Thirty years in oak and not an ounce of bitterness. This isn’t a whisky chasing trends — it’s a masterwork of poise and patience. In the glass, it’s antique gold with copper undertones, like the spine of a well-loved first edition.

The nose is soft but layered — waxed apricot, butterscotch, old leather, chamomile, and a whisper of pipe tobacco. There’s dried mango, almond brittle, and warm spice that wafts like incense in a stone chapel. Every inhale feels sacred.

The palate begins gentle, then expands. Caramelized pear, toffee, orange marmalade, dried coconut, and sandalwood. A complexity born not from showmanship but from time. The texture is silk — effortless, polished. Oak is present but never dominant — it frames, not commands.

Mid-palate you find nuance upon nuance: tea leaf, plum skin, macadamia, and a breath of ancient cellar. The spirit hums with confidence — not trying to impress, just being.

The finish is a soft cascade: fruit, wood, malt, memory. Long, evolving, and haunting. This whisky doesn’t shout its age — it whispers it with every graceful sigh. A dram to sip when you need to remember who you are.