Pale pink salmon is her chiffonous gown, splashed liberally with dashes of burnt blood orange, Apis Cera bees wax, Magellan Coral zinnia, Cranberry Crush hibiscus and ruby red grapefruit, of course. She flows, ever so silkily across your tortured togue, decadent as Uni, deftly topped with an unbroken quail egg yolk and freshly diced wasabi, as blistering as scallop ceviche marinating in fresh Fresno chilis, harvested forthwith from the briny calm crystal-clear waters of Santa Cruz Island southwest of Santa Barbara. Like diving bravely in from under sail, your only choice is to jump right in. Oh, and her perfume, yes, her perfume dazzles with dollops of honeydew melon, sprays of star jasmine, sashays of saltwater and fragrant Santolina flowers, cool and comforting like a chilled Crimson Sweet watermelon slice on a hot summer day. Now, as you make your way further south down the California coast, your anticipation grows, ever increasing like the heat of the Mojave Desert, like the buoyant beat of your mouthwatering daydream drum. Finally, visions of juicy grilled Baja vermillion-red rockfish tacos topped with purple cabbage and chipotle lime crema push out all attempts at cognition, as you endlessly sink into her sumptuous peach, nectarine and strawberry sunset.

notes by clay selkirk, winemaker & all-around cowboy