Dangerous Charm.

The illicit thrills of drinking Ratafia.

A generous gulp of love potion was unleashed into my glass. It seemed alive and mischievous. Superficially welcoming me with its honey and apricot aromas - This was like accepting candy from a devious , yet devilishly attractive stranger.

It's mischief seemed to climb the edges of my glass with frenzied enthusiasm, eager to work its charms into the flesh of my lips and tongue. A viscosity of longing and misbehaviour was perfectly served - ice cold and laced with the rich delight of Brandy and Chardonnay . I could feel a distinct coating of sweetness that disarmed me completely. My pupils swelled with glorious abandon, my knees weekend slightly along with my social restraint.

This was Ratafia. Who's story goes : Drank in celebration of ratification of European treaties. The French seem to be   the most adamant on the coining of this phrase.

I imagine the Treaty of Versailles being boisterously commemorated with generous swigs of this divine syrup , followed by either boyish battles of bar side ego, or ravenous wanton love making. Either way - passion is incited with every increasingly greedy sip.

Mary Antoinette is rumoured to have favoured this fortified wine as her tipple. I picture a debauched young Marie, bewitched by lust and Ratafia.

In keeping with it's history I can only encourage Ratafia to be enjoyed in one way - from the lips of a Mediterranean lover, so its perfume may hang in the breath caught between hungry kisses.

It also acts as the ideal premise for late night Tapas dining, Foie gras on  crostini, chorico and risotto rissoles, conversation heavy with innuendo, where the practice of feeding ones temptations not only highly commended but strongly recommended.