Top Notes 
Fennel
Rice
Sesame
Cardamom
Heart Notes 
Jasmine sambac
Frangipani
Tonka bean
Magnolia
Base Notes 
Fenugreek absolute
Vanilla
White musk
Ambergris
Meggi
1018 Reviews
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Meggi
Top Review
21
Hard on the Wind
The murmuring of the gods. Aha. Well, what are the gentlemen murmuring about? *listens* Apparently, they are hungry; their murmuring shows quite a vegetable-like start: celery. This doesn't initially bother me, fresh fennel has something similar, and within a few minutes, fennel is good to go as far as I'm concerned. It is currently being steamed.
Further announcements from the murmurs of the gods from the edible corner can be happily and somewhat amusedly checked off: cardamom and sesame are fine, I sense a funny, bready-spicy-warm note. The rice is no less original - a fragrant jasmine rice that Uncle Ben can only dream of. Fenugreek is equally plausible. I like it, for example, in cheese. Also, if I think about it, it can be well imagined in a fragrant mix with celery.
Celery. So here I am back with it. Not by chance; fundamentally (as my favorite colleague confirmed) it actually fits better than fennel. And behind the mundane vegetable, there is indeed, long barely noticeable, a salty-maritime nuance. After two hours, it is, of course, unmistakable. I understand, everything fits together: a vegetable soup is being prepared.
Around midday, our maritime celery note is then complemented by a hint of sweetness. This is nice, because how often does the maritime scent slip into nasty brackish aquatic notes. A gentle jasmine fragrance holds its ground and contributes its part to keeping the scent pleasant. In the meantime, there is also a hint of tonka woodruff pretzel noticeable in the background. Throughout the afternoon, the corresponding vanilla also breaks through, although it remains merely suggestive.
Then there’s a curry twist for which I have no reasonable explanation. It smells - alongside the fenugreek-fennel-celery - somehow distantly like an offbeat curry, without me being able to pinpoint a responsible ingredient. Most likely, I still think of the fennel-anise line. Towards the end, the scent drifts towards musk, but this is unmistakably a pure finisher that does not prevent me from the following conclusion:
Contrary to the range of descriptions, the scent surprisingly comes across as kitchen-like; the various floral mentions lead down a completely false path. Nevertheless, Murmure des Dieux is absurdly not an edible scent, at least not in the strict sense, and it is certainly not a gourmand. While it sails hard on the wind in this regard, it ultimately remains simply perfume. All the mentioned plants have an aromatic potential that can be excellently interpreted away from the kitchen towards mere scenting.
Even celery.
I thank Derailroaded for the sample.
Further announcements from the murmurs of the gods from the edible corner can be happily and somewhat amusedly checked off: cardamom and sesame are fine, I sense a funny, bready-spicy-warm note. The rice is no less original - a fragrant jasmine rice that Uncle Ben can only dream of. Fenugreek is equally plausible. I like it, for example, in cheese. Also, if I think about it, it can be well imagined in a fragrant mix with celery.
Celery. So here I am back with it. Not by chance; fundamentally (as my favorite colleague confirmed) it actually fits better than fennel. And behind the mundane vegetable, there is indeed, long barely noticeable, a salty-maritime nuance. After two hours, it is, of course, unmistakable. I understand, everything fits together: a vegetable soup is being prepared.
Around midday, our maritime celery note is then complemented by a hint of sweetness. This is nice, because how often does the maritime scent slip into nasty brackish aquatic notes. A gentle jasmine fragrance holds its ground and contributes its part to keeping the scent pleasant. In the meantime, there is also a hint of tonka woodruff pretzel noticeable in the background. Throughout the afternoon, the corresponding vanilla also breaks through, although it remains merely suggestive.
Then there’s a curry twist for which I have no reasonable explanation. It smells - alongside the fenugreek-fennel-celery - somehow distantly like an offbeat curry, without me being able to pinpoint a responsible ingredient. Most likely, I still think of the fennel-anise line. Towards the end, the scent drifts towards musk, but this is unmistakably a pure finisher that does not prevent me from the following conclusion:
Contrary to the range of descriptions, the scent surprisingly comes across as kitchen-like; the various floral mentions lead down a completely false path. Nevertheless, Murmure des Dieux is absurdly not an edible scent, at least not in the strict sense, and it is certainly not a gourmand. While it sails hard on the wind in this regard, it ultimately remains simply perfume. All the mentioned plants have an aromatic potential that can be excellently interpreted away from the kitchen towards mere scenting.
Even celery.
I thank Derailroaded for the sample.
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