Jancis Robinson

Tastes like an oyster festival in a glass. It’s helter-skelter lemon peel and old tin-buckled buckets of ice; the giddy clink of who-cares glasses and the ripple of laughter and the smell of warm grass turning yellow in sunshine and someone falling backwards on their chair because the ground was too uneven and everyone is paralysed with mirth. It’s salt and who-stole-my-lemon-slice and you-got-doused-with-a-water-gun. And it’s watching those kids dance like there is no tomorrow as the sun sets wide-silver-gold light across the horizon on a warm summer night. My friend tasted this and said to me, ‘You’re never going to drink one bottle of this. It’s a two-bottle wine.’ I’ll make that three.

16.5 Points

By Tamlyn Currin / September 2022