The southern bank of the Dordogne turns its clay and limestone toward sweetness—not parade-ground botrytis, but the patient kind, where Sémillon softens into honeyed wine that tastes of dried apricot and lanolin, anchored by acidity that keeps the glass honest.
The southern bank of the Dordogne turns its clay and limestone toward sweetness—not parade-ground botrytis, but the patient kind, where Sémillon softens into honeyed wine that tastes of dried apricot and lanolin, anchored by acidity that keeps the glass honest.
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