Two oranges — icy cold from the night’s snow — squeezed into a glass.
Absolutely simple and clean across the palate. Mineral-laced, like a mouthful of sea-wind. No cloy, no claggy residue of flavour at the back of the tongue. Glacial and lovely.
I know this is a wine blog. But here’s the thing: I’ve drunk some brilliant wines this year. And I’ve spent more money than I’d care to reckon up on so doing. But that glass of orange juice is right up there with the best of them.