The colour is deep — like antique mahogany polished by candlelight. It rolls in the glass with the weight of something aged, something luxurious. The nose is lavish but controlled: fig, orange oil, sandalwood, and dark chocolate, undercut by cigar box and a trace of rose petal. Breathe a little deeper and it shifts — cinnamon, preserved ginger, dried apricot, and a sweet earthiness that speaks of time and cask.

On the palate, it is seamless. The texture is what strikes you first — like silk dipped in honey. Flavours bloom in waves: stewed plum, spiced raisin, candied orange peel, and crème brûlée. There’s depth, but no heaviness. Oak tannin is present, but smooth — a scaffolding that gives structure to all that richness.

It finishes with grace — long, warming, and incredibly balanced. Notes of spice, dried fruit, and sweet citrus stretch out quietly, like the last movement of a symphony.

In summary: Rémy XO isn’t about intensity — it’s about detail. About restraint. It’s a Cognac that rewards patience and rewards silence. It doesn’t shout, it just lingers. And lingers. And lingers.