Again, bottle variation at this age. The bottle we drank on its thirtieth birthday was a botrytis-bomb, blatant and fat, ludicrously spicy, inarticulate for Barsac. Second bottle: luminescent saffron-gold, it glows as if internally lit. Richly-flavored and satiny, not as treacly as the first example, with a preternatural animation for its size: mock-orange honey, passion-fruit, malt, nutmeg, candied-ginger. Then cooler, more tapered lines that stretch ad infinitum. Concentrated yet gripping and filigreed: a true Barsac. Now – 2018.