The White Knuckle is a vertigo-inducingly steep vineyard where large life insurance policies are necessary for the mug that loses the toss to tackle it with the tractor. It’s worth the pain and fear because the ripe cherry and spice-saturated flavours are sensational. Only made in years when the fruit is exceptional, it smells like a centuries-old, kauri trunk fallen in the forest and covered in moss and lichen. An ancient tree soaked with recent rains and slowly merging with the earth below. It’s a strangely lush and sexy smell to match a succulent, exotic palate.
