The long days in Biarritz followed the same perfect rhythm: a morning surf, lunch and a siesta, then an evening surf followed by dinner.

Salty and sunkissed, we would slide into the local bars for pintxos and the catch of the day. Surfing leaves one hollowed out in a good way, and nothing filled that hollow like the local fare paired with the local white wines – sharp, saline, electric things that tasted like a perfect synthesis between the Atlantic out front and the Pyrenees behind.