Mar 302013
 

 

Like an elderly doddering relative, it requires a little coaxing and care to be appreciated fully

(#141. 71/100)

***

Quite aside from my laughter (and that of everyone else at the KWM tasting where it was trotted out) at the box in which the RN Martinique Anniversary Edition Rhum Agricole 12 year old reposed, the single emotion gripping me as I tasted it was respect. Respect for its bottle, the box, the rum and above all, it’s primal excellence. Here’s a rum that takes the run of the mill agricoles we are all so much more used to, and equals or tops them without tekkin’ any kinda strain or bustin’ a sweat.

The enclosure was really quite original: a hollowed out cardboard box shaped like a book in which to hide it, which tickled my son pink but was too cheaply made to do anything but annoy the wife, who, while grudgingly accepting my constant purchases of rum, would prefer that if I dropped just over a hundred bucks on one, that it at least looked like it cost it. Fortunately, as I drew the gold-tipped cork-hatted flagon out of the book, her annoyance disappeared and she was at least impressed with its elegant shape and deep red-brown colour. Well, it’s a small win, what can I say. I take what I can get.

Made from Martinique stock – the column-still product was aged and bottled to a run  of 5000 bottles there – this rum was issued in 2010 to mark the 10th anniversary of the company, which began issuing its series back in 2000. I’d have to say that while I enjoyed the less expensive Hors d’Age quite a bit, the Anniversary edition took matters up a level. The warm and heated nose was simply awesome: nutty, sweet, dark chocolate notes were balanced out by caramel, creamy vanilla, and tempered by white flowers, an earthy tone of slight smoke and leather…tawny is the best single word I can come up with to describe it. As it settled down and trusted me enough to open up, it mellowed into deep brown sugar, with toasted pecans, and some citrus hints. There was a cleanliness, a spareness to it, that took me back many years and recalled the piping-hot, fresh, teeth-blackening Red Rose tea sweetened with melting brown sugar, of the sort I used to drink at six in the morning in the misty Guyanese jungle with dim morning sunlight filtering through the forest.

Agricoles as a whole trend towards slightly sharper, lighter bodies with real complexity if one is prepared to be patient and not guzzle them down. Since I had the Guitar Yoda passing on Jedi secrets to my son the day I was trying it, I indulged myself in desultory conversation with his better half, of the sort one can only have with old friends, while sipping this lovely rum for over an hour. And it was easy, because the Anniversary really was a top-notch sipper. Smoothly spicy, medium-to-light bodied and surprisingly dark in temperament, tasting candy sweet and heated all at once, with musty tobacco and oatmeal freshly made. Tangerines, red wine, nuts and honey came to the fore and then gracefully retreated, to be replace with a sere and dry (but far from unpleasant) winey note. As for the finish, it was long and warm with a last sly spicy backhand, as if trying to remind me not to take it for granted. A really excellent all round product, believe me. Yeah it’s a bit pricey ($125 in my location)…I think it’s worth it if you’re in the market for a very good agricole and the Central Americans or Island nations don’t turn your crank, or you would like to try more than just another well-known commercial product.

After trying quite a few of the company’s rums (I still have another two or three to get through), I’ve come to the conclusion that the quality of what Fabio Rossi of Rum Nation achieves lies in his diamond-focussed professionalism, to the exclusion of all drama and flourish: the man has never made a rum that’s “merely average”. It’s as if he asked himself, with each rum that he has produced, ‘What is the essence of this product?’… and then, in answering that question, proceeded single mindedly to make a rum about absolutely nothing else.

***

A:8/10 N:18/25 T:18/25 F:16/25 I:11/15 TOT: 71/100

Note: This spirit carries the AOC mark of authenticity. Martinique is the only rum region designated as an Appellation d’Origine Contrôllée. This entails, as it does in France’s Cognac-making region, rigorous guidelines for harvesting, fermenting, and distillation.

 

 Posted by on March 30, 2013 at 9:32 am
Mar 302013
 

 

All round excellent younger agricole from the House of Fabio.

(#140. 67/100)

***

Rum Nation’s agricole rum from Martinique, the Hors D’age, is not quite as sublime as the other products of the company about which I have so enthusiastically written, but this should not dissuade anyone who enjoys the French island rums from trying it, since the overall quality is quietly impressive. I tasted this in conjunction with the Karukera Millesime 15 year old which I knew was a damned good rum, and if the RN didn’t quite come up to snuff with respect to its more aged competitor, it careened across the finish line a very close second…quite something, for a rum that’s not half as old (hors d’age is an appellation which means ageing is between 3-6 years, and this rum adhered to all the AOC guidelines to be termed a rhum agricole from Martinique).

There is a presentational ethic which is almost spartan about the less expensive RN offerings; this one was a standard barroom bottle ensconced in a cheap windowed cardboard box that showed the label through the plastic. The cork was cork (plastic tipped), the label was simple and with minimal information, and overall, for its price of about $60, I wasn’t expecting more.  Essentially, this has the look of a rum you can lose in a bar, which is pretty good since ostentation at this level is looked down upon…bad form you know, old man.

As with all RN’s products I’ve had so far, it’s a cut above the merely pedestrian. It decanted into my glass in an amber gurgle of deep evening sunlight, and gave off intriguing wafts of solid fruity tones even before I started really assessing the nose: strawberries, orange marmalade, and a teasing hint of licorice. Was that coffee grounds in the background? Sure hoped it was. And there was a faint wine hint, as vaporous as the Cheshire Cat’s grin, lurking in the shade there someplace (and here I’d like to point out that this was worlds removed from the overwhelming wine hammer of Thor with which Downslope Distilling’s six month aged rum battered me).

The Hors D’Age is a welterweight among rums…medium to light but remarkably solid body, providing a hefty heated punch, as if to prove that the 43% ABV wasn’t ever really gonna love me. For a nose that had been softly redolent of my father-in-law’s orchard, I was quite surprised at the briny driness of this offering. Surprise over, after it condescended to open up, it mellowed into a deeper cane spirit, releasing a pretty intriguing melange of coffee, peaches…and the savage sweet taste of burnt sugar cane peeled with your teeth and then sucked dry (ask any Guyanese what that’s all about). The subtle wine taste persisted, just not enough to be annoying or intrusive, and at the last, I was pleased to note a sort of segue into buttery, non-sweet white chocolate. Like I said…intriguing rum. As for the finish, it was long, warm and sere, closing up shop with the sharper accents of a cafe latte, almonds, and a clear herbal spirit fade that was characteristic of almost every agricole I’ve ever tasted.

Let me confess that while I like agricoles and appreciate – nay, respect – well made ones, overall they will never be rums I love with great, overwhelming, operatic passion. However complex, the profile is usually a shade too thin, too hard, too clear for my personal tastes — like a snooty French waiter who truly despises my lack of couth. As it was, this Hors D’Age ran a very close second to the Karukera (while the 12 year old Rum Nation Martinique Anniversary and the Clemente XO were better than both). I ran back and forth among my agricoles, and finally came to the conclusion that it was the longer ageing of the Karukera (15 years), and a better, smoother, tastier finish  that spelled the difference.

But you know, that’s all semantics. If you receive the rum on its own frequency, it’s as good as a moveable feast, really; yes, of course it could have been older, smoother, better – though at that point it would not have been this rum, or even (perhaps) a better one.  For the money, it’s a good deal, a good rum, plain and simple. And I have to be honest too – if RN can produce an agricole this good in less than six years, it seems churlish of me to degrade a rum that many others couldn’t have made at all.

 

A:5/10 N:19/25 T:17/25 F:16/25 I:10/15 TOT: 67/100

 

 Posted by on March 30, 2013 at 9:23 am
Mar 242013
 

CLEMENT XO Rhum Vieux

First posted 30 June 2010 on Liquorature. #028

A superlative agricole with good body, marvellous complexity and a really strong, spicy fade; yet not as sweet as some rums drinkers might like.  I’m not entirely won over by it, but concede the excellence of its make without hesitation.

***

Abandoned by all the ladies in my family for the afternoon, tasked with making sure my two boys didn’t get into a fight over the Wii, I whiled away the hours by taking an appreciative sniff, slurp and swallow of this expensive rhum agricole from Martinique. At ~$120 from Willow Park, I had to think a bit about it, but the truth was that the Barbancourt had piqued my curiosity about agricole rhums, which are made from cane juice rather than molasses, and seem to be a characteristic of French Caribbean islands. In competition for my dinero had been a rum from India, which I decided to decline, an English Harbour 10 yr old I really agonized over, and one from Barbados, the Dooley’s, which I bought, and which I’ll save for a bit.

This rum may actually be the very thing Keenan likes: cheap cardboard packaging and an intriguingly different bottle shape, a foil-lined cork, gold leaf lettering, and a light honey-bronze liquid swirling invitingly within: in other words, some style, but not so much as to suggests excessive add-on cost. It is the top of the line of the Clemente estate on Martinique, founded by Homere Clemente in 1887. It bears the appellation AOC – Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée – just as for fine wine, the AOC guarantees that rhum agricole will have all the characteristics associated with its particular terroir (area of make). In order to use the designation rhum vieux, the liquor must spend a minimum of three years in oak casks. Aged between four and six years, it is called hors d’âge; after more than six years it can be called VSOP; older than that it becomes XO. Sometimes there’s also a vintage year. In this case, the blend is of three reputedly exceptional years’ production: 1952, 1970 and 1976.

I may be getting better at this, or maybe I just had tasted enough rums by now to get a sense of what to look for. At 44% ABV, I certainly got that: a nose of some sharpness (the 47% Kraken was the same), but care had been taken to tone down that spirity aroma for which I had so marked the Kraken down. Toffee.  A slight woodsy backdrop. Smokey, the slightest bit.  And oh, that burnt sugar taste that was so exactly like the aftersmell of burning canefields at harvest time in Guyana, that it was like I never left (canefields are usually burned before cutting: it removes the undergrowth, kills insects and concentrates the sucrose in the cane). The golden liquid has some density and oiliness — it clung top the sides of the glass like honey, only reluctantly sliding slowly back down on fat slow legs.

The taste enhances what the nose promised: a solid, complex feel on the tongue, but not syrupy sweet, a common characteristic of agricole rums. It’s like a good cognac, slightly dry, not marred by excessive sugar. It was a bit like a decent scotch (the Hippie will have to pronounce judgement here), and the flavours were pronounced and distinct:  tannins, smoke, light fruit surrounding a solid core of burnt sugar. A slight note of cinnamon. It’s hot on the palate as well, but the finish, if one can take it, is long and sensuous, and burns, but all the way down, leaving a taste of caramelized sugar lingering in the the throat.  I don’t think this will be for everyone.  For those who like their cheaper tipple to mix, I would not recommend this. Whisky drinkers should go ape for it.

Agricole – or agricultural (made from cane juice), to distinguish them from industrial (molasses-based) –  rums are made to exacting standards (they would not have the AOC rating otherwise), and here I’ll have to say that if the Barbancourt and this Clement are representative of the class, then, even with the quality I’ve described, I’m afraid thus far it’s not my thing. They are not sweet enough, as I’ve noted more than once. The maturation in oak imparts some of that sharpness and tannins to the taste which I’ve never really gotten to enjoy with the passion others do. And that damned burn, so remniscent of whisky. But honesty forces me to concede the quality of other components of this rum: mouthfeel, nose, viscocity and density, and the complexity of the flavours just out of my capacity to separate, blending into a fascinating whole.

I don’t think the money was a waste, as nothing that adds to my knowledge and education can be: but I doubt I’ll buy another one of these premium agricole sippers, and after the taste and the thinking and the writing, what I’m really left with is the memories of being ten years old, and, fresh off the plane from Africa, watching the canefields burn, smoke rising from one horizon to the next, the dusk lit with the red glow of dying fires, and the smoke and sugar scent heavy and redolent on the tropical night air.

 Posted by on March 24, 2013 at 6:17 pm