Twenty five years on.
Saturated ruby, paling rim. Still mostly yang in expression with a surety to his demeanor. Fruit is primordially dense, fervidly indigo. Tannins still run a bit thick and avuncular. Only now, in the shadows he throws at the end, is there a glimpse of his blood and rust origins. A vast and imperial Corton. But strength without compassion leaves me a bit cold. Now – 2020+.