Amberthorn is exhilarating – neither sugary nor dry, tart nor sweet. Its flavor is summery and fresh, cutting through Amberthorn like the quick swipe of a scythe through the center of a honeycomb.

But sweet is nothing without some nettle – that prick from a thorn can feel disturbingly good:

The unusual and unexpected are what make us feel alive.

Amberthorn is rich and aromatic. Botanicals like Chinese Anise, French lavender, and holy basil add a novel verdant quality. A squeeze of citrus rounds out the warm fruit of apple brandy. It’s a little bit thorny because it’s a little bit delicate — the botanicals we use are rare indeed, and so we make only very limited quantities.

So, what’s with the name?

The difference between the right word and almost the right word is the difference between the lightning and the lightning bug. (Thank you Mr. Twain). So we spent considerable time figuring out the right name to call our summer-honey-colored vermouth. “Dry” and “French” were simply untrue; “white” was closer, but not quite right.

We started with the warm, nearly-glowing color. Amber begins as tree resin, then fossilizes into the glassy material that has been used as jewelry since the stone age. It can also serve as a perfume, and has medicinal purposes. It’s transformative; it’s rare. It’s us.

Then we moved on to taste. Our lighter vermouth is complex, warm and unexpected. It comes on strong and segues into soft – a little prickle to shelter the sweet. Like a thorn, existing to protect the most vulnerable of nature’s creations – delicate roses, soft berries – it embodies function and strength.

Our blonde vermouth is transformation. It’s sharp and gentle. It’s a metamorphosis of wine, brandy, honey, herbs and spices into something entirely new.