The scent of that chalice is like a free trip to Pantelleria island.
A place where the hot, dry winds bend the vines and gently comb the Mediterranean scrubland.
It is the perfume of the sea, of the citrus fruits that radiate their essence, of the grass caressed by the breeze.
It is the sun that candies the fruit, the simple and ecstatic beauty of the caper’s pink flower, the scent of its buds.
It is the salt, the dried figs, the charm and the magic atmosphere of the Dammusi (Pantelleria’s typical stone houses) adorned with bougainvillea and palm trees. It is the cool of the evening, as the sun dissolves on the sea’s horizon.