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This is the Wednesday night book club that turns out to be a front for a sports gambling ring. Up front, refined lemon-meringue formalities and Anjou pear prose, but behind closed doors, reserved suburbanites slamming sidecars and placing bets that would give their accountants conniptions. Take the over on spiced pineapple, call stone fruit to cover the spread, and throw a parlay on vanilla, nutmeg, and that buzzing streak of minerality. Then gather your things, collect your winnings, and tell them you can’t wait for chapter two.
Aged in 65% new French oak for 18 months
