A word of warning, my little spice-seekers — the Siren calls, and she is not to be trusted. Her song is laced with the wicked, fruity fire of fermented Scotch Bonnet mash, coaxed to life with a devilish splash of orange zest, toasted fennel, and a whisper of tarragon.
Hot? Naturally. Tempting? Irresistibly. But do not mistake this for sweetness. No — this is a mouth-watering ambush of bright, citrus heat and herbal seduction. Chicken wings, beware. Dipping sauces, brace yourselves. The Siren takes no prisoners and leaves only empty plates in her wake.
Label colour may vary (blue, pink, yellow or grey) — we pick at random, so each bottle is a surprise… but rest assured, the burn inside remains consistent and cruel.








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