The bottle that put New Zealand on the world wine map, all cut grass and passionfruit and nervy acidity. It tastes like the bright, green idealism the collective starts out with.
Grown in the South Island landscape the novel fights over, this Pinot is wild-berried with a dark, savory undertow. Its pretty surface hides real tension, much like the book.
A guerrilla gardening collective in New Zealand strikes a deal with an American billionaire, and idealism curdles into a thriller. Sharp political satire that turns genuinely frightening in its final act.
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