the deep: it has the darkest-dark tone of the Devil’s best mourning cloak, the one he dons betimes, especially before venturing out upon an errand flickering with flames & puffs of smoke. This he generally does after tossing back a double espresso, but contrary to what you’ve been told, I have it on good authority that Old Nick likes the finer things in life, & that’s the chief reason he was summarily demoted; so yes, even though there’s smoke here, it’s not from brimstone, but rather an elegantly refined smoke that’s been in-scented with an ineffable perfume squeezed from sweet red fruit, layered with deviled egg, paprika, a touch of the metallic savor of blood & the umami from that special kind of iridescent dried meat that can only be achieved by a lengthy bit of time upon a rack in the sun. Juicy? Oh, yes, with black & red currants, gunpowder tea & cinnamon-sweat, some crushed black pepper & three toasted cacao seeds pounded to powder using a knuckle bone pestle in an obsidian mortar. Rather sexy in a dangerous sort of way.
notes by John Munch, wineherd & plenipotentiary