Crap. As in holy crap, er, Holy Crap I guess. Bone dry, startlingly low oak, pure fruit that crosses between honeydew and cantaloupe without one smidgen of syrup (cantaloupe, what the Australians call rock melon, that’s a much better descriptor, it catches that stoniness of the fruit), crisp, tiny little pasty notes that leave you with a nut butter finish, unbearably delicious.
Price: Expensive. I don’t dip into this category. Although, obviously, some people do. This came sort of gifted, so I researched online after the fact and was astounded at the bottle price. I was a bit cavalier just opening this on a week night but no regrets.
Market Liquidity: Regrets, I’ve had a few, but never one from Margaret River.
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