A tempranillo that is tight, pushy, weighty as quartz. Glinting like garnet and twice as hard. A cartoon anvil that stops just in front of your nose. Grown to focus a field’s worth of sunlight on a few little grapes, like some pastoral hadron collider. To release a torrent of pent-up spice, coffee, anise. Open it and you expose it like a negative, before it expands like a universe.