From high-altitude slopes above the Rhône river, this Syrah exhibits remarkable purity and grace.

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.

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.

Made from vines planted between 1937 and 1976, this cuvée showcases impressive depth and soul.

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

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

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

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.

Round and generous on first blush and then wound up, energetic, and fine-grained on the finish, this thoroughbred wine is sculpted for the cellar but still provides a lot of immediate gratification.

It is a real-deal northern Rhône roasted-slope Syrah that walks the tightrope perfectly between creamy fruit, meaty tannins, and fresh spine.