This small parcel has a fruit-forward, approachable style, yet with intense spice and licorice in there as well, perhaps from the deep-rooted old Syrah vines.

Hailing from a single vineyard high up on the hill above Saint-Désirat, at the middle point of the Saint-Joseph appellation, this cuvée dials up the fragrance and elegance of Monier-Pérreol’s Saint-Joseph.

This juicy, blueberry-and-leather-infused Syrah with a long finish is ready to drink tonight.

Full of finesse, it opens into black cherry fruits and plentiful violet, soft leather notes playing around the edges.

I would say that Faury does not make Viognier, but rather one hell of a Condrieu, replete with huge apricot and peach aromas and a fresh, regal palate.

Like eating lemon curd at a party that Renoir might have painted—think something like Dance at Le Moulin de la Galette.

Amid the lush fruit runs a delicate current of minerality that lingers on the tongue, as if the wine cascaded down a granite slope on its way into your glass.

Elegance and restraint from one of the hill’s lesser-known terroirs.

The violets, tapenade, and juicy black fruit in your glass is much unchanged from how it’s always been (and should be).

Saint-Josephs from André Perret’s northern part of the Rhône are typically more delicate and floral than their brethren further south around Mauves, the birthplace of the appellation.