Below the Salt L’Ardois JaQ “Marc de Canne” Canadian Rum – Review

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Jun 272025
 

For those who trawl the Canadian rum scene and occasionally despair at ever finding a locally made hooch that would blow their hair back and wow their pants off, well, I have a new candidate for you: the very tasty, lightly (very lightly) aged, almost-white stinker of a rum called L’Ardois JaQ, made by a recently opened craft distillery in Nova Scotia run by (and I shit you not) a tug boat captain I met named Gregg Colp, whose business card very appropriately gives his position as “Chief Adept and Bottle Filler” and sort of gives you a flavour for the whole operation.

That preamble requires a lot of unpacking, so bear with me.

Distillery Background

Captain Colp – you gotta love the name – is indeed a tug boat captain for the Arctic sealift. He has been involved in making one form of alcoholic beverage or other, legal or not, commercial or otherwise, since he was a pilchard brewing illicit beer in his backyard. Having studied chemistry at Uni, he then got his master’s ticket and spent the next decades travelling around the Caribbean and other parts of the distilling world, which included interning in Cognac for a venerable maison there (no, not the one you’re thining of) just because it sounded like fun and he wanted to know more about the entire process. The man, you can tell, loved rum.

Anyway, some years ago, as cruel eld frosted his hair and bit at his bones (while simultaneously deflating parts he preferred to remain inflated) he decided he wanted a retirement plan, something to ward of the chill, make a few bucks and indulge his maritime proclivity for rum. After trawling around and consolidating his experience (to augment what he already had amassed in a lifetime of globetrotting, and that’s a lot) and sourcing a double retort pot still, he and his partner Vikki Piersig (her card reads “Chief Mate and gal who makes the distiller and most everything else look good” – people, I cannot make this stuff up!) set up shop as a small distillery in a landaway in Highway 4 in Nova Scotia (very close to the shore dividing it from Cape Breton where his office premises are). In point of fact, as a throwaway factoid, he was offered the opportunity to take over Vernon Walters blacksmith shop in the 1990’s (when he was sailing on the Bluenose itself), long before Ironworks came on the scene and took over the premises to launch Ironworks Distillery. Small world.

That irreverent sense of humour exemplified by the business cards is to some extent also represented by the name of the distillery – Below the Salt. While in today’s world salt is something of a commodity whose major use is a feedstock for industrial chemicals, for most of history it was a tradeable good much used for nutrition and preserving food; trade routes were opened to search for new supplies, and as late as 1860, wars could be fought over it. In medieval times it was a precious resource not often seen except on the tables of the rich, where small pots of the stuff were placed halfway down a noble’s long dining table. The lords, ladies and exalted ones (which is to say, not us) sat “above the salt” as a mark of their lofty station, while us peasants, rabble, assorted commoners and lowlifes sat “below the salt” – and it’s clear where the Chief Adept’s preferences and antecedents lie.

Since Calgary is known for its maritime waterways, it was just a matter of time before Captain Colp sailed into my area with a blatting tantaraa of trumpets, all flags waving, and a fistful of bottles in each hand. And so we met and had a most enjoyable afternoon running through his line of rums, getting progressively more hammered by the minute, until it was all we could do not to break into sea chanteys and do a hornpipe right there in the bar (well…I exaggerate a little for effect because I can’t let a good story pass…but only a little) — and because I really liked this one a lot, I’m going to start with it to give an introduction to the company, the man and the rum

Rum Specs, Tasting Notes

Basically this is a rum that is not quite an agricole-style, but close: cane honey in this case, or more specifically, unrefined Guatemalan and Demerara cane juice crystals (specifically not refined sugar) akin to jaggery or panela, re-liquefied, rendered down to honey, and then fermented for a few days. The distillate coming off the pot still is then aged – if the term could be used – in just about dead’r-than-a-doornail casks sourced in the Caribbean, with little to offer except maybe bad advice, for six to eight weeks: just long enough to impart a little colour, but not enough to appreciably alter the flavour profile that was (and is) desired.

Cap’n Colp is a huge proponent of letting natural flavours pop out, and some edge be retained, without too much oak influence gumming up the works. One aspect of the process that comes in for mention here is that Gregg re-distils the lees in each run, for added flavour and bite and pungency, and it is this step that I believe elevates the rum beyond the puling milquetoast vodka wannabes that populate far too much of the barren wasteland of the Canadian rum shop shelves into something really original.

“Wow!” I wrote in my initial evaluation when I smelled it – “This thing has real character!” And it does. The nose starts out with the aroma of forests and sun-dappled jungle glades steaming after a warm tropical rain: loam, wet earth, brine, mud, waterlogged bark — and believe me, this is far from unpleasant, more like a deep mossy herbal scent that channels cane rum in a fascinatingly different way. And that’s just the start – the fruits make their entrance after a while: ripe green grapes, apples, tart peaches, overripe mangoes, attended by light florals and and sweet sugar water, plus (and I know this will turn some off) ashes and dusty cardboard. I mean, the nose pretty much presses most of the buttons we would expect in an unaged or young agricole from the islands…except that this is made north of 49.

The palate is also really good, notwithstanding the living room strength with which it comes out: it tastes initially of fresh hay drying in the sunshine after a rain, as well as of honey, sugar water, sweet corn, green peas from the can… odd I’ll grant you, but far from unpleasant. Original is not a bad word to describe it, yet completely rum-like. Moreover, after a while we also get white fruits, watermelons, brine, a few Moroccan red olives, a touch of ashes and cardboard again, and just enough lemon zest to make a point without overwhelming everything. It all leads to a subtly powerful finish that sums up all of the above, without adding anything to the party – light fruits, some sour and tart notes, laban, yogurt, ashes, lemon zest and a nice filip of delicate florals.

Summing Up

Like I said, it’s a lot, and I think that as a sipping rum,it’s really nice, even if the company website suggests it’s something of a mixer’s ingredient (good for a “caipirinha, pisco sour, mojito, and even some traditionally tequila based drinks” says the website). It has that versatility of purpose that I think makes for a good rum that tyros can cut their teeth on, without alienating more experienced drinkers. It works, in short, on many levels at once.

Lest you believe this was the romanticized ravings of an over the hill reviewer who imbibed too much, and got far too high on his friend’s supply, I invite you, should you come across a bottle, to give it a try. It reminds me of some lof the experiments I tried from those new UK distilleries a year or two back – it shares much of the same sense of untamed wild madness, the desire to go where the process led and to hell with tradition. It’s a sort of analogue to writing, I think – you write what you yourself want to read and head in the direction where that leads you.

Here, Gregg Colp has experimented, added eye of newt and tail of toad into his cauldron, stirred, added some spider’s webs and his own personal brand of magic – and come up with a rum that he himself wanted to drink. And man, does it ever work, on many levels. I’m going to go right out there and buy pretty much everything else the guy makes, I’m that impressed with it. I hope you can try it yourself one day, and see if you agree.

(#1122)(86/100) ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

  • Video recap link of the review
  • Video recap of the distillery background
  • There’s a non-rum-related story behind the photograph and the name of the rum, but the website covers enough of that and this review is already too long. It channels a typically Maritime sense of humour, tall tales of the Paul Bunyan and Pecos Bill stripe, plus a play on words that any punster would enjoy. I’ll leave you to check it out.
  • The outturn is unknown. A few thousand bottles per batch, I think.
  • The company is available on social media (FB, IG, YT) and their website is here.

Rum Sponge 1998 Caroni 25YO Trinidad Rum – Review

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May 242025
 

There’s a reason I don’t buy many rums from the relatively recently established indie bottler of the Rum Sponge, and that’s all about the price. It’s not that I can’t afford one here or there, but to get them all is just too much, and leaves me like a smelly over-the-hill mendicant whining for samples from the more generously endowed. In this case, however, a Calgary Book Club whisky lover bought a bottle and brought it along just to have the rowdies try it, and I was able to sample it without denuding my already slim purse.

For those who are not familiar with it, Rum Sponge is a UK indie bottler, an offshoot of Angus MacRaild’s whisky facing Whisky Sponge brand, itself a part of his company Decadent Drinks. Angus has had an eponymous whisky blog running since about 2013 with witty and insightful posts on the subject, and a few years ago became a second contributor to Serge Valentin’s famed review site Whiskyfun. I don’t know how long he’s been bottling whiskies, but rums only started to come out around 2020 or so.

Edition No.1 rum, a Caroni, was issued in that year, and by 2025 Rum Sponge has released at least 35 different editions. Just about all are single casks (though there are a few blends) and characterized by Angus’s desire to issue rums that are distillate driven, which is something that is also part of his whisky bottling philosophy. I’ve tasted a few, and they’re pretty good for the most part, if expensive, and limited in geographical scope – all so far derive from only three countries: Guyana, Trinidad or Jamaica.

The rum we’re looking at today is from Caroni, a 1998 distillate, aged 25 years, and is Edition No.23. The bottle remarks that it was aged some 11-13 years in Trinidad and the remainder in the UK, has a strength of 57.1%, a single barrel 250-bottle outturn, all of which is nice: yet curiously it doesn’t say whether it is column or pot or blend, which is an odd omission.

Be that as it may, I have to admit the rum is a very very good one: the man knows how to pick ‘em. Consider first the nose: it starts of dry, tannic, and has the immediate sense of bitter high-octane unsweetened dark chocolate. It melds well with caramel, molasses, vanilla and icing sugar, which linger for a while before being added to by dates, prunes, plums, dark olives, a little brine and (get this!) printer ink cartridges and iodine. That’s quite a nose to unpack, trust me.

The palate is similarly intriguing and delicious: it tastes of tannins, crushed walnuts, almonds and black chocolate, and adds to it with more dark fruits (plums, prunes, etc). There are notes of caramel and vanilla, and the slightly bitter tannins take something of a back seat now, with a sweeter fruity aspect coming to the fore – five finger (carambola), peaches, very ripe mangoes, and orange peel. It’s really quite tasty, and it slides into a surprisingly gentle yet long-lasting denouement of caramel, molasses, sugar water and fruitness that’s enormously alluring.

Overall, I like the way it segues from a crisp and almost bitter start to something mellower and sweeter, deeper and more rounded, as it opens up. The balance is excellent and the rum can be sipped with ease – the whisky anoraks who tried it were all quite fulsome in their praises, as I was, so it has an audience beyond just the deep rum divers who dissect every nuance of favoured distilleries.

Yet, let’s be clear. There is little here that screams Caroni. The fusel oils, the dark petrol and kerosene tastes we associate with the type are mostly absent, so this is not a Caroni one should be starting with if one wishes to get a handle on the style – therein will lie disappointment. And then there’s the matter of the price – it’s Can$550. I can’t speak of the cost structure for Angus’s company or how much the barrel itself cost to buy or what ancillaries he had to pay for, but with so many other indies putting out equally aged rums over the last decade which are cheaper and of good quality, that just seems to be too much, even for a famous, closed distillery with limited remaining stocks.

So based on those standards, I’d have to say that as a Caroni, the rum fails, and one would have to be a serious aficionado to pay the price to get it. But man, as a rum, just a rum – the thing is quietly outstanding. And I’m seriously glad I got chance to try it. It’s worth it for that alone.

(#1121)(90/100) ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

Don Q 151 Overproof Puerto Rican Rum – Review

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May 182025
 

As I remarked in the Don Q gold rum review not too long ago, the Puerto Rican producer, Distileria Serrallés, has three tranches of rums in its portfolio, up and down the value chain. There is the “traditional” range which includes the Gold, the white Cristal … and today’s subject, the overproof 151. These are mixing agents of a little ageing and are quite affordable. Then there are some flavoured offerings I ignore, and after that everything is lumped into the “Serrallés Collection” which has some older offerings, a spiced rum (oddly enough), a single barrel or two and some that are a bit fancier, with finishes and secondary maturations and so on.

Whatever the type of rum that is being made, pretty much all of what they produce is short-fermentation, molasses-based, column-still product, with perhaps some pot still elements contained within to give some depth. The variations come from post-distillation barrel, blending and wood management, not earlier stages in the production process, which is par for Latin / Spanish style rons.

Here, while I have little to go on, I think it’s safe to assume that it’s all column still. The rum was aged “up to” three years in ex-Bourbon barrels and is consistently made, so of course it’s a blend. Unfortunately the website doesn’t tell me much about anything else, such as, for example, whether they filtered it before bottling, or added a touch of colour. I guess we have to take it as it comes.

So, the nose: because it’s 75.5% ABV, letting it stand so as to burn off the alcohol fumes is a good idea – once that’s done, it starts off unexpectedly soft before turning into a snarling tiger of a rum. It has sharp and sweet notes of marshmallows, smores mixed up with a sort of dusty cardboard and peeling wallpaper scent. Fortunately this is somewhat redeemed by caramel, cherries, strawberries and light red fruits, and of course there is a touch of vanilla and smoke from the barrel coiling around in the background.

I can’t say the palate does much more than this. The light fruits continue to be the dominant note, and of course at that strength one sips with care, nothing new here. Still, there is a bit more here: light salt-caramel flavoured chocolate, breakfast spices and cinnamon to start, and also pears, cherries, vanilla and some candy floss. The finish, as one might expect, is long and lasting, quite hot, sharp and raw, which I guess we can expect. So nothing too complicated that might make one reach for one’s tasting wheel, just enough to stop it from being boring or indifferent.

It’s actually not bad at all for an overproof 151 that’s made for the back bar. So many 151s that I’ve tried tend to be rather indifferently made, with the strength standing in for, oh, I dunno, an actual taste profile – one always gets the impression they take a sort of masochistic pleasure in doing the wildcat-in-the-face thing, y’know? They’re raw and pestilential, sharp, strong and have little to recommend them beyond that, but a little patience with this one makes the subtler notes come out of the woodwork in a way that’s quite pleasing … after one adjusts one’s tonsils.

So, taken as it is, the Don Q 151 is surprisingly good when rated to that standard: not a throwaway by any means. It’s more like Serralles shrugged, gave a finger to the establishment and said We’ll make ours in our own way and let’s see if we can’t raise the bar a bit. It’ll never be a top flight rum, or a connoisseur’s must-have, me-wantee wet dream, no – but it’s a solid rum of better than expected quality that I wouldn’t mind having in my own collection to sip at or mix now and again

(#1120)(80/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

Bacardi Superior White Rum – Review

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Apr 272025
 

Bacardi’s white “Superior” rum is paradoxically both one of the most popular, best selling rums in the world, as well as one of the most sneered at. Any time we extol the magnificence of the unaged Jamaicans, clairins, grogues, agricoles or charandas, it is very likely that the lightly aged, filtered Bacardi product comes in for mention, rarely in any kind of positive light. At best it excites a sort of monumental indifference. Yeah, we drink it but….

The Superior is one of those rums that made the name of Bacardi. At the time of its initial introduction in 1862, rums were made rough and ready, and deserved the name of bathtub moonshine. But by playing with the distillation technology and filtration, Bacardi made a light, smooth, easy rum that was almost completely new. It disappeared into drinks but was easy enough to drink by itself. As the cocktail culture expanded it was a perennial – and recommended – favourite of the mojitos, the daiquiri, the Cuba libre and various others, because it had just enough lightness to not overpower a cocktail, while possessing enough character to be seen as a rum in its own right.

I can only imagine how poorly made the white rums of the age that created it really were, because by modern standards the Superior is regarded with apathy by most lovers of sipping rums, rather than with any kind of excitement. It remains a column still product from a short-fermented wash, that is lightly aged in American oak barrels, with the base recipe only marginally tweaked in all the years between then and now. I have no records as to how it was made back in the 1800s but now it’s considered to be a blend of a heavier “aguardiente” (pot still rum) and lighter column still high-proof distillate, which is then aged for about a year and then filtered, dialled down to standard strength, and blended for consistency.

From those rather straightforward, even humble, production processeses comes one of the most well known rums ever made. It is cheap, affordable, a staple of the mixing culture, is a behemoth of the spirits world. It’s been around forever. It sells pretty much everywhere. It is available all over the world. It is mentioned in the literature, in cocktail manuals, and is an entry point to rums for first time drinkers and aspiring mixologists since time out of mind. And it cannot be easily discounted just because of its ubiquity or its cheapness or its light flavour profile.

Speaking for the modern drinker, it’s nothing special. The nose bears this out: very light, very thin, and redolent of rubbing alcohol, acetones, sugar water, cotton candy and vanilla. There’ a barely perceptible touch of almonds and peaches and maybe coconut shavings, but for many, to even get this much is a reach into uncharted waters. Who on earth would take this much time to tease out even those tasting notes? Not many.

And the taste isn’t any better. It’s lightly sweet, has some flowers, re sugar water, more coconut shavings, a touch of citrus zest, more vanilla, an unpleasant whiff of ethanol and not a whole lit else. It concludes i a finish that sums things up nicely: thin, anorexic, inoffensive, with few flavors bleeding over to provide a conclusion that can be admired.

To be sure, the rum has its adherents: one redditor, a few years ago, went against the tide and scored it 8.5, and there is no shortage of people who like it this way just fine. It does the job it was made for – to this day Bacardi makes it clear it’s a mixing rum and nothing else – and few ask for more, especially when a 1.75L bottle costs around fifty (Canadian) dollars in some places. You want a drunk, an alcoholic hit, a base for cocktails? This is the one, for sure.

Based on my experience with rum from around the world and across the quality, age and strength spectrum, nowadays I think of it as a rum lacking sufficient passion, panache or character, and has just enough hooplah to not make it alcoholic sugar water (for which we should give thanks). Others will doubtless have different opinions. But the world has moved on, and we are not in the era of foul rotgut made without standards, where any well-blended halfway decent rum can make a huge impact. From its lauded beginnings where it arguably changed the rumiverse, it has become something of an also-ran, left-behind product; an always available, always affordable rum that’s made to sell and made to mix, but not really made to enjoy, no matter how many glossy ads tell us the opposite.

(#1119)(70/100) ⭐⭐

Other notes

Amrut Two Indies Dark Rum (India) – Review

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Apr 212025
 

You’d think that after a bit more ageing and less components to squabble together, the lacklustre performance of the underwhelming White would be somewhat redeemed, but naah, there isn’t much to report here either. Amrut continues to chase the mass market at the expense of something (anything) more upscale, and I guess we’ll have to accept that and move on.

Just to recap the background, Amrut Distillers is an Indian-founded and Indian-run spirits company which, unlike several other Indian spirits combines, did not originate from a British run colonial enterprise, and has always been completely local. They have been making rums for far longer than the whiskies for which they are now much more famous, and in the 2024 Paris Whisky Live, I took the time to see if they had upped their game any, by running through the entire (2023 released) rum line which they had on display.

In this case, that was the Two Indies “Dark” rum, which is not an aged version of the white we’ve looked at before, but a different rum altogether, with only two parts to the blend: a jaggery-based pot still rum made in the state of Karnataka and aged there in ex-bourbon, and a Jamaican rum. Now this is where we have to be careful, because RhumAttitude (a French online liquor store) says the non-Indian part is a blend of aged rums from Jamaica, Barbados and Guyana, while my preceding comment comes from Amrut’s own website product page. Moreover, it’s unclear whether the resultant blend was further aged, or simply left to marry and then bottled – if they follow the production policy of the white, then the blend is probably aged around one more year. We should accept, I think, that it’s a lightly aged sub-five-year rum and leave it there.

We may be on short rations with the info that’s provided, so let’s go to the tasting. The nose of the 42,8% Dark presents with an initial note of brine, olives, avocados, raisins, and very ripe cashews on the edge of going off. Unsurprisingly we can also smell some caramel, brown sugar, light molasses and bourbon, together with a snap of cinnamon, coca cola, freshly ground coffee beans and tannic, oaky hints bringing up the rear.

Palate wise, it’s not the sort of thing that would drive a cask-strength aficionado into fits, while fitting well for those who don’t mind something easier (and, yes, sweeter). A soft, easy, dark mouthfeel with the same raisins, olives and brininess, and maybe a few more dark fruits (prunes and plums and sapodilla). The nice thing about it is that it adds a bit of smoke and tannic bitterness at the tail end, which rescues it from sugar oblivion, and leds into a short finish that recaps all of the above and exits too quickly.

I genuinely don’t know if Amrut adds anything to the blend to make it easier sipping, but it’s hard to not at least consider the possibility. The rum just tastes a bit too caramel-y. and is sweet and thick — too much to be simply good blending, and even if this conjecture is out to lunch, it says a lot about the doubt in which Indian rums are held generally that we could entertain the thought constantly, whenever we try one.

Did I like it? A bit, I guess. My tastes are pretty ecumenical and I can appreciate a low-ender made to a different standard and for a different audience in a different country, if made with passion and ambition, as much as a top flight rum that’s more exactingly and imaginatively produced. Here what we have is a rum that seems more tailored not to piss anyone off rather than appeal to any one demographic. It is, even with the tasting notes described, somewhat simplistic, has that sweetish note, and, in the words of one frined of mine, is something of a one-trick pony that vanishes too damned fast.

The majority of Amrut’s rum sales continue to be internal rather than exported (although they do have an ever-increasing presence around the world), but they have yet to produce a rum on the level of the initial Single Malt that gave them such status and kickstarted the premium whisky game in India. The Two Indies Dark is unfortunately not the one to spearhead a similar revolution in rum, in India or elsewhere.

(#1118)(78/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

  • Video recap link
  • More production data (from the review of the white rum (R-1102)): The source of the juice is the Bangalore facility where the company HQ is also located, from cane grown in their backyard, and the jaggery. This is unrefined brown sugar from palm sap or sugar cane juice, with a higher mineral and vitamin content, and a staple and nutritional supplement in many parts of the world. It is known as “gur” in Urdu, “gud” in Hindi, and “vellam” in Tamil. Many Indian distillers use it to make their spirits instead of molasses; it is sourced from India’s sugar city of Mandya, SW of Bangalore. The distillates from whatever source are blended (and likely aged for a short eight-months-to-one-year period in ex-bourbon casks), then released at 42.8%, which is the Imperial 75 proof from colonial times that was never abandoned.

That Boutique-y Rum Co. Ten Cane 2009 14YO Trinidad Rum (Batch #1) – Review

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Apr 182025
 

Ten Cane rums don’t seem to be disappearing from the indie bottling scene any time soon, given the variety of small companies who put out small bottling runs from the now closed LVMH-created Trini-located micro-distillery every year or two. We have seen expressions from The Duchess, TBRC, Rom Deluxe, Rum Artesanal, Kill Devil, Berlin’s Rum Club, Valinche & Mallet, BBR, Cave Guldive, L’Espirit, Holmes Cay, Rum Shark, Whisky & Rum, Familia Ricci, Blackadder, and, oh, quite a few others, some more than once. Here, from That Boutique-y Rum Company from England, we have an interesting one that was made in 2012, is a nice rounded fourteen years old…and a serious 60.4% ABV.

For those new to “Ten Cane” rums, they were made in Trinidad, in a small distillery based in Usine St. Madeleine, using two Charentais cognac copper pot stills brought over by the fashion house of LVMH (the MH part of it, at any rate) who originated the brand. The idea was to make cane juice rum sourced from local producers in the agricole style, and certainly the rums that were produced are quite different from the regular run-of-the-mill Angostura blends, or even today’s TDL single barrel expressions which are beginning to make a splash.

Those I’ve tried are damned good rums, as this one so elegantly demonstrates. The nose, oddly enough, is remarkably dark and tannic, with the oak influences quite clear (though thankfully not excessive), mixing it up with caramel, toffee, vanilla, and the tart aroma of mauby bark and cinnamon. A whisky anorak next to me remarked there were some deep oily notes, almost savoury aspects to it (which he really liked), and while I think he was reaching myself, we both agreed there were nice notes of black ripe cherries, ripe oranges and traces of brown sugar, especially on a fresh pour.

The palate shows why we should approach aged cane juice rums — in particular the older ones — with some caution. Fresh, unaged white agricoles are as close to true terroire as we can get in our world, and that’s part of their attraction; yet the moment they are put into a barrel, some of that is lost as the interaction with the wood mellows the hot fierceness of the initial distillate. The taste of this fourteen year old rum shows less juice and more cask, so to speak. There are well integrated notes of leather, smoke, vanilla and caramel tastes, then black ripe cherries, some pineapple and citrus, dates, figs and pomegranates, even some coca cola and aromatic damp tobacco. And stale coffee grounds and wet ashes, which are thankfully faint. The finish is fine – long, as one would expect from something with such a jacked up proof, and giving more of the same – dried fruits, black cake, tobacco, citrus, and not much else – but that’s quite e nough, I assure you.

This is quite a good piece fo work.It goes down remarkably easily, and doesn’t punish a deep swig. The flavours mesh well and are deep and tasty, and while the connoisseur might not find mich that is new, it is clearly separable from the more mass market offerings from Angostura proper, and you would never mistake this for a Caroni, of course. Had the owning company persevered and held on a for a few more years, I think that we would have seen a unique and different style of rum making emerge from Trinidad.

Alas, Ten Cane is no more: after less than ten years, the costs, the financial environment, other priorities, lower than expected sales or simple lack of interest, resulted in the company folding its tents in 2015, mothballing the stills and walking away from the venture. All we have left now, is the various expressions that small independent are issuing: and once those are gone, well, maybe it’s going to be another Caroni, or maybe just another idea ahead of its time that few will remember ten years from now.

And yet, we keep seeing them, in small shelves in various stores, online, and in occasional comments on social media by drinkers who recall the rum with fondness. I’m one of them, and I think that the brand, long after its dissolution, will one day be seen as a worth entry to the rum canon. This Ten Cane rum from TBRC shows why that is the case and it’s a shame that one day, we won’t get any more.

(#1117)(86/100) ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

  • Video recap link
  • I get really impatient when modern rum outfits that are part of yet bigger companies don’t update their web pages with details of bottlings past or present – we’re past the stage of the internet being a new thing or some sort of fad that needs the bare minimum. TBRC’s website has no entry for this rum in the product page, it doesn’t show up on a search on the site… and yet it does exist in a blog post featuring “TBRC at the movies”. Which is fine, except that if you didn’t know it was there, you wouldn’t look for it, now, would you?
  • The label, done by computer artist Jim’ll Paint It refers to classic film noir: the washed out colours cut through by night lights seeping through the blinds, the hat, the trench coat, the weary gumshoe who talks tough and cracks wise… unofficially, it’s all Bogie as Philip Marlowe and “The Big Sleep”, but you don’t need to know that to appreciate the design,even if it has little if anything to do with rum.

Compagnie des Indes Trinidad 2012-2021 “Ten Cane” 9YO Rum – Review

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Apr 142025
 

The rumisphere is littered with the detritus of small companies and experiments that started off well and then just gave up and died at the side of the road. The original and the new Renegade company, Toucan, Nine Leaves, all those small British merchant bottlers from decades past, they all bear witness to efforts that sadly could not be sustained, leaving us poorer than before. It’s usually economics, of course, but here with the Ten Cane brand, one would have thought the deeper pockets of the parent company might have allowed it to find its feet and establish a better market presence – alas, this never happened.

Ten Cane is the brainchild of LVMH (Louis Vuitton Moet Hennessy, home of the bags Mrs. Caner lusts after and beggars me to buy), who had the excellent idea to make artisanal rums in Trinidad by shipping over a pair of copper charentais pot stills from France in 2003, and making cane juice rums at Usine St. Madeleine together with Angostura (who provided logistical support and facilities).

The idea was a good one and I still feel they were a little ahead of their time – the rum renaissance had not yet hit its peak – but clearly the sales were less than what was hoped for, and even after they started doing a blend of molasses and cane juice rums under the Ten Cane moniker, as well as shipping bulk to Europe for indie bottlers to work with, it didn’t pay off. In 2015 they ceased operations altogether and the remaining stock of ageing barrels were shipped over to Foursquare, and then Europe. We can still find various expressions around the indie circuit, but they are getting less all the time, and now knowledge of the brand is limited mostly to aficionados, or the odd post here or there about some dusty bottle found somewhere. Oh, and as an aside, those cognac pot stills were left to gather dust, until San Juan Artisanal Distillery in Puerto Rico outfit saw their potential and bought them to ship to their own distillery, a few years after Ten Cane folded.

All this then leads us to one of the earlier indies from the 2010s, Compagnie des Indes, based in France, run by that very likeable chap Florent Beuchet. Although he made his name with single cask bottlings for which the company remains best known, its the blends like Tricorne or Darklice or Caraibes or Latino which keep the lights on – much as many other indies have been doing to subsidize their more exclusive high proof single cask bottlings. This edition of the Ten Cane distillate was made in 2012 and bottled in 2021. It’s a single cask expression of 226 bottles, issued at a solid 57.9% and apparently all cane juice source.

Tried in conjunction with the Rum Artesanal Trinidad TDL 2002 19YO (review coming soon to the site near you), it snaps into focus with an aroma of dry, briny and dusty aromatic notes, with a nice background of less-sweet figs, dates, pomegranates and dark honey. There isn’t a whole lot of fruit here, but as if to compensate, what we can sense is caramel, honey, toffee, vanilla, a rich cheesecake, nutmeg cumin, cloves, and even a sly hint of new leather furniture that’s been well polished. Cane juice? It doesn’t present that way, really, at least not entirely. The literature is inconclusive on this point, and I do think it’s a bit of both molasses and juice, but Florent Beuchet did come back to me and confirm it was all cane juice distillate, so maybe it was just the ageing.

The taste does seem to confirm this, as there are slightly more of the grassy and herbaceous agricole style notes ot be found here. It tastes a bit sweeter than the nose suggested, and is also somewhat lighter, cleaner. There’s a nice sense of salted caramel ice cream, concentrated rum-soaked black cake, brine, olives, raisins and cereals, and the faintest touch of unripe green apples and lemongrass, with a gradually increasing citrus taste to it, far from unpleasant. All this leads to a medium long, dry and sweetish finish that wraps up the show quite nicely, without adding anything new.

On balance, I can’t say the rum impressed me that much (though I’d buy it if the price was right). It’s a decently made product with a nice series of aromas and tastes, yet it remains somewhat thin even at its strength, and overall, it suggests potential more than actuality. Moreover, the profile just doesn’t come together very well, and one gets the impression the various elements of sweet, salt, fruit and what have you, are playing against each other, rather than working together to provide a cohesive tasting profile. It makes the overall experience less, if only for me.

Although Ten Cane issued rums since at least 2008 when the ageing was a mere eight months or so (I’ve read here and there that some people believe many of the best ones were distilled around that time) they only really started popping out of the woodwork on the festival circuit, online shops and social media ecosystem a few years later. These days one can, with some effort, find indie bottlings by The Duchess, TBRC, Rom Deluxe, Valinche & Mallet, BBR, Cave Guldive, L’Espirit and even Holmes Cay. The original LVMH bottlings have now become auction house listings one sees only rarely, yet, paradoxically, the last one I saw went for £35 in 2024, which even for standard 40% strength, is remarkably cheap compared to the indies. I didn’t pick it up back then, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t if the chance comes up again. It’s a good rum in its own right, no matter who makes it or what this review implies.

(#1116)(82/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Other notes

Shakara 12 YO Thailand Rum (Sang Som) – Review

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Apr 072025
 

Even now, all these years after the Demeraras, Caronis, Indian Ocean series, Hampdens and Habitation series, Velier continues to be able to pull out a new rabbit from the hat every now and then, something we have not quite seen in this way before. There were the last Nine Leaves expressions from last year, the Amrut from a few years back, the new Habitation Velier Nepalese rum that popped up a few months ago – and last year, at Whisky Live, they debuted the Shakara 12YO rum from Thailand.

Now Thailand generally does not loom large in the pantheon of countries whose rums we lust after. I’ve reviewed Sang Som and Mekhong rums in the past, and there are smaller outfits like Issan (quite good) and Chalong Bay (also very good) who are raising the profile of the country with their artisanal rums. They are at opposite ends of the divide: the former is mass market (sometimes possibly adulterated) molasses-based standard-strength tipple for the general population, and the latter is small batch, relatively limited release made from cane juice.

The Shakara rum straddles this divide. It is a molasses-based, column-still rum, made and aged completely in Thailand in the province of Nakhom Pathom, which pinpoints the distillery of origin as Sang Som, even if this is not mentioned anywhere in the available literature (the company, founded in 1977, also makes the Phraya brand of rums, for which I have tasting notes somewhere but never got around to writing about – yet). It has been aged for twelve years in situ, but again, we are not told anything about what kind of barrels they used (I’ve read elsewhere that it’s ex-bourbon), or any more detail about the production process – we can assume it’s the same as the Phraya, perhaps, but the pickings are slim there too.

Be that as it may, this is a rum bottled at 45.7%, and while we do not know the outturn, the rum is being distributed in North America as well as Europe, and we can reasonably assume there are at a minimum several thousand bottles out there, for that kind of geographical spread. It is also quite a nice mid-range rum, I think, strong enough to make it appealing, while not so high-proof as to alarm the less adventurous.

And the profile is really quite good, it must be said, even if it breaks relatively little new ground. It has an initially smoky aroma, redolent of burnt caramel, ginger, brown sugar, coconut jelly, plus some musty paper, cardboard and woody scents behind that. Leaving it to open for a while is helpful: it becomes vaguely sweet with a nice yellow mango and citrus background, together with notes of kimchi, orange peel and some iodine. Some real and surprising character emerges here, I think, yet all the while the rum remains nicely mild and is really easy nosing.

The palate does not veer too far away from this, and builds upon those notes. It is relatively quiet for the strength, a touch thin, but presents well with initial flavours of sandalwood, figs, cereal, coffee grounds, a hint of crushed walnuts, and vanilla. The brown sugar and caramel takes on a more commanding aspect here, and I think that may be a bit excessive at times, although it recedes after a few sips and doesn’t overstay its welcome too much. In all honesty, it reminds me somewhat of a dry Diplomatico, or a less sweet Zacapa – it has the same gentle vibe as those two, and slightly more of an odd edge, and it’s just not as sweet as either, which is a relief. The finish lingers just long enough to make itself known, with final touches of lemongrass, pine, mint, nuts, vanilla, salt caramel ice cream, and again, that touch of overripe orange peel.

Tasting notes are one thing, but what’s the assessment? Well, I think it’s a relatively easy, approachable sort of rum, that will be appreciated by those who prefer a more dialled down product, a blend, not a single cask pot still overproof fighting tiger like the Hampdens or the Habitation series. This is not some exacting full proof hi-test that is for connoisseurs of the top end, but a rum with more in its trousers than just its hands, and is for all to like and appreciate when something is looked for that will work well by itself or in a mix, while not being nearly as simple as it starts out.

Velier is not known for making rums for general audiences in the way that many smaller outfits do in order to make better sales and subsidize the more exclusive upscale halo bottlings, yet here, in chosing the barrels that made this blend, they have admirably found a balance between the fierce and the gentle, the connoisseurs’ jaded palate and the casual drinkers’ less demanding tastes, while taking the whole experience at slightly right angles to any kind of “standard” profile for both. That’s quite an accomplishment, I would say, for a rum so readily available, and so easily affordable.

(#1115)(83/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Other notes

  • Video recap link
  • The rum cost me Can$70 at Kensington Wine Market in Calgary in April 2025, but I first tasted it at the WhiskyLive Paris in 2024.
  • In his video essay on the rum, Arminder of Rum Revival mentioned that Velier picked up a bulk consignment and built a brand around that. His review is well worth watching and the backgrounder on ThaiBev (the owning company) is very useful.
  • “Shakara” is the sanskrit word for sugar (some say sugar cane).

Rivers Royale “Slightly Overproof” Grenadian White Rum – Review

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Apr 032025
 

We have looked at rums from Rivers Antoine before, although admittedly that was just the regularly available 69% version, which I’ve tried several times. Now, Rivers Antoine is a very old rum making estate on Grenada — they date back to 1785, were certainly in existence since two decades before that, and have only grudgingly upgraded their facilities in all that time — and is perhaps unique in that they not only grow their own sugar cane with which they press and render to “honey” make their rums, but the press is run by a water wheel (made in 1840), the fermentation is in open vats, the yeast is wild, and the rums they make are like no others. Trust me on this.

Basic production stats: cane juice syrup (some cane is from their own estate, some is bought from surrounding farmers), fermented in open topped concrete tanks which are not cleaned out between batches, so a little bit of previous batches carries forward into the next one. Wild (naturally airborne) yeast, eight days or so fermentation, and then it’s run through one or both of the two double retort pot stills (one Vendome, one John Dore), fed by wood-fueled fires underneath each, and the resultant distillate froths and smokes off the still at around 75-80%. As I’ve said, this is dialled down to 69% for the “standard” version that can be taken on flights, but this one is different, being bottled at 75%, or close to still strength.

What results from all this is a rum of real character: anyone who smells this isn’t going to forget it in a hurry. It’s a pungent, potent, pot still putain, hard bitten and hard boiled as a thirties noir gumshoe, with scents to match. It’s rubbery, ester driven, sour and with as much glue as a glossy new fashion magazine hot off the presses. And as if that isn’t enough, you’ll smell plasticine, varnish, turpentine, and then the sour-sweet scent of kimchi, rotting oranges, ripe mangoes, and if you think this is a Jamaican funk bomb detonating in y9our face, well, it’s pretty close. Rivers never bothers to make a fuss over that, simply letting the product speak for itself…and it sure doesn’t speak in quiet modulated tones, but bellows its puissance from the rooftop.

I know this may sound like over the top insanity to smell, but rest assured that the taste is much more approachable, without ever letting go of its slightly off-kilter vibe.It presents some light fruits and sugar, again the sourness of gooseberries and overripe oranges — the part that distinguishes it from the Jamaicans is a certain agricole-style herbaceousness, a sort of green lemongrass and citrus note that combines well with balsamic vinegar and olives and the faintest suggestion of salt. And the finish…wow. Epic, long lasting, green and fragrant, very fruity with pineapples and spearmint and (yes, still here), grass, miso soup, rubber and plastic notes that fortunately are well tamed by this time. Basically, as my burb states — Rivers starts like a bat out of hell and then slows down to one wing short of batsh*t crazy by the end.

At 75% ABV we should not be surprised at the hot and spicy nature of it, yet it carries the weight of that strength without too much of an assault on the senses – I actually think once you get used to it, it’s something of a (slightly masochistic, admittedly) fun and interesting tasting experience. There’s such a joyous irreverence of competing flavours going on inside, it’s so strong and moves so fast, that one can only wonder how so much was stuffed into a standard barroom bottle without it shattering to shards on the spot.

Sure, most people will mix it – with coconut water, a soda, ice or whatever’s on hand (I think it would shine in a daiquiri), yet I submit that perhaps it’s worth trying by itself, just the one time. Because even though, afterwards, you might not remember everything that happens, you’ll know you had a good time while it lasted.

(#1114)(85/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Other notes

St. Lucia Distillers Denros “Strong” Double Strength Rum – Review

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Mar 282025
 

The label of this rum has several variations, but all of them have the word “Strong” in bold red capitals right up front, just to grab the attention, warn the unwary and make sure the timid don’t set fire to themselves with an involuntary flatus. Although when you consider the wannabe beefcake power of 80% ABV, you could reasonably wonder who except a cigar-chomping, glute-flexin’ badass (or brain dead reviewer with access to too many rums and a few screws loose) would even try to drink such a product neat…and for what reason?

In the evolution of very strong rums, there are a few regularly made hooches issued by commercial enterprises (not indie bottlers who often gleefully try to cheer themselves up by torqueing their single cask sh*t to the max) that remain on sale. Such rums tend to be pure or lightly aged column still blends, such as every 151 ever made, the Sunset Very Strong from St Vincent (84.5%), The Rivers Antoine overproof (90% and 75%) that you can’t take off the island of Grenada, Suriname’s Marienburg 90 (90%), Stroh 80 or 160 (Austria, 80%). They provide a lot of bartenders much amusement with ferocious mixes like the B-52 and the Zombie, and remain a staple of the cocktail culture. Few are the brave souls who drink such rums neat.

That’s understandable because very high proofed rums are almost all column still, and much of the taste has been stripped away by the distillation process resulting in that high strength. There is almost no point in trying to do a taste test on one, yet, here we are and here I am.

Nosing it demonstrates the point. Merde but this is serious. It’s strong and very sharp, and I recommend letting it breathe for a while so that the alcohol burns off. Once that’s done subtle flavours timidly start to creep out, as if afraid they’ll be coshed. Cream and strawberries, wet coconut shavings, a touch of brine, metal filings, some medicinal notes, and soft fruits like bananas, white guavas, pears, and a tiny hint of red grapefruit. More should not be expected, really, but it’s pleasing to even get this much from such a high proof rum where more often than not ethanol and turpentine are the core aromas.

The palate takes no prisoners either. It’s less than the nose in all ways, hot, spicy and very intense, yet for all that, there are some flavours one can sense through the heat. Crazily enough this is like lipstick and plasticine and bath soap, some vague bananas and those coconut shavings, but what’s notable is the sheer intensity of it all – this is the sort of rum you can imagine the Expendables quaffing by the tankard after offing a bunch of bad guys. There’s more of that ashy-metallic back taste, and a finish that seems to want nothing more than to last forever and shave the back of the throat with a rusty razor. Sure there’s a bit of fruit and plastic and maybe a pinch of salt, but overall, there’s not much to report on, on the close.

So once I finished my half hour session with it, what do I think of it? Well, admittedly, it’s eye-watering, once I dried out my eyeballs and stuck them back in. My sense of discovery (and humour) usually makes trying such batsh*t crazy rums a sort of masochistic and morbid exercise leading to an excess of long words lifted from my thesaurus, and this was no different. Much like others of its kind, it doesn’t have a whole lot in the kitchen sink it throws at you, but you know what? It’s kind of interesting, if not particularly memorable (except, perhaps, for having survived it).

There are some flavours and scents that make it past the firewall, and with caution and some dilution it could be had and appreciated. But not enough to matter – this is a rum that has to be mixed, or has to be diluted. I don’t often say that, but here, to appreciate it better (within its limits), it’s definitely the only way to go

(#1112)(77/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

  • Video recap link
  • “Denros” is a name created by combining the names of the last two distilleries existing in St. Lucia which merged in 1972 to create St. Lucia Distillers: the Dennery Distillery owned by the Barnard family, and the Roseau Bay Distillery owned by the Geest family. So “Den” + “Ros”, simple enough.
  • According to Difford’s Guide, in an undated post, this rum is implied to be made as far back as the 1930s, by the Dennery Distillery from the date of its establishment in 1932.
  • Although SLD does have pot stills, this is a continuous (column) still product.

SMWS Barbados 1986-2001 15YO “Rockley Still” Rum – Review

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Mar 192025
 

If one were discussing rum, I suppose you could call the SMWS among the first of the modern independent bottlers, alongside Samaroli, Moon Imports, Velier, Rum Nation and Renegade (and not a few whisky companies like Cadenhead, Gordon & MacPhail and AD Rattray). The expense of their bottlings, their relative scarcity – the subscription model discourages casual punters looking for cheap deals on single cask offerings which are never found in stores – the striking bottle appearance, and their amusing numbering system have certainly given them a visual and mental cachet few others can match.

However, my feeling has always been, and remains, that they refuse to accept that there is a serious market for rum if reasonably priced and well made, and having hitched their wagon to whiskies of all kinds, they are loath to change with the times except with an occasional casual nod to the category. Which is a shame, I think, given their resources. I’ve probably bought more than most (and shared them) and find them almost without exception to be quite competent selections.

There are three of their rums, however, which I consider minor grail quests of my own, and those are the Barbados (WIRR, “Rockley Still”), Guyana (Port Mourant) and Jamaica (Monymusk) rums, all released in 2001 — to shareholders only. None of these had a numbering system (R1.x, R2.x etc), the label was all different, and they were never, as far as I am aware, put up for sale to the subscribing public. It has been my extreme good fortune to spend some time with the famed rum blogger Marco Freyer (of Barrel Aged Mind) – and he had all three, of which this was the only one that was opened (I have dibs on samples for the other two when he cracks them). It is my conjecture that these early releases were a toe in the water, which were so unappreciated that it wasn’t in 2011 that serious bottlings began to take place.

So what about this one, then? Well it’s from that famous, if mythical Barbadian “Rockley Still” (follow the link for an extended discussion of what this is), distilled in 1986, finished in a sherry cask, bottled in 2001, column still, 15 years old and clocks in at a hefty 64.4% strength. There have been several such 1986 Rockley editions over the years from bottlers as varied as Berry Bros. & Rudd, Samaroli, Cadenhead, Rendsburger, Secret Treasures, Plantation and Bristol Spirits, but for the purposes of this review, let’s just accept it as a sub-style within the Barbadian canon, rather than a true still descriptor.

Nose first. Well, it’s interesting, for sure. It smells of burnt bell peppers and grilled tomatoes in a sour miso soup, and is quite ferocious, which is understandable given the strength, although somewhat less so given that the ageing should have sanded off some more of the rough edges. Some raisins, dates, plums, and a very light citrus line. It gets stranger, too: after ten minutes, there was a sort of ashy aroma to it, like a cigarette smoked in the rain, and (oddly enough) dark rye bread with a herbal cream cheese. Yeah, I know that’s odd.

Still, the palate was also interesting, and not half bad. Vanilla, cinnamon, and a sort of dusty old library tang started things off, like we were in Hogwarts restricted section or something. It was salty (think marmite), yeasty, bready, fruity — more of the raisins and darker fruits, and though these were quite shy, there was enough depth of flavour here for me to think the word luscious is not entirely inappropriate. Finish was fine, nothing new, some yeasty, sharp and ashy notes, a few fruity bits and pieces, lasting decently long

Overall, it’s a rum that could be issued today without apology or embarrassment. It’s competent work, smells and tastes fine, and is very approachable even with the strength – some water might dial it down for those who want to. The real question is why it was never followed up on – I think that had the SMWS tried to make rums a more regular part of their lineup, earlier, they could have stolen a march on many others who came later and did better.

The SMWS’s attitude on rums remains puzzling. Their customer base is certainly avid – the regularly issued whisky bottlings sell out all the time, and it’s global in spread – but it remains firmly anchored to that area. I have no issues with that except that they could certainly do as good or better with rums, were it not for one issue – the money. When one adds the cost of a bottle to the annual subscription price, then that had better be a rum that is the best of the best to justify what one is asked to shell out. That has rarely been the case. Good yes, no question – except that as good or better is being sold by smaller, nimbler outfits, at more reasonable prices, so what’s the attraction? None, really.

And that’s why, no matter how much I may like this rum, it’s at best a qualified buy, assuming you can ever find it.

(#1112)(85/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Other notes

Distillerie de la Meuse Rhum Ste. Lucie des Antilles (1941)

 3 Responses »
Mar 152025
 

Rumaniacs Review #R-164 | #1111

Everything about this rum is strange. It carries no strength notation. It is from a distillery I have never heard before. And it is from a period of time when we have almost no data at all – not distillery, not the still, not the stock source, its provanance or travels through time, nothing.

As if that isn’t enough, consider this: it is made in France; it claims to be from the Antilles; it has a 1968 Italian tax strip on the top, and the cap itself has a notation that it was bottled in Israel; and, it was bought at auction, stored in Denmark and sampled in Germany. You can understand why it’s just a bit peculiar.

Distillerie de la Meuse, after some searching around, proved to be not some long defunct distillery from the French islands. It is in fact a closed establishment from NW France, in Verdun, from a small village called Baleycourt. All I was able to find is that it was founded in 1926 as “Distillerie de Verdun” and was an all-purpose spirits maker which made brandy, liqueurs and other distilled spirits, and changed its name to Distillerie de la Meuse in 1937. Where the rum inside the bottle came from is anyone’s guess, and what it was doing being bottled in Israel (which, as you may recall, was established in 1948) — and then being imported into Italy twenty years later — is equally a mystery. That’s what happens when you buy a rum at auction where the provenance is so murky.

Colour – dark brown

Strength – unknown

Nose – Kind of unimpressive, quite light, though there are some fruity notes: prunes, apricots, bananas, vanilla and sherry.

Palate – It seems at first blush to be better than the nose, because here the fruitiness blossoms into a palate that genuinely presents an interesting profile…at first. Sweetish plum juice, raspberries, blackberries, prunes, but without any acidic bite. Some alcoholic notes persist, which is fortunate, because after a while, it starts to show its colours as something oversweet. Vanilla, cinnamon, sherry and red wine, dampened down and with a sugar balance that just gets excessive.

Finish – Short and light, with some dark fruit and paper notes, gone quickly.

Thoughts – That it has been adulterated seems beyond question. It’s a bit too sweet and thick, and even if Marco’s hydrometer was in error when it said 15% ABV (it tastes too alcoholic for that to be believable), tasting it side by side with other rums which we knew to be clean, clearly shows it is not a pure product. That said, we know this was a common practise at the time, as rum’s reputation was no better (worse, actually) then than now and for the very good reason that it was often sweetened or spiced up to appeal more widely, like the Italian Fantasias of the 1950s.

Beyond these observations, I genuinely wish we knew more about the rum, but as with all bottles from so long ago (and during a period of war, no less) perhaps it’s enough that we just have had a chance to taste it, be curious and know a little more than we started with.

(#1111 | R-164)(76/100)

Other notes

Minhas Distillery “Corsairs” White Rum (Barbados/Canada) – Review

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Jan 192025
 

On the basis of the label, you could be forgiven for thinking this rum is something of a steal at under Can$25. Proof is rated at 44.9% – unusual for white rums in this country, so that’s good. “Product of Barbados” – nice, sure to excite interest. Clear white – intriguing. Is there hope for us here?

Nope.

This is where details and knowing what to look for, matter. What is the source of the distillate (juice or molasses – best not to assume)? Is it aged or unaged (not an unusual question even for whites), and if aged, how long, where, and in what? Which distillery on Barbados made it? On what kind of still? You see how this all adds up to even more questions, and no answers. We’re not actually given anything that matters, even on the company website, and for sure not on the bottle.

Let me save you some trouble: this information is not publicly available. And it’s entirely possible that it’s a matter of indifference, intentional oversight and/or wilful ignorance (“the masses will buy what we sell regardless”). Because the cynic in me can’t shake the belief that the production info is withheld so as not to draw attention to the fact that the rum is basically crap.

No, really. The mediocrity so proudly displayed here is breathtaking. Consider a three hour tasting, summarized:

I always start with the nose, of course, but there there is hardly one of mention. There’s some sweetness, lots of ethanol fumes, a fart of icing-sugar-dusted pastry, and more paint stripper and plastic than can possibly be healthy. And all of it is contained an mishmash of melded aromas that clash and bite at each other so incessantly that it defeats even a schnozz as agile as my own.

Oh and it doesn’t stop there. Tasting it makes me wonder why they didn’t just bottle pure ethanol and dilute it down to the required strength, because there’s so little on display, that it involves doing nothing, feeling nothing, on the way to nowhere. If it tastes of anything, it’s of vanilla, water mixed with white sugar, alcohol and….well, that’s it. No spices, no fruits, no flowers, pastries, cardboard, wood, nothing. By the time I got to this point I would have been happy with the gangrenous meat profile of a badly made TECA mixed with a lethal dose of paint thinner, but…there was nada. Nichevo. Rien. Nichts.

And a finish? [Insert snort of derision] What finish? Oh you mean the one where some scrawny ethanol note coats the back of your throat like a swamp miasma and stays there pretending to be something? Yeah, there’s that, I suppose.

On the basis of my tasting and testing and some little bit of experience, I can say it’s probably from WIRD – Mount Gay distillate would be more expensive, St. Nicks is too small and doesn’t do bulk, and Richard Seale of Foursquare told me he refused to sell to Minhas because the price they offered was too low. My real fear is that it’s only part Barbados, and judiciously mixed in with some neutral spirit from the Wisconsin distillery Minhas owns. No way to know, really. Also, it’s probably a column still product, and aged very lightly, and then filtered like a boss, which I think is a reasonable conclusion given its blandness – everything resembling character has been stripped away. I can only shake my head.

Rums like this make me despair, for, what hope is there when products so bland can be made, and, worse, be bought? Hebrews 11:1 talks about faith being “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen”. This travesty has neither the substance to excite faith (let alone hope), nor evidence of anything except the desire to make money. The Corsairs white rum belongs to that subclass of cheap tipple which, if you have the slightest interest in drinking decent liquor, should be left where it is, or, in a just world, be poured down the drain.

(#1110)(60/100) ⭐

Other notes

Opinion

This rum is a poster child for why I regard many white rums that dot the rum landscape (and not just in Canada) with such disdain. Look no further than rums like Highwood’s Aged White Caribbean, their Momento Rum, Bayou’s white, the Merchant Shipping Co White, Minhas / Co-Op’s Caribbean White Rum, or, this one. They are all made with such indifference, such cynicism. They makes Bacardi Superior seem like a positively top-of-the-line white in comparison.

Now before you call me an elitist snob who drinks nothing but high end expensive rums, has no truck with the average rummie and who has no handle on the pulse of the budget-conscious working-class proles out there, let me explain. Such rums are, yes, dirt cheap; and they give you the alcohol shot which you can chuck into your mix and reliably get hammered – that’s part of their schtick and selling point. The argument is always made that “we make what sells” but think about it – if you sell only what you make, well, then, of course that’s what’s going to sell…the consumer has no real choice. Anyway, I argue that it’s a race to the bottom that serves no useful purpose even if all you want to do is get loaded on a slim or nonexistent budget (and on occasion, I do so myself, trust me, so yeah, I get it). If that’s all you’re after, why even bother? – getting an even cheaper vodka works just as well.

The problem with these anonymous, androgynous, monotonous and tedious taste-lacking cocktail fodders is that to all intents and purposes they are faux-vodkas — so what’s the point of sullying the reputation of a drink that has such incredible variety and taste profiles with something so indifferent? Especially when you have companies like Carroll’s or Romero out there, who are bending over backward to make decent and unique products, but remain all but unknown.

Moreover, if this is all we can afford – whether we are young and near destitute students or minimum wage worker bees struggling to make rent – well, then our entire conception of what rum is, is damaged and sullied by such stuff, and we turn away, shift to vodkas or spiced rums or whiskies, and never learn until much later that there is an amazing cornucopia of experiences out there which we have denied ourselves.

So, I’m just sayin’…. There’s better out there, white or brown. Go out there and look for it and leave this embarrassment on the shelf to gather dust and traumatize innocent itinerant reviewers, who have to try it so you don’t have to.

Company Bio (from R-0984)

Minhas is a medium-sized liquor conglomerate based on Calgary, and was founded in 1999 by Manjit Minhas and her brother Ravinder. She was 19 at the time, trained in the oil and gas industry as an engineer and had to sell her car to raise finance to buy the brewery, as they were turned down by traditional sources of capital (apparently their father, who since 1993 had run a chain of liquor stores across Alberta, would not or could not provide financing).

The initial purchase was the distillery and brewery in Wisconsin, and the company was first called Mountain Crest Liquors Inc. Its stated mission was to “create recipes and market high quality premium liquor and sell them at a discounted price in Alberta.” This enterprise proved so successful that a brewery in Calgary was bought in 2002 and currently the company consists of the Minhas Micro Brewery in Calgary (it now has distillation apparatus as well), and the brewery, distillery and winery in Wisconsin.

What is key about the company is that they are a full service provider. They have some ninety different brands of beers, spirits, liqueurs and wines, and the company produces brands such as Boxer’s beers, Punjabi rye whiskey, Polo Club Gin, and also does tequila, cider, hard lemonades. More importantly for this review, Minhas acts as a producer of private labels for Canadian and US chains as diverse as “Costco, Trader Joe’s, Walgreens, Aldi’s, Tesco/Fresh & Easy, Kum & Go, Superstore/Loblaws, Liquor Depot/Liquor Barn” (from their website). As a bespoke maker of liquors for third parties, Minhas caters to the middle and low end of the spirits market, and beer remains one of their top sellers, with sales across Canada, most of the USA, and around the world. So far, they have yet to break into the premium market for rums.

Carroll’s Distillery “Cormorant” Black Rum (Canada) – Review

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Jan 172025
 

Today we conclude our quick run through of the rums made by Carroll’s Distillery in New Brunswick, by addressing the “Cormorant” “black” rum. For all that it implies, it’s a medium bodied rum, more dark brown than black, from a pot still, slightly more aged than those rums we have looked at so far, and costing a shade more (Can$36). And while it started out generating indifference, I did warm up to it over time.

As before, Carroll’s uses Crosby Fancy molasses, and a seven day fermentation, after which the wash is run twice through the the pot still, and the resulting distillate aged for a minimum of one year in 200L ex bourbon casks. Caramel colouring is added to darken the colour and add a little extra oomph to the profile. The blend can vary – a current batch in 2024, for example, was made up of half 2YO and half 20 month old rum stocks.

Dark (or as this one is called, “black”) rums are a mixing agent called for by many cocktail recipes, and because his distillery is a new one and this juice is consequently very young, Matthieu Carroll, the owner, doesn’t really have much choice: a cocktail ingredient is what he’s making with the stocks he’s managed to age. That the rum is as decent as it is, is a rebuke to all those Canadian distilleries out there who actively seek the milquetoast, tasteless low ground in an effort to chase the mass market.

Because look at what he’s managed to accomplish here: now the nose starts kind of weak, true, with cola, citrus, and caramel, plus a few hints of vanilla and brown sugar thrown in. Easy to smell, very traditional stuff. It also presents a few heavy fleshy fruits, quite ripe, and a touch of baking spices, hard to make out, and if I was to summarize the nose it would be to say it smells like a rum and coke in a bottle, minus the citrus.

The palate is where there is initially unimpressive. It’s not that the mouthfeel is bad, or that it’s too indistinct, or too weak – although there’s some truth to that, because it starts out that way. When one starts sipping to check it out, there’s seems to be rather little to become enthusiastic about. It has some brine, faint bitter chocolate (very faint), some sweet, a few fruits – peaches, apricots, overripe red apples, red grapes – and it’s all gone almost immediately, poof, before one has time to come properly to grips with it.

Yet as it stands, it develops more legs than it started with, and to me that’s what makes it worth trying. The nose develops and becomes a bit richer, the cinnamon and cola meld better and the fruits become slightly more distinct; molasses, coffee and the bite of citrus also emerge a bit more assertively on the palate; and the finish, while staying the same, lasts a decent amount of time and is tasty as all get out. It reminds me of some of the younger Demerara rums DDL has, if not quite as pungent.

Admittedly, the rum is living room strength and there’s only so much you can squeeze out of such a product. And yep, I had the peace of a weekend and the time to be able to come to grips with it, which is very different from the busy, conversation-filled social situations in which many will try it (and most won’t care anyway – into the mix it goes, without any ceremony, as a rule, and to hell with the snooty reviewers’ tasting notes).

So in a way, it’s a pity that the distribution is so limited, and the output of this micro distillery is (in relative terms) so small – unless ordered in-country (as I did), most people will likely never buy it, or care enough to bother. Yet I maintain that this under-the-radar rum is worth a look — it’s a smidgen better than it seems, and deserves perhaps a few more minutes of one’s time to appreciate to the fullest. So many rums entice you to buy them on the basis of a cool label, a famed distillery, or by maxing the mojo: torqued up strength, puissant congener counts, geriatric ageing, that kind of thing. Here we have a label that has nothing to do with rum and is simply art, from an almost unknown distillery that sports no in-your-face big stats. At first blush the “Cormorant” doesn’t seem to be all that special, but I think that if left to its own devices and allowed to open up, it does give a pretty good account of itself.

(#1108)(84/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Other notes

  • Video Recap is here.
  • The distillery does sell (and mail) rums on its website and for those who want to dip their toes in before going the whole hog, there are small 200ml bottles of each expression available for under ten bucks, which are godsends to penurious reviewers and which I wish more producers could issue.
  • The artwork on the label was a lightly edited photograph, used with permission.

Carroll’s Distillery “Sanderling” Aged Rum (Canada) – Review

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Jan 132025
 

Today we continue our quick run through of another of the rums from Carroll’s Distillery in New Brunswick, by addressing the “Sanderling” lightly aged rum. This rum, now called “Sandpiper” on the website, thought it’s the same rum, essentially shares the production profile of the unaged white rum “Gannet” which we looked at before.

Using Crosby Fancy (or high grade) molasses, and a seven day fermentation, the wash is run through the the pot still, and then a second time on the smaller a reflux still with eight rectification plates, which produces a distillate anywhere between 75-93% ABV. This results in a light distillate, aged for a minimum of one year in ex bourbon casks. As a point of note, each batch of the Sanderling / Sandpiper is from a single barrel.

The “light” in the descriptor above is well chosen: those looking here for Caroni, Longpond or wooden still action had best seek elsewhere, because this isn’t it. Yet in no way is this a fail, because the initial nose is quite pleasant: baking spices, some light sour notes of pickled cabbage, kimchi, overripe fruit, a sort of easy going funkiness if you will. Again, there sure seems to be some ester influence in this one, and that promising beginning is followed up by burnt toast, vanilla, sweet bell peppers, licorice (is this becoming signature scent for Carroll’s? One wonders, precious….). The elements make themselves felt a tad more firmly than the white, because honestly, at first nosing it’s nicely pungent.

There is, however, more of a dropoff when one tastes it. Partly this is the standard strength, partly it’s the youth. The barrel has certainly done its part to tamp things down, of course, and the fortunate thing is that at least it’s not giving you a bitchy scratch on tongue or tonsils. Initial flavours are gently sweet, light and floral, with candy floss and watery sliced pears. With some effort one can tease out watermelon, vanilla and there’s just a hint of tartness – unsweetened yoghurt, laban, a sort of diluted pineapple juice from a tin. And the finish is rather short and thin, repeating a few of the above notes but hardly leaving a mark on either mind or memory.

Basically, here’s a rum where the overall the profile presents as “nice” without being “exceptional”. The palate sinks after the interesting nose subsides — the flavours are there, yes, but don’t pop: they are delicate rather than assertive, and too much time is spent teasing them out. That said, in comparison with some other stuff I’ve seen indifferently tossed off by Canadian distillers, it’s a cut above for sure. And that’s because it takes some of the lesser points of its white predecessor and improves on them, while not entirely succeeding at the ones we’d want in a lightly aged product where (minimally) higher expectations apply.

That may be my own failing though, rather than some intrinsic weakness of the rum itself – and the rum is good for what it is, to mix. Yet, curiously and encouragingly, the Sanderling demonstrates something I’ve always maintained real hope truly is: it’s not only and just about relationships and desire, but a positive feeling of life’s amazing possibilities. Here, the possibilities remain discernible, tantalizingly sensed — just out on the horizon for now.

(#1108)(83/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Other notes

  • Video Recap is here.
  • The distillery does sell (and mail) rums on its website and for those who want to dip their toes in before going the whole hog, there are small 200ml bottles of each expression available for under ten bucks, which are godsends to penurious reviewers and which I wish more producers could issue.
  • The artwork on the label was produced by David Sheirer, an artist from Maryland in the US, who did this on commission

Carroll’s Distillery “Gannet” Unaged White Rum (Canada) – Review

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Jan 112025
 

Well, here we are again, continuing with the lineup of the Carroll’s Distillery rums, which I bought all at once some six months or so ago. The next reviews will all be about this one outfit’s stable, so I’ll push them out fast.

Now, if you recall, this is a small New Brunswick-based micro distillery owned by Matthieu Carroll, and he founded it as a sort of hobby project back in 2016, got serious in 2018, then sourced a 500L hybrid pot still and registered it as a commercial distillery in 2019 — he went full bore into retail a year later. Even within Canada it is not very well known, probably because it sells mostly in its region (the Maritimes out east) and reviews remain as thin on the ground as a sense of irony in Toronto.

Anyway, so far, we have only looked at the RHE High Ester white, which may be unique in the Canadian rumscape by being both a high ester badass, and a gallumping 65% overproof that makes sphincters clench just by inhaling it. The rum we’re looking at today is another white, much tamer, though it isn’t called a rum – it’s referred to as a “spirit derived from sugarcane products” since Canada also has an archaic rum rule similar to the one that plagues the Australians – one year’s ageing in oak is the minimum requirement to be called a rum, and this one remains unaged.

Using Crosby Fancy (or high grade) molasses, and a seven day fermentation, the wash is run through the the pot still, and then a second time on the smaller a reflux still with eight rectification plates, which produces a distillate anywhere between 75-93% ABV. Although in the beginning the white rum used almost neutral spirit from the reflux as a component, nowadays that’s no longer made and the rum is mostly comprised of an output from the second still that’s configured to leave in more flavour compounds rather than strip them away. There’s no ageing, and it is diluted down to a more approachable 40% living room strength.

Well, that’s kind of a lot to be reading when all you want is tasting notes, so let’s dive in. Nose first. At 40% it’s very easy to inhale, with minimal sharpness or bite – it smells, at first blush, of vanilla, sugar water, some licorice, salt, sweetish sauerkraut, pineapple, pears, green apples, and some fruits starting to go off. It’s likely that there’s some of the RHE in here (the rum is a blend), because those crisp, tart, and sweetish elements point to a higher than usual congener content. If not, it’s actually a pretty nifty aroma, I think.

It’s unsurprising that the taste falls off somewhat from there. Some of what is smelled comes over when one sips it, but 40% is what it is, and this is why I’m tasting it first thing in the morning, when all senses are screaming for input. The mouthfeel is thin, thought it remains reasonably soft, and much of the tartly sour crispness of the nose is AWOL here. That said, one can sense overripe pineapples, spearmint gum, a spicy vegetable soup, sugar water and a briny note that channels some red Moroccan olives. With some concentration, perhaps bananas and very ripe, sweet peaches, leading to a short, easy, light finish that’s mostly sugar water and freshly sliced cucumbers, pears, and maybe a flirt of red licorice.

So on balance, what do I think? Well, I believe it’s something of a poor man’s ester-intro, for starters – lighter and easier and more approachable than the raging codpiece of the RHE. Moreover, it scores about the same, maybe a smidgen less, because it isn’t as feral a product (which is a double edged sword, admittedly) and the overwhelming red licorice tastes have been muted and dialled down into a rum that’s much more balanced. On the other hand, it remains a bit too weak for my personal tastes (your mileage will, of course, vary).

For Canadians, or anyone else who can find it or buy it, it’s a rum well worth getting — not just because it’s really quite affordable (and it is – I mean, Can$25?? — that’s not bad at all), but because it shows that the anonymous white dronish nonsense masquerading as rum which far too many supermarket shelves carry with such innocently ignorant pride, is not the only thing we make around here. If we can start to filter out the graceless bland dreck that we buy far too often, and patronise not just better rums but local distilleries, then there is real hope for the Canadian rum industry. This rum is one of those that shows the potential.

(#1107)(83/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

  • Video Recap is here.
  • The distillery does sell (and mail) rums on its website and for those who want to dip their toes in before going the whole hog, there are small 200ml bottles of each expression available for under ten bucks, which are godsends to penurious reviewers and which I wish more producers could issue.
  • The name “Gannet” for the rum and the bird shown on the label refers to the Northern Gannet, and was chosen by Matthieu because of its association (for him) with the beach and summertime in the Maritimes, which is what he feels is the best time to imbibe this rum.
  • The artwork was produced by Liz Clayton Fuller, an artist from Nashville Tennessee, on commission.
  • My friend Reuben out of Toronto reviewed an earlier version of the rum back in 2021

Helios Distillery “Teeda” White Japanese Rum – Review

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Jan 092025
 

“Teeda” is a Japanese word meaning “sunshine”, which is a nice name considering that the distillery in Japan that makes it is called “Helios”. We have looked at several of Helios’s rums before this – the unaged Kiyomi white, the blended gold rum, the 5YO rum, and of course the pricey but very good 21 YO I just did a video review for last week. It is unusual that they have nothing in the midrange between 6 and 20 years of age, like most other distillers, but maybe they’re just laying down stocks, and the 21YO was something of an outlier.

The Okinawan Helios Distillery has been in the business since 1961 – it is supposedly the oldest such distillery in the country. Then, it was called Taiyou, and made cheap rum blends from sugar cane, both to sell to the occupying American forces, and to save rice for food and sake production. They are probably better known in Japan for their awamoris, shochus and beers, but for our purposes, it’s the rums that excite attention.

This one is a white issued at 40%, and is made from condensed sugar cane juice (the label refers to it as kokuto, or unrefined sugar, which is akin to panela in Mexico, or jaggery in India) – this is also used to make shochus in Japan 1, and it’s hardly surprising that Okinawans would also use it to make this distilled spirit. It’s run through a pot still and aged a little, although I can’t find any indication how long – let’s assume about a year for now, and you’ll permit me a private muttering grumble about how I still have to trawl around too much for this rather minimal information.

That out of the way, let’s get right to it. The nose is all dusty paper, cardboard, peeling wallpaper, with a strong scent of rotting potatoes after you peel them. This is not entirely bad, but one has to admit, it’s unusual. Fortunately, there’s also vegetable soup with extra beef broth and a pimento or two, which then gradually dissolves into scents of sweet soya sauce and figs, dates and fleshy fruits. This is all then balanced off with some citrus that cuts the strong scents that precede it. It is quite a lively nose for something at living room strength…though it must be said, this sucker will take some getting used to.

Tasting it makes for a better experience, much better – the rum turns a little sweet, with fewer potatoes (although the scent and taste persist). Again, you can taste sweet soya, vanilla, smoke, celery, prunes, figs and some lemongrass-infused soup, and yes, that pimento is still there. It all leads to a comfortable finish which sums things up with some soup, salt, celery and prunes, not a lot else.

I can’t entirely rid myself of the feeling that the tum (like the 21YO) used some koji mould to start the fermentation, as well as yeast. There’s a meatiness in some Japanese rums (my traumatic encounter with Seven Seas attests to the peculiarity of the profile) which points in this direction, and while the overall quality can’t be denied, it is something of a connoisseur’s rum – and I mean that not to be snobby, but to illustrate that if you have had a ton of rums and are looking for something unique, this one comes close.

But if you’re only now starting out, then it’s probably best to skip it for now. Because that nose and taste, so peculiar and unique, those are simultaneously sleek and buggy in the details, like a software update rushed out too quick. In short, be careful with it.

(#1106)(81/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

Camikara 3 YO Cane Juice Rum (India) – Review

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Jan 022025
 

Today I’ll dispense with the third rum in the Camikara line of rums from the Indian company of Piccadily Distillers (their true name is Piccadily Agro Industries Ltd), who also make the very good 12YO, and a rather more middling 8YO that I was less than enthusiastic about. These are all rums that are of relatively recent conception, with the line first introduced in December 2022 (in a splashy extravaganza at the Hyatt Regency in Haryana that gave the Tasting of the Century Hampden launch in 2018 a run for its money), utilizing stocks that had been laid down for the company’s blended rums.

Camikara entered the premium rum space after seeing the potential of premium whiskies (their Indri and Whistler brands had been on the drawing board for far longer, and were launched in the early 2020s), and sought to leverage their license to make alcohol from cane juice into a rum from that source, a first in India at the time. The wash is double distilled using large pot stills in their main facility in Haryana (in the Punjab), and the final distillate aged in ex-bourbon barrels for the requisite period (the production process is covered in more detail in the 8YO review).

The 3YO is made the same way as the other two older rums in the portfolio, issued at 42.8%, and one expects that for a rum this young, the cane juice nature of the distillate would be quite evident, in a way that the ageing has taken out of the older bottlings which are somewhat more barrel-influenced. Certainly the nose suggests this, because it is quite pungent at first nosing – very tawny, and almost sharp to smell. It noses of sweet grain cereals (think honey nut Cheerios), honey, brine, and is quite astringent, almost sharp. There’s also some of the youth evident here – turpentine, fresh paint, both fortunately mild. Yet at the same time it feels raw and a little uncouth, with few of the herbaceous grassy notes I would expect to at least get a hint of. There are some scents of melons and papaya, cardamom and vanilla, yes — but one has to strain too hard to get any of that

And if the nose was indeterminate, the palate is a disappointment through and through, and goes downhill from there. Thin and flat is the best I can express it, with a scratchy mouthfeel. The tastes are there if one really concentrates, but even the 8YO’s profile exceeds it — and that was no great shakes as you may recall. Some cumin, rice pudding, vanilla, cardamom and brown sugar, a touch of leather and smoky red paprika, but really, haven’t we seen all this before, done better? The finish does the rum no favours either, and just sort of trickles away like a Cheshire Cat’s grin, leaving noting behind but vague memories and the feeling of a target aimed at, and missed.

In fine, even for a three year old there’s just too little here to excite the senses or tickle the tonsils, and it underwhelms at best. I’m sure it was released as a mixing rum and therefore expectations should be tempered with that in mind, yet as the New Brits and Australians have shown us, young rums can be made well, and need not take the low road this one careens down.

(#1105)(75/100) ⭐⭐½

Other notes

  • Video Recap is here.
  • Because the rum is a consistent and ongoing blend, it lacks a year of distillation and bottling.
  • Once again, my deepest appreciation to Nikkhil of WhiskyFlu for the sample.

Company Bio (from R-1104)

The company that ended up calling itself Piccadilly had its origins in 1953 when the founder , Mr. K.N. Sharma began a liquor distribution company called Kedar Nath & Sons in Doraha in the Punjab in the Nort West of India. The company expanded rapidly – it was formally registered nin 1967, by which time it had a near monopoly on all liquor contracts in the state. Further growth occurred with the establishment of a restaurant and bar (the “Picadili”) in the late 1960s, movie theatres in 1972, and a Piccadily Hotel in 1975, which led to further investments in the hospitality business in other cities in the Punjab and Himachal Pradesh in the 1970s and 1980s. In 1993 the company expanded yet again with the purchase of a sugar mill and distillery in Patiala, and a second one in Haryana a year later, making it a full fledged alcohol producer.

Although rum had been made in one form or another for centuries in India, all of it came from molasses or from jaggery – the company decided to buck the trend by getting a license to make alcohol from sugar cane juice in 2008 and by 2009 had started production of alcohol from this source. I have no records that say what their brand was at this time – maybe they just made neutral alcohol to mix into their locally sold whiskies (a common practise) In 2010, however, they commissioned a third distillery specifically to make premium whisky, rather than the bulk malt they had been making up to this point for supply to other liquor manufacturers all over the country. This new distillery opened in 2012, which, more than a decade later, has made Piccadily the largest independent malt manufacturer and seller of malt spirits in India, producing three brands and four million liters annually. Today, as well as across India, it sells to Europe and the United States, and has invested in a project in Scotland, where it also intends to build a distillery.

The 2020s was where it all finally came together, with the Whistler and Indi brands launching in 2020 and 2021 respectively, and Camikara being introduced in 2022, all with an international focus. The Camikara trio have won several medals in spirits competitions like the ISWC and Rum and Cachaca Masters since then, most recently 2024.

The family has also become a very powerful one, with the second generation involved in commercial and political activities (not always positively) – however, since this is outside the scope of the review, I will pass on it for now.

Camikara 8 YO Cane Juice Rum (India) – Review

 4 Responses »
Dec 312024
 

Camikara (“Liquid Gold” in Sanskrit) is a brand of rum from the Indian company of Piccadily Distillers (their true name is Piccadily Agro Industries Ltd), who are better known for their whiskies until a year or two ago, when they introduced the very interesting 12YO cane juice rum we’ve looked at before. That rum was a cane juice product (supposedly Piccadily are the only ones in India doing this), and had two younger siblings that were also cane juice based, a 3YO and and 8YO, the latter of which we are discussing today.

As with the 12YO, Piccadily Distillers made this rum in Haryana, a northern Indian state – it abuts the Punjab, and is just due south of Solan, where Mohan Meakin started things going back in the 1800s. Piccadily themselves are better known, especially in India, for their malt whiskies Indri and Whistler and one imagines they went into premium rum space after seeing the strides made in upscale whiskies and observing the lack of rum equivalents — the increasing premiumisation of the spirit in the West suggests an opportunity to break into that market with an unusual product from a near-unknown location.

The cane is harvested and then crushed within two days, and the juice chucked into the fermenters with water and cultured yeast for 24-48 hours, resulting in a wash that’s about 7% ABV, which then gets run through the large pot stills (which are also used for whisky production). Initially there is a wash distillation that results in a first low-wines distillate of about 17%, which is then run through the spirit distillation with the heads and tails, that gives a final distillate of around 66% – it is this which is then set to age in ex-bourbon casks for the desired period. The final product is then blended from various ages (the age statement reflects the youngest part of the blend) and bottled at the Indian standard strength of 42.8%.

A rum it certainly is. Whether succeeds is another question, because when nosing it, it presents as surprisingly mild. One can smell honey, peaches, acetones and nail polish remover, with additional notes of wax, vanilla and cardamom. It smells oddly and heavily sweet, which I find puzzling for a supposedly unadulterated rum that is made from juice – it lacks some of the crisp clarity of a French island agricole, even those that have been aged. There are some vague hints of citrus and raspberries, but overall, not a whole lot to write home about and put one the ‘must-have’ list

The palate continues in this vein. Although still tasting somewhat sweet, it’s less than the nose suggested it would be, and there’s a dry brininess here which is interesting. Honey, syrup, overripe pineapples and ritten grapes, plus some vanilla, cinnamon and cardamom. That’s about all I can pick up even after a couple of hours — it presents as too simple for real appreciation and the quick finish is rather dry and sharp, which lessens the experience as well, though the mild fruitiness and citrus to help alleviate what would otherwise be a truly substandard rum.

Overall it’s a rum, just not one to get seriously excited about. I’m not sure whether this was made to be a poor man’s sipper or a more upscale mixer, but for my money it doesn’t really work as well as it should. One expects more from an eight year old rum, especially one matured in ex-bourbon barrels in a warm climate (which is bugled as a selling point). Overall it’s nowhere close to its 12 YO upscale sibling, and while pleasant enough, there’s an air of “good enough” about it that suggests the love was given to the older version and this one was made for the mass market’s lower expectations (and price point). Not one I’d buy if there were other options, and in comparison to true agricoles, well, unfortunately it’s not playing in the same ballpark yet.

(#1104)(80/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

  • Video Recap is here.
  • Because the rum is a consistent and ongoing blend, it lacks a year of distillation and bottling.
  • My deepest appreciation to Nikkhil of WhiskyFlu for the sample.

Company Bio (summary)

The company that ended up calling itself Piccadilly had its origins in 1953 when the founder , Mr. K.N. Sharma began a liquor distribution company called Kedar Nath & Sons in Doraha in the Punjab in the Nort West of India. The company expanded rapidly – it was formally registered nin 1967, by which time it had a near monopoly on all liquor contracts in the state. Further growth occurred with the establishment of a restaurant and bar (the “Picadili”) in the late 1960s, movie theatres in 1972, and a Piccadily Hotel in 1975, which led to further investments in the hospitality business in other cities in the Punjab and Himachal Pradesh in the 1970s and 1980s. In 1993 the company expanded yet again with the purchase of a sugar mill and distillery in Patiala, and a second one in Haryana a year later, making it a full fledged alcohol producer.

Although rum had been made in one form or another for centuries in India, all of it came from molasses or from jaggery – the company decided to buck the trend by getting a license to make alcohol from sugar cane juice in 2008 and by 2009 had started production of alcohol from this source. I have no records that say what their brand was at this time – maybe they just made neutral alcohol to mix into their locally sold whiskies (a common practise) In 2010, however, they commissioned a third distillery specifically to make premium whisky, rather than the bulk malt they had been making up to this point for supply to other liquor manufacturers all over the country. This new distillery opened in 2012, which, more than a decade later, has made Piccadily the largest independent malt manufacturer and seller of malt spirits in India, producing three brands and four million liters annually. Today, as well as across India, it sells to Europe and the United States, and has invested in a project in Scotland, where it also intends to build a distillery.

The 2020s was where it all finally came together, with the Whistler and Indi brands launching in 2020 and 2021 respectively, and Camikara being introduced in 2022, all with an international focus. The Camikara trio have won several medals in spirits competitions like the ISWC and Rum and Cachaca Masters since then, most recently 2024.

The family has also become a very powerful one, with the second generation involved in commercial and political activities (not always positively) – however, since this is outside the scope of the review, I will pass on it for now.

Nil Desperandum “The Road North” Australian Rum (2023 Edition) – Review

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Dec 302024
 

“Nil Desperandum” is a Latin phrase hearkening back to Horace’s Odes that channels some of my old classical studies back in the day – it means (literally) “Nothing to despair of” or “Do not despair” – or, in more colloquial terms, no worries, mate, which might just as easily be the entire country’s motto. It is, of course, the sign that was hung over the bar in the original pub of the same name in Woombye from which the company got its name, which is a nice bit of historical trivia.

Obscure humour and references aside, let’s just observe that Nil Desperandum is part of a parent company named CAVU Distilling Pty, who also have Sunshine & Sons and 4PM Spirits under their umbrella. CAVU — the term is an aeronautical one meaning Ceiling and Visibility Unlimited — was founded in 2019 just north of Brisbane with a pair of pot stills by Matt Hobson and Michael Conrad and is certified as an Organic Distillery. Further, they also provide third party concept to consumer brand creation, distilling and manufacturing. Sort of an all-in-one one-stop shop, so to speak.

The production process for “The Road North” is quite interesting: it comes from molasses sourced from three different certified organic farms in Bundaberg, to which some indigenous yeast was added, as well as dunder (the by-product from the first distillation run) and muck (dunder that has been aged in the rainforest). In the second batch that produced “The Road North” rum, fermentation was ten days, before double distillation in the two pot stills: Maria” a 6,000-litre wash still 2 and “Sarah” a 2500-litre spirit still 3; at that point it was decanted into two French oak barrels emptied of pinot noir and sherry, at 60.4%. To round out the matter, no sweeteners or colour were added, and only one barrel has been emptied – the other one is squirrelled away for another time – providing subsciption-based in-house “1871 club” members (and the advent calendar) with 131 bottles.

This is quite a wall of text, so let’s head straight into the tasting without further ado.

Nose first. It reeks of honey, white chocolates and almonds (and I mean that in a nice way), and behind that are some dusty book pages and old peeling wallpaper. This then develops into something more akin to a bakery: pastries, cheesecake and key lime pie, with notes of lemon zest to liven things up a bit. Everything else pretty much comes out of the woodwork at that point: sweet corn, a touch of caramel and vanilla, and even some rubber and plasticine, which, in a peculiar inversion, emerge after most of the nose has been snooted, not at the inception (which is more usually the case).

The palate is really quite good as well: smooth and warm in spite of the strength. Caramel, vanilla, cinnamon and cardamom continue to be the backbone here, with some hints of biscuits and wafers, white chocolate and crushed almonds again. Here, the fruits take something of a back seat and their presence is more muted, though we do sense stewed apples, red grapes, pears and very ripe mangoes, plus some warm bananas and toffee, sweet balsamic fig-infused vinegar, and even some cooking molasses and sherry. Finish lasts a good long time and sums up most of the preceding very nicely, with noting new to confuse the unwary. Fruits, pastries, zest and spices, pretty much.

Overall, this is quite a good, rough and ready rum, with surprisingly few rough edges (there are some – just not enough to derail the tasting in any way). I particularly like the way that the various flavours complement each other on both nose and palate, and there’s sufficient complexity married to power, to provide for a damned fine drinking experience. It’s comparable with Killik’s pure pot still rum, or Capricorn’s Dumpster Diver, yet stands clearly by itself.

The only real issue I have with it is the price — AUS$250 on the website. That’s a lot, for something less than five years old (and indeed, the age is never mentioned, though if the distillery opened in 2019 and this is a 2023 edition…you can do the math). Even assuming an iso container can make its way over to where us proles live and economies of scale bring the price down, it remains a hefty price tag, and without a serious Name or brand behind it to lend some street cred, it is likely to sell slowly.

However, price aside, it is my considered opinion that this is one of those really good Aussie rums that everyone who can should try at least once, just to see how good Australian rums have become in such a short time. One can only imagine what the industry will be like and what sort of quality we will experience, in another ten years. Perhaps the 2024 advent calendar will help us find out, but for now, this is one rum that shouldn’t be missed, if it can be found, and afforded.

(#1103)(85/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Other notes

  • Video Recap is here.
  • From Day 24 of the 2023 Australian Advent Calendar
  • I particularly like the insouciant naming of the special bottlings in which Nil Desperandum indulges itself: names like 44 Special, Double Dunder, Double Ton, The Fat ladies, First Four, Pineapple Train, The Muck Redux, The Wild Muck and Roasted Cane (among others) always make me smile.
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