JoeTraudl

Rumor has it that it contains pineapple, and some people will probably identify it - for me, however, the name says it all, at least in terms of the choice of fruit variety.

The apple brandy has a very fruity opening. After a short time, however, it becomes very spicy and woody and almost a little sweet for me.

Anecdote....When I was a child, we had a house with a large garden and far too many apple trees. In itself a dream for climbing and snacking, but it was hard to mow the lawn when there were fist-sized apples everywhere. So we children always had to help clean up the apples and were sometimes even handsomely rewarded by our mother.

Fortunately, there was a wine press in our village that accepted hundreds of kilos of apples every summer and we got them back as pressed liters.

I helped several times with loading and unloading the baskets full of fresh apples. They were stored there in wooden crates and the mixture of freshly pressed apples and old wood is still unmistakable to me today.
A careful spray of Apple Brandy On The Rocks takes me back there every time.

Unfortunately, I can't really relate to the "on the rocks". With ice, aka fresh, I personally don't find the fragrance, rather almost too sweet.

The design of the bottle hits the mark perfectly. It would just be nice if the lid was also made of glass. Unfortunately, it's something along the lines of plastic.

Otherwise very nice as an occasional change for the whole year.

For me, "Grand Soir | Maison Francis Kurkdjian" opens sweetly - spicy, predominantly sweet. It makes you want to snack straight away.

But you have to be careful, because if your nose is once again bigger than your receptors, you quickly get a feeling of olfactory satiety.

I agree that I usually use the fragrance for events on cooler days of the year that are somewhat separate from everyday life. However, contrary to many opinions here, I find that this fragrance can also be worn very well on early summer days in the evening.
When the sun gradually sets and the surroundings are immersed in this wonderful golden-reddish atmosphere, the opulent sweetness of MFK unfolds perfectly.

It shouldn't be too warm, otherwise it will quickly become overwhelming, but try it out!

H+S can definitely be seen!

I'm lying by the sea in the morning. The sun is already high in the sky. The bay in the depths of the Algarve is deserted. A rare sight in this beautiful part of the world. The bay is surrounded by man-high cliffs, which only offer a small view of the vastness of the seemingly endless Atlantic. The rocks are repeatedly conquered by the water. It is already shimmering green in these places.
A few trees behind me. A forest would probably be overstating it. However, they cover and enclose the view.

Behind it is a small village. A fishing village. The first boats return to the deserted bay and the fishermen bring ashore what they were able to win for themselves during their trip on the Atlantic.

Gradually, more and more boats find their way into the bay. Some time passes, the Atlantic becomes rougher. The sun dances to an incomparable beat with the turquoise waves of the sea.
All kinds of inhabitants of the ocean cavort on the cliffs and the tide reveals what the fishermen will be looking out for today. Percebes! They sway in the mighty arms of the Atlantic.

One of the villagers sits down with me. He has an old-looking bottle of dark liquid with him. He places it in the sand. He says nothing. Instead, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. I do the same.

At first, I just feel the sun on my skin. It burns. Now I hear the waves. How they crash against the sharp-edged cliffs. What remains is a short-lasting head of sea salt before the next wave breaks and makes me forget the remnants of its predecessor. Tactful. Powerful. An orchestra. A perfect interplay of nature. I remember the percebes. Dancing in the middle of the spectacle. Swaying in time to the music of the Atlantic. Individual and at the same time in rhythm.

Now I can smell it. That unmistakable scent. It smells of seaweed and other sea plants. I notice the salty air. This must be Sale Marino, I think to myself. With one last breath, I catch a whiff of the trees behind me. This is where I want to stay.

The ringing sound the man next to me makes as he reaches for the bottle with his ring startles me. He holds it out to me. It's port wine.

Why not, actually.