Outono Branco

Sometimes fate throws you a bone. This unicorn (403 bottles total) disappeared from Ukrainian shelves 4+ years ago, then someone pours it blind. My brain went everywhere - old-school white Rioja first, something with a decade on it. Then Chablis, Carricante, northern Spanish autochthons... I was properly lost until Portugal clicked. My experience there is embarrassingly thin, but these slightly natural notes layered over age and clear oxidation triggered one specific memory - a wine I'd been dreaming of tasting again. Pure luck it was actually the Frey.

The wine itself? Gorgeous. Salt-spray maritime character meets beautiful oxidation - honey and bruised apples - but then this wild touch of tuzluk with dill sneaks in. Proper ayran vibes in the nose, if that makes any sense. The palate has everything dialled in: long, deep, evolving structure with iodine-salt edges running through its rich core. This isn't a wine you dissect into descriptors - you just let it happen to you.