Blonde Ambition '27nd

Fresh salt spray o'er the nose, cheeks and eyes. The bracing vitality is an assurance of your best self. Without coming on too strong, there's no lack of possibility in the yellow hued thick elaborate texture. It carries a honey cherry that, while genuine, isn't so important in the end. Unique among blondes, there is no finish, but rather an infinitely evolving epiphany. Yeasted milder than it is to disguise its dizzying intellect, its serious place in the canon, its communicable strength of character.
Bloody, bold, and resolute, no one ever forgets the first time. Drink while getting carried away. Drink it while feeling the best ever. Drink it while imagining twentyfour possible futures, each starting with this one night. There was once a single note of old souled walnut in a sip I once had, and now I find myself hunting for it through the uncharted thickets of ascent.
The waves crash against the sturdy ochre hull and drain out in a steady reassurance again and again. A steady reassurance again. Uphill from the crystal clear pings of inedible leaf and mango are the swarms of activity. Wine which does more in a day than most people do in their cigar box lives. A tight, powerful package. A grim, forbidding delight. An openness that may need to widen your ability to talk about it.
Blue and white striped sailor hats bounce in time on the uniformly blonde heads of the dancing chorus girls putting on the same show night after reassuring night for the drunken reprobates too sloshed on the delicate honeydew veil to remember it. Blended carefully by no fewer than 88 vintners, working in and out of consultation. A together-bringer. A goose fattener. A powersuited semiconstruction of light and danger particles. An again and again forgiveness. A giant hole in the world. An anonymous, tempest-tossed, windswept, sun-bleached, deck swabbed, barnacle crusted, fully rigged, rigid bowed, false finish of chocolate and herbal remedy. A bold red disguised as an insipid white.
A world straddling bigness of taste, a brassness of comfort, a simple song that stands out like a flashbulb in the dark notes of stone and night sky. Blonde to put you at ease, you world of superficialities and no speakers. A wine that says yes. A wine that says show me. A wine that says more. A wine that says grow. A self-fertilizing grape.
Does your conscious bother you? There's no need to be afraid. Inside your head, the wine will put things right, help you prioritize, wonder what you were ever so confused by. One glass leads to another in a cool yellow river, carrying a lost and found simple black cardboard boat, folded by some child, or some father for his son, or some man who never became a father and who never got past childhood.
The most deadly crosshatching yet produced in a wine of this style, a wine of this region, a wine of this treelined hilltopped village acned valley. Down in the galleys, they still drink and upside down they still drink. you may drink it for years before you find out it can never be dismissed. More addictive than most. For sure, more addictive than you can handle.

Varietal: Collaboration
Food Pairing: Let the mermaid do the cooking.