John Vanderford is a name known by many. In some circles, in fact, it is oft whispered with a certain lofty cachet. But do not make the mistake, as many have, of being intimidated.
You may first notice that I have all thirty-two of my teeth. If you were to sniff at me, a smoky, spicy air of toasted bread, fennel, wild raspberries and old spice teeming with feremonal domination should gently waft upward. On the palate, layers of dark plum, rhubarb, and strawberry fruit, as well as sweet, wet tobacco and pepper are mellowed by a minty freshness of crest total+whitening.
