It’s the time served in oak barrels that has given this little apricot a story to tell. His diary from the summer of 2008 involves a day’s sojourn to Northern Italy which ends in a criminal court process that ensued from a large truck hitting a roadside stone. Years later, like a bearded pipe smoker in his old holey Chippendale armchair by the fireplace, pleasantly not old-fashioned: you only wish he’d stay up a little later.
Though all of our spirits stimulate the fantasy, the apricot seems to do a particular number on the nose. Its finish is smooth and elegant, as soft as the skin of its fruit. There s a flowery edge to the experience, tender yet crisp. It s hard to resist touching apricots, right?