I have been resting in oak casks for a few months. Away from the light and the bustle I evolve, I blossom. Then a few sharp strokes bring me out of my torpor. The dodge of the cask hands over to a fountain. It is now time for me to get out, to reach the buckets where I can finally display the colour of my new robe. I will give up the lees during the racking, taking advantage of it to breathe and meet with my last case: the bottle.  

I am the 2015 Condrieu Guigal.