One hundred bottles, one release.
Old-vine garnacha from a single north-facing parcel above the spring that names the house. Hand-picked in two passes, whole bunches, eleven months in used 500-litre oak—nothing added but patience. Dark cherry, wet slate, a saline finish that asks for another glass.
Three weeks on this page, then gone. When the hundredth bottle leaves the cellar, so does this address.