Tomorrow, then.

Earlier this week I told you the bottles finally have their labels, after five months of Portuguese paperwork purgatory.

That post was about how this wine came to be.

This one is about what happens when a bottle of it is on your table.

This is the moment we tasted the finished wine for the first time.

One of the winemakers Gilberto, myself and Rui. We are missing Ricardo — the other winemaker — because he was on holiday.

As a food critic, this is basically my professional opinion on the wine. In very few words.

It was a big day. Nerves.

(imagine if it turned out crap lol)

It’s a Saturday evening, a few weeks from now. People you like quite a lot are around your table.

You pull a bottle out of the fridge with a crown cap like a beer and a signed gold seal on the label that reads ‘Made in Alenquer, Portugal — with Leyla Kazim’.

Someone remarks that it looks a bit different, a bit special. Another asks what it is.

You know the grape is called Sercial, indigenous to Portugal, one most people have never even heard of, let alone tried.

You know the soft bubbles come from nothing being added and nothing being interrupted.

You know the faces of the humans who picked, pressed, bottled, capped and labelled it with their own two hands. You know about the paperwork. You know about the angry post-harvest skin.

And you know me.

You have the story. And a wine that comes with a story tastes even better.

I don’t make the rules.

(You also have the pét-nat ‘things to say to sound cool and clever’ cheat sheet, so frankly you’re dangerous.)

A lemon-yellow pour with a light haze, which is the hallmark of an unfiltered wine; everything stayed in.

Grapefruit, pineapple and orange blossom aromas. Soft, natural bubbles, closer to the gentle fizz of a good cider than the needle-sharp prickle of Champagne.

Smooth and lively, with a fresh finish. 12.5%.

Drink it cold cold cold.

As an aperitif with some nibbles while people arrive, with something sweet at the end of dinner. Or just because it’s a balmy Tuesday evening – my personal recommendation.

That is the entire run; it fits inside a single metal cage. And when they’re gone, that is that. Next year’s grapes will make next year’s wine. These bottles are a one-off and cannot be made again.

Each one carries the seal with my signature on it. One batch, one place, one pair of amateur hands involved at every stage (mine).

(Laura, Sally, Katharine, Julia, and the rest – I see you).

The wine goes on sale tomorrow morning, Monday 17th August. I will email you the link as soon as the doors open.

It will be available for five days only, until 21 August, delivered to your door, worldwide.

And that’s it, there is nothing left to say.

This wine took one year, a skin condition and a small mountain of paperwork to make. Reserving your bottles will take you a couple of minutes.

It would be my great pleasure for you to be one of the very few who get to try the first ever wine with my name on :)

A question while we wait, because I like to imagine these things. Who is the first person you would open a bottle with? Tell me in the comments.

I’m Leyla. I write about what happens when you say yes before you know how, amongst other things. I send these to 11,000+ readers — join them if you’d like it in your inbox.

If this one landed, share it with someone who needs to hear it. And hit the ❤️ so Substack shows it to more people.

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