Overview
You'll clock Sauvignon Blanc before you've worked out what's actually in the glass. Freshly cut grass, gooseberry, that unmistakable green snap. It doesn't hide. Grow it in the Loire and you get flint and restraint. Grow it in Marlborough and you get passionfruit cranked to eleven. Either way, skip anything that dials back the acid. That's the whole point of this grape.
“Pungently perfumed, unashamedly tart, immediately recognisable.”




