Come for the Tannins. Stay for the existential clarity.

I once shared a bottle of Nebbiolo with a man who thought wine was just a beverage—like soda for adults with money. He swirled. He sniffed. He said, “Mmm. Fruity.”

I said nothing. I let the wine do the talking.

Three glasses in, he asked why Barolo smells like tar and roses.

Five glasses in, he admitted he hasn’t felt real joy since 2013.

Seven glasses in, he called his estranged father.

That’s tannin, my friend. Astringent truth gritting across the tongue until all that’s left is what matters.

Wine doesn’t just intoxicate—it excavates.

So yes—come for the tannins. Stay for the existential clarity.

We don’t serve distraction here. We serve revelation, in stemware.

Welcome to NEUwine. You’re late. We already opened the good stuff.