Picture the hush of early morning on a Cycladic hillside, where the first, shy light scatters across wild herbs and blooming rose hips. A delicate breeze caresses the vines, carrying whispers of Parian winemaking tradition. Notes of crushed redcurrants and a trace of tomato leaf drift through the air, sharp, green, and utterly beguiling.

As you lean into the first sip, everything begins to echo like laughter from a summer gathering, so bright and full of movement. The bubbles dance with finesse, not in haste but in harmony, amplifying the wine’s juicy freshness without overwhelming its tender sweetness. There’s a quiet strength beneath the charm: an undercurrent of minerality, like sun-warmed stone, anchoring the aromatic riot to the land it springs from. Think strawberries dusted with sea salt, lingering on a trail of fine, persistent mousse, like silk unraveling in the glass.