Ruminsky

Goslings Family Reserve Old Rum (Bermuda) – Review

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Sep 292025
 

In the current lineup from Goslings, the Bermuda-based blenders and bottlers (as far as I know they are not distilling rums), there are four different quasi-premium products: the “Spirited Seas” 44% ABV rum which is partially matured on the high seas, the “Papa Seal” single barrel aged rum at 41.5%, and two variations of the “Family Reserve Old Rum” at 40%, one of which we will look at today.

In the last century or before it may really have been the practise for estates and distilleries – many owned privately – to hold back some exceptional barrels to bottle for the lords of the manor and their families, or members of the upper management.  Such “reserved” stocks, often older than the norm, were gradually commercialized, and released with titles like Chairman’s Reserve, Family Reserve, Private Stock, President’s Choice, or whatever, meant to capitalize on their unique, limited, elevated nature. They are, of course, meant to be premium rums, and priced accordingly, and if we proles could afford a bottle, then we could sip – vicariously, to be sure – at the tables of the upper crust and consider ourselves grateful (or so the theory goes).

The Gosling’s Family Reserve Old Rum, first brought to market in the very early 2000s (I’ve heard 2003, or 2005), is one of these. Subject to my opinion below, let’s accept (for now) that it’s a molasses-based pot-column blend, aged for sixteen to nineteen years, released at 40% and costing around Can$70-100, when it can be found. 

Considering the nose showcases some of its weaknesses to a modern audiences: it’s thin, it’s weak and takes far too long to open up. After about ten minutes in a covered glass, there’s little to mark it as being premium anything: we get some wet grass, dark cherries, cinnamon, caramel, toffee, a touch of white chocolate, and some dried raisins. With effort, one might make out some overripe oranges, bananas and walnuts, but that’s reaching.

The palate is similarly unprepossessing. It is soft and easy to sip, of course – the strength and the ageing have sanded off any rough edges – with notes of leather, vanilla, sweet smoky paprika and freshly cut bell peppers, plus honey and maybe a wine-y hint or two. Some raisins, some crushed nuts, stale coffee grounds and all this leads to a short, lacklustre finish that’s an indeterminate mish-mash of caramel, vanilla, orange peel, and those coffee grounds again.

From these brief notes, you can clearly see I’m not impressed, because, for a rum positioning itself as special, there’s not enough to justify either the cachet or the price. For its time, I guess it did its job. In this day and age, it’s fails the Stewart Affordability Conjecture, in spades. It’s clearly a rum, decent enough – it just doesn’t deliver anything we don’t already get elsewhere with more flair at lesser prices. And if you want a comparison, just take down any Foursquare ECS edition bottled at a similar strength, and meditate on the difference between this pleasant but one-dimensional rum, and real craftsmanship.  But you know, the virtual disappearance of the rum from any kind of “best-of” lists or medal winners in recent years makes the karmic point better than any rebuttal I could write here, so I’ll just shrug, smile and move on.

(#1130)(80/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Company background (from Review #1129)

Gosling’s hails from Bermuda, which is a British Overseas Territory, Britain’s oldest: the company is closely identified with the island and is, aside from tourism and some manufacturing, a mainstay of Bermuda’s non-financial-services economy. 

The Gosling enterprise has been in business on Bermuda since 1806, when the ship’s charter for business in the USA expired while on the high seas (the ship was apparently becalmed for longer than expected). So instead of landing in Virginia, James Gosling, the son of a wine and spirits merchant in England, went ashore in St. George’s instead, and set up shop there with his brother Ambrose, trading in spirits he had brought with him. Rum blending from imported distillates began in 1860, with the Old Rum brand launching three years later. The company’s rums were originally sold directly from barrels to customers who brought their own bottles, a practise that continued until the Great War; however, Goslings’ rums’ popularity and sales took off when they began salvaging used champagne bottles from the British navy’s officer’s mess, filling those with rum and sealing them with black wax.

The Old Rum was renamed the Black Seal, with the now-famous seal logo designed and coming into use in 1948: the champagne bottles are rarer now, used only for the Family Reserve line, but the logo has remained in use ever since. It is the company’s flagship brand and goes hand in glove with their signature cocktail “The Dark ‘n’ Stormy, which was developed in the mid 1960s and trademarked in 1980 (and rigorously enforced).

Commentary | Opinion

First released in 2005, the Family Reserve Old Rum proudly adheres — on both the label and the website — to all the annoying lack of disclosure I remarked on with the 151 Overproof. The provenance is murky, the outturn is unknown, the blend is supposedly but unconfirmed to be pot and column distillates, and it’s aged “up to” sixteen years – hardly the best way to flog a much-touted premium product which the Caribbean Journal named its Rum of the Year in 2012 (Goslings on their undated website entry for the rum, casually restates this as “the Caribbean Journal named Goslings Family Reserve Old Rum the No.1 aged rum in the world.”)

Maybe those were simpler and more innocent times in the rumiverse, and maybe my impatience with marketing-speak informs my snark. Frankly, it surpasses my understanding how in this modern day and age, when the provision of information has been a hotly discussed point for over a decade, we still have to be Sherlock Holmes to get some bare bones, basic info. Goslings positions the rum as some kind of premium rum while telling us almost nothing about it. It was perhaps understandable back in the day, but now, it’s indefensible. 

Other notes

  • Video recap link
  • The bottle number is 4992/19 – my conjecture is that the last two digits represent the year of release.

Goslings 151 Proof Black Seal Bermuda Black Rum – Review

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Sep 262025
 

Goslings remains a well-regarded rum brand for Americans in particular, even if most rum geeks pass it by these days, in favour of better rums with more disclosure and more distinct flavour profiles. At the time when I began my own rum journey, they were a mainstay of the affordable and easily mixable rums (Appleton, Cruzan, Doorley’s, Flor de Cana, Pussers and El Dorado were others), but over the years they have receded somewhat from the minds of many. Still, the brand exists and has an ever expanding stable of releases, it couldn’t very well be ignored forever. So when I passed through Toronto’s Little Sister bar and restaurant where my friend Robin Wynne hangs his hat these days, and I saw he had some bottles on his shelf…well, what’s a guy to do? 

I’ll provide a more detailed company backgrounder below this review: for the moment, let me just mention that there’s a lack of information about what goes into Goslings rums which I find highly irritating in this day and age. It is never mentioned where the base distillate for their various releases comes from – not for the Black Seal, the 151, the Spirited Seas, Family Reserve or Single Barrel, none of them. We also don’t know the still of origin, or the age; however, House of Malt website in the UK notes it as being a minimum of three years old, and aged in charred barrels. However, given the hue, it’s obviously got E150 chucked in to ensure the dark colour gives the (misleading) impression of more serious ageing. 

So: it’s a 151 overproof rum (see here for an in-depth article on the subject) at 75.5% ABV, sulking in the glass, dark of hue and sullen in mien, inspiring nothing but nervousness brought about by traumatic encounters with others of its tribe… like, oh, the Bacardi 151. The first smells are hot and fierce and thin, redolent of plastic and furniture polish, but fortunately the nose settles its ass down after a bit, and then one gets mostly leather, smoke, carmel and molasses. There’s some damp tobacco and cinnamon, some raisins, maybe a fig or two – overall, it’s not too bad, if one has the patience to wait a while for the alcohol to burn off so the aromas can be more clearly sensed.

I genuinely believe that even at that strength, the taste is surprisingly good for a rum that numbered itself among the entry-level bottom-feeders. Once one recovers one’s voice and the tonsils settle down from the attack of sharp alcohol, there are notes of plasticine, rubber, and candy floss, as well as hints of white chocolate and an uninspired macchiato with too much foam. Add to that some cinnamon, molasses, caramel, toffee, almonds, cardamom, stale coffee grounds (!), plus some bitterness and dried fruits in the backseat, and that’s pretty much it. At that strength the exit takes its own sweet time, but overall, long as it is, the finish adds little that’s new to the party, so I’ll leave it there.

The question that arises, after tasting it is: where does the distillate originate? Bermuda doesn’t have a sugar industry or a serious distillation tradition and Goslings seems to have always imported its stocks. I have an unconfirmed report that Foursquare has provided barrels in the past, but the countries that jumped to mind for me as I tasted it were more Guyana and Trinidad. It remains an unanswered question for now, so if it’s terroire you want, look elsewhere, ’cause it ain’t here.

Most people who’ve written long or short evaluations of Gosling’s 151 over the last decade rate it at around 7/10, which I think is about right. There is more under the hood than I thought there would be, but that statement has to be parsed carefully. For one, the very dark reddish brown tint is unnatural, even for a rum aged for three years in charred barrels; the tastes are very traditional, heralding back to two decades ago when blends were everything and we were never told what the components were. But, we’ve moved on since those more innocent times, and here there’s little that’s new or exciting – the selling point is, of course, the strength, which suits it for exactly what it is, i.e., a mixing ingredient for strong cocktails.

That said, as a rum speaking for Bermuda based on tastes, hardly. It’s indeterminate, fairly straightforward and well done, yet offers little that’s exciting.  It’s just a decent rum, that’s all: if that’s all you’re after, if you could care less about terroire, and the strength doesn’t put you off…well, then it’s worth a buy. I guess.

(#1129)(78/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Company background

So: Goslings. Let’s recap the history for those who like to know this stuff. Gosling’s hails from Bermuda, which is a British Overseas Territory, Britain’s oldest: the company is closely identified with the island and is, aside from tourism and some manufacturing, a mainstay of Bermuda’s non-financial-services economy. 

The Gosling enterprise has been in business on Bermuda since 1806, when the ship’s charter for business in the USA expired while on the high seas. So instead of landing in Virginia, James Gosling, the son of a wine and spirits merchant in England, went ashore in St. George’s instead, and set up shop there with his brother. Rum blending from imported distillates began in 1860 (one wonders what they did before then), with the Old Rum brand launching three years later. The company’s rums were originally sold directly from barrels to customers who brought their own bottles, a practise that continued until the Great War; however, Goslings’ rums’ popularity and sales took off when they began salvaging used champagne bottles from the British navy’s officer’s mess, filling those with rum and sealing them with black wax.

The Old Rum was renamed the Black Seal, with the now-famous seal logo designed and coming into use in 1948: the champagne bottles are rarer now, used only for the Family Reserve line, but the logo has remained in use ever since. It is the company’s flagship brand and goes hand in glove with their signature cocktail “The Dark ‘n’ Stormy, which was developed in the mid 1960s and trademarked in 1980 (and rigorously enforced, as my friend Josh Miller of the rum website Inu-a-kena once found, to his chagrin).

Other notes

  • Video recap link
  • I could only find one hydrometer test on Gosling’s 151, and it was done in 2017 by The Fat Rum Pirate. It shows as pretty much “clean.”

Don Q Double Cask Finish (Cognac) 8YO Puerto Rican Rum – Review

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Aug 222025
 

What a difference a few percentage points of proof and a second maturation can make.  I have gone through a fair few of Don Q’s rums that were all issued at 40%, and commented on the stuff I didn’t like, almost every single time.  Well, here is the proof that better is out there, and yes, they can do it if they really want to.  Because the Double Cask Cognac edition of the Serralles Collection, is a quiet stunner of a rum.

No need to write more about the Puerto Rican brand of Don Q or Destilería Serrallés — previous reviews have enough already. Still, for those who like their production details, it’s a molasses based rum, the third in their “Double Cask Finish” subseries within the Serrallés Collection. The official blurb on the website says it’s “a blend of [..] selected Puerto Rican rums from single and multiple-column distillations. Aged in American White Oak Barrels for 5-8 years, then rested and finished for an additional two years in the finest French Oak [ex-]Cognac casks. So it’s, by strict definitions, a 7YO rum, and by my own criteria, a double aged rum, not a finished one. What’s different about it is that it’s bottled at 49.6%, and believe me, that makes quite a difference.

Consider first, the nose: it’s fruitier and rounder than its cousins, with vanilla, smoke, caramel, toffee, blancmange, married to the silkiness of a really creamy ice cream. Also charred wood doused with water (!!), port infused cigarillos, with a depth of scent and aroma that is impressive. A fine ribbon of brine and olives melds well with lemon zest, and there’s a faint note of unripe, sour grapes or cherries in there, with just enough of a sweet scent to overcome any lingering doubts that this is something special.

There’s real body on the palate too, redolent of ginger snaps, a dry kind of honey, and of course, the hits: salted caramel ice cream, toffee, vanilla, nougat, almonds, crushed walnuts and a nice touch of bitter chocolate.  Behind all that is the brininess, kept way back, and balanced off with slightly more acidic notes of unripe fruits, green grapes, apples, and orange peel.  If I had to say there was a weak point, it’s the finish, but even that is just less with respect to the quality of what came before, not in and of itself – judged against other rums it’s just fine, a nice blend of sweet and musky and salt and sour.  No complaints here, at least not from me.

Coming at the end of a long tasting session with the brand rep Duncan Hayter and his daughter at the German rum fest some time ago, it was a welcome step up, believe me, as the standard strength rums of the company, while not necessarily bad, were beginning to fill me with some impatience. The cognac cask edition restored my faith.

All of the issues I had with the Zinfandel are addressed and the rum exhibits the same level of quality, just boosted and given some teeth. Previously I hinted that maybe more jaded connoisseurs who cut their teeth on stuff north of 60% would never find common ground, but I contend that they might consider giving this Puerto Rican rum a serious look.And it’s not to say that the weaker versions are bad – they’re not, and in fact carry the standard nobly for their company. It’s just that this one is quite simply better. And I’m glad I had the opportunity to try it.

(#1128)(86/100) ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

  • Video recap link
  • As with tghe Zinfandel edition, the website and the label are at odds. The website says a blend of 5-8 year old rums finished for an extra two years. But the label says it’s aged in ex-bourbon barrels from October 2009 to July 2012; blended in April 2019 and left to marry, before being laid in French oak (ex-cognac) casks until bottling in June 2022. The gaps between 2012 and 2019 are where the confusion lies, and for simplicity’s sake, I’ll stick with the website for now and call it an 8YO rum. But I wish they’d make it clearer.
  • So why don’t we see more of rums like these from this casa? The difference between this and those of softer strength editions (which is almost all of them) is enough that even the mass market should, in theory, pick up on it and put their coin where the quality lies.  Well, maybe. Price still rules, and the rum retails for around £67 in the UK and between €50 and €60 depending on where you look in Europe. So since others of nearly equal worth are selling for less, perhaps that’s it.
  • My compliments and thanks to @viktortheslickster5824 on youtube, whose question about Don Q rums prompted me to do this small series.

Don Q Double Cask Finish (Zinfandel) 8YO Puerto Rican Rum – Review

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Aug 132025
 

Don Q, the flagship brand of Destilería Serrallés out of Puerto Rico, is a company whose products I’ve taken the time took at in some depth over the last months; this is largely due to the courtesy of their enormously friendly brand rep, Duncan Hayter, who let me hang out at the Serrallés / Don Q  booth at the German rum festival some time back. I didn’t get to try everything the company has, just enough to get a good feel for the line from their bottom feeders to the top end. 

What’s interesting here, now, is how many rums they have in the portfolio, that have been finished in some other barrel as part of the overall ageing process. Whether the Don Q Zinfandel is double aged or “merely” finished can be debated without resolution, but there’s no question that it demonstrates something the way major producers are adapting to the whole business of “more than just ex-bourbon barrels”. Until just a few years ago, finishes and secondary maturations were the exception, mostly practiced by independents – now, more and more we are seeing primary producers get in on the game.

Don Q has several such rums in its current (2025) lineup – these are finished or double aged in, variously, port, sherry, vermouth, port, cognac… and, in this case, Zinfandel wine casks. So here we have a blend of column-still rums aged in ex-bourbon barrels for anything from 5 to 8 years, then rested (I guess that means “aged” in this context) in California ex-Zinfandel casks for a further three years (see “other notes” below, because the back label is somewhat at odds with this). Surprisingly enough, they keep with the tried and true 40%, which I’ve commented on before.

Let’s go to the tasting, then.  Nose first: fruity woody sweet vanilla winey, licorice (faint) berries, prune juice, burnt charred wood, hot tea. It’s quite fragrant and exhibits the complexity we would expect with that extra filip of ageing in Zinfandel. It’s mild, fruity and floral, with just enough bite (even at 40%) to make it display some character.

The palate is a mix of expected (one might say traditional) highlights, plus some intriguing enhancements: caramel, marshmallows, vanilla, coconut, toffee, blanmange, some smoke and leather, the faintest bite of tannics… in other words, all the comfortable hits. Then, after a few sips, we can taste some citrus, and again, blackberries and prune juice, a little licorice, a dry red wine, and blood oranges. Nice, if soft, and almost – but not quite – skirting the edge of scrawniness. You aren’t getting much at the finish at 40%, but it’s crisp and quite clean, decent enough, with light, floral, fruity notes, and again, that wine-y background that finishes, alas, all too quickly.

Summing it up quickly, overall it’s a pleasant sipping rum and I see why Don Q placed it in the upscale section of their website (the “Serrallés Collection”, which confusingly includes a spiced rum that I would not consider a superior product, though maybe that’s just me). What hampers it is the standard strength, but if one moves past that and has it with a fresh palate, I think few would be displeased with the final result. If it could only be stronger, I think they might really have something here, but for what it is, there’s little more to complain about.

(#1127)(84/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Other notes

  • Video recap link
  • The age is confusing. The back label says aged between October 2009 to July 2012 in American white oak. Then it was blended in December 2018. After an undefined period for the blend to marry, the rum was laid in Zinfandel casks for “the final finish” and bottled in September 2022.  Note the gaps and lack of information on the periods.  What happened between 2012 and 2018, and if it continued ageing, in what kinds of barrels? How long was the finish period? Matters are not helped by the website which simplifies all this by saying aged in American white oak for five years and in Zinfandel for three. For the purposes of this review, I have used the website since it is presumably more current and less prone to misinterpretation.
  • The difference between the wording on the rum’s label and the website entry also shows something of the confusion that permeates the industry – both by consumers and producers alike – as to what exactly constitutes a finish versus double maturation (or double ageing). On the label it’s called a “double cask finish”. On the website the same rum is called “double aged.” For my money, they describe aspects of the same process, which is that of using more than one type of barrel to enhance the ageing process and final flavour profile. The key is in the timing, which remains, somewhat surprisingly, undefined by the brand. 
  • In my own work, I tend to see a “finish” as secondary ageing of something less than one year, and “double ageing” or “double maturation” as anything more than one year. However, I must state that this is simply my personal take on the matter and if there is a more rigorous definition out there, feel free to let me know.

Marauda “Steelpan” Blended Rum (USA) – Review

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Aug 062025
 

Rumaniacs Review #R-165 | #1126

There’s a lot about the presentation, background, labelling and online information of the Marauda rum which is frustrating, so it’s a good thing I had my tasting notes and scoring down pat before I ever did a lick of research, since my snark might just have bled over into the evaluation, and that would be unfair. So I’ll leave that until the end and lead you right into the rum itself.

The Marauda is a rum supposedly bottled in South Carolina (but maybe in Europe) by an outfit of the same name, is apparently the top winner of rum prizes in 2015 and 2016, has a nice backstory of a scrappy underdog visionary seeking to upend the rumiverse and make it new with technology. That the brand is no longer extant and this was their sole product — released in 2015 and never again —  is not a textbook success story that will be taught in Ivy League business courses in years to come. The company website and social media all disappeared by 2018 without ever having made much of a ripple in the greater rumiverse, so I think I’m on safe ground to say this is all we ever got, or are going to get, and we have not missed it.

According to extant sources, the rum is a blend of three year old column-still rums from from Trinidad and Guyana, plus a pot distilled 3YO from Jamaica, and named after the “steel pan” — a uniquely and wholly Caribbean invention developed in the post-WW2 years in Trinidad. So essentially, Marauda was a US indie bottling such as what Ed Hamilton or Eric Kaye have produced. Except that they have run the blend through some kind of rapid filtration process called a TerrePURE® technology, that supposedly simulates ageing.1 Uh hunh. It’s probably not a coincidence that Lost Spirt’s Thea reactor was making waves just around the same time, with pretty much the same aim and claim but rather more fame. And both ended the same way.

What else? The derivation of the name is also unknown — it may be a play on “marauder” —  as is the outturn, although the bottle I have notes it is a limited edition, bottle #3558.

Strength – 40%

Colour – Light amber

Nose – Actually, rather good.  Light floral top notes, rather sharp and lots of acidic fruitiness, especially pineapples, ripe mangoes, gooseberries and citrus. Also sour candy, caramel, smoke, leather and vanilla.  Beneath all that is some rubber and cellophane tape, and even a touch of sawdust, like some kind of low rent Enmore rum.

Palate – All the above, but dialled down quite a bit. Dry, a little sour, and briny, and with tastes that that suggest a rum akin to a bourbon. Green unripe apples, gooseberries and florals, light citrus and vanilla, caramel and toffee. There’s a hint of funk here, too little to make a statement, really, and the Guyana part pokes its head up here and there if one concentrates. More would be me guessing.

Finish – Short, lightly sweet, gentle, gone as fast as a maiden’s shy kiss. Nothing new here, let’s keep it moving folks, show’s over.

Thoughts – It’s surprisingly and pleasantly drinkable, though the individual countries’ components take some work to tease out, if that’s what you’re after. A little bit of funk, a touch of cedar and licorice, are most of what distinguishes the Jamaican and Guyanese parts, and I guess the Trini portion is there to lend some backbone, to build a bridge between the other two.  Overall, it’s a rum, and a decent one, but not one I’d be in a hurry to buy again. It isn’t special enough to warrant more than a nod of approval, alas, because at end, it turned out to be be overpriced, overhyped and oversold — which, eventually, nobody cared enough about to support. And that turned it into a one-hit wonder, that was hardly as wonderful as it claimed.

(83/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Commentary

The so-called TerrePURE® technology is mentioned by several infoblurbs, but is omitted by several more. 

As usual with such things, the marketing hyperbole would have us believe it’s the usual application of cutting edge innovation married to centuries old tradition, to make something newer, better, faster, tastier… you know the drill.

But, one of the ways we can usually call bullshit, is when we are given a mountain of unverifiable claims (usually under the cover of “patented” or “trademarked” or “proprietary”) that are belied by hard evidence and actually looking at results. In this case, like with Lost Spirits, whatever results they have attained using this tech fall far short of the claims. A whole lot of something has likely been done, but it doesn’t add up to much of anything that three years in barrels hasn’t already done. 

Fast ageing is an unrealized dream for the moment, and while I am all for using advances in technology to improve and refine products, so far, for this purpose (ageing), here and elsewhere, it’s simply vapourware. Don’t get snookered.

Another issue I thought I would remark on, is the paucity of information on the brand, and the company that makes it. In this case, I had a hell of a time tracing both. First of all, the Marauda website no longer exists, though the WaybackMachine does preserve it. Secondly, the FB page has not been updated since 2018. Ditto for Instagram. So as far as I can tell, the brand is defunct. However, the RumLab newsletter did have a brief interview with the founder, Robert Elliott back in January 2017, which was long on the outsider status of Mr. Elliott, mentioned the Marauda, but literally told us nothing else … so, useless. Moreover, although the FB page says it’s bottled in SC, Distiller magazine says it’s in Amsterdam, meaning, probably Scheer.  What on earth are we to believe? We know almost nothing about the company, the founder, the distilleries of make, the outturn … about all we can say with assurance is that it once existed – because I have a physical bottle in my possession that says so.

Other notes

  • Video recap link
  • “Steelpan” is borderline appropriation of a piece of Caribbean heritage, though not on the level of Michael B. Jordan’s egregious “J’Ouvert” trademarking enterprise a few years back – but ultimately it’s the same thing. Actually, same country, almost.
  • “Up spirits” (on the back label) is a phrase commonly associated with the Royal Navy rums and surrounding traditions, which this isn’t and doesn’t have. I suppose that’s pedantic and snarky of me, but it’s worth a mention.
  • No details on the originating estates. By 2015/2016 when this came out, that was already a thing, so it’s odd that it wasn’t seen fit to mention.
  • Inconsistency of information about the TerrePURE® technology and its use is really quite surprising given it’s a major selling point. However, it seems to still exist and be in use.
  • Mr. Elliott’s online profile did provide a New Jersey phone number, so, wanting more info, I called it and got directed to his voicemail – I left a message, and never got a return call, unfortunately.

Don Q Gran Reserva Añejo XO Puerto Rican Rum – Review

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Jul 282025
 

It’s a peculiarity of the Don Q Gran Reserva Añejo XO, one of the last un-messed with editions of the Serralles Collection issued by the Puerto Rico firm of Destilería Serrallés, that the more specific details of the components aren’t actually on the label – one has to check the website to find out what makes it so special. Though it may just be so in the eyes of the producers, in this case they might actually be on to something.

Now, further up the line we start running into various finished editions (like the Vermouth, Cognac, Zinfandel and so on, plus stronger single barrel releases), but here we have a rum that plays it straight and doesn’t bother with any tweaks to make it different, or better, or unique.  It’s just a rum devoid of frippery, and had it been slightly cheaper, I would have seriously considered making it a Key Rum. 

It would seem that Destilería Serrallés took a look at their line and felt that to make the original a shade more premium they had to go a bit further than the 7YO or the original Gran Reserva (see below), and since they didn’t have a 12YO handy, this is what they come up with.

The original Gran Añejo is a rum that I tried and reviewed back in 2018 and scored 81 points based on a sample I had bought, but for my money, that one was an essay in the craft before they came up with the XO. For one thing, there was the upscale bottle design; too, it was simply called the “Gran Añejo” without further qualification, and back then it was a blend of rums aged 6-12 years old, with a smidgen of a 50 year old solera rum added in for depth. Fast forward a decade and now it’s the “Gran Añejo Reserva XO,” a bend of rums aged 9-12 years (still with some of that 50YO solera, however), and the bottle is not quite as elegant, though still quite nice. In both cases the rum is a column-still distillate from molasses, issued at a comfortable 40%. 

We’ve discussed the company and other background matters before in the recent Don Q reviews, so I won’t rehash them here. Let’s just proceed to the tasting notes right away.

What’s immediately noticeable about the nose is how perfumed, how fruity and floral it is. Ripe red cherries, grapes and dried cranberries meld seamlessly with light traces of lavender and citrus zest. Behind that lurk more traditional notes: vanilla, cinnamon, caramel and burnt marshmallows, with the whole thing also giving hints of crushed walnuts and a sort of salted butter aspect that’s far from unpleasant. It’s not quite leaps and bounds above the 7YO – both are hamstring by the easy proof point…but it is better.

The palate is no slouch either. Soft and well behaved, yes – we would hardly expect a face-ripping leopard to leap out of the glass at 40% – and also both briny and sweet, with the same fruity flavours of dark cherries, ripe red grapes and squishy Thai mangoes. We can also sense vanilla, those burnt marshmallows again, caramel, toffee, perhaps some used coffee grounds, harsh oversoaked black tea, all somehow tied together by a soft citrus zest that I for one, quite enjoyed. The finish is a real weak point, though – it’s just gone too quick, and most of the aforementioned notes, while discernible, are really too faint

It’s recognizably a Spanish (or Cuban) -style ron, a fine rum of softness and depth and good tasting chops, priced reasonably well.There’s enough going on inside to appeal to a more seasoned rum drinker, while pleasing those who are now getting into the game and are looking for something non-threatening to the tonsils and the purse. I have no reservations recommending it, whatever my issues are with standard proof (I really believe it wouldn’t hurt to bump it up to, say, 45%).

Still: of late I’ve been coming around somewhat to re-appreciating a swathe of such rons that stronger indie bottlings from other parts of the world have previously displaced from my mental map of the rumiverse. With several recent rums of the Spanish style (Bristol Spirits’ recent DR and Venezuela rums, for example, even if indie bottlings, show the potential), perhaps its time to give them some more love, a re-assessment, and some more appreciation. The XO is one reason why that statement can absolutely be said, and be meant. 

(#1125)(84/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Other notes

Key Rums of the World: Destilería Serrallés Don Q Reserva 7YO Rum

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Jul 192025
 

Five years after its introduction, the Don Q Reserva 7YO rum from Puerto Rico has established itself as something of a quiet underground rum that is not usually recognized for its quality in the online rum fora – most of the time people skip over it to try the slightly older Gran Anejo, for example, or the single barrel release. And yet, it comes up for discussion quite often – rarely by itself, as itself, but usually as a comparator, something looked at with other rums of its kind (like the Bacardi Ocho, for one). 

It flies under the radar for most people, I think, perhaps being seen as a single digit rum that is best for a cocktail … but which I argue has a quality that is equally suited for an affordable sipping experience. Even at 40% ABV, and even with a (somewhat surprising) dearth of online reviews, the rum punches well above its weight, and if perhaps it does not make “best-of” lists as often as its more upscale, finished or single-barrel siblings, it is a rum that I genuinely believe is a quiet classic that deserves a revisit… at the very least more appreciation: for a home bar, a back bar, or, for that matter, just about any bar that stocks good rums.

For those who like a brief introduction, this is a rum made by Destilería Serrallés of Puerto Rico, which is the biggest seller of rums on the island, even if elsewhere it always seems ot be overshadowed by the brontosaurus of Bacardi, which is also located there (along with several other smaller distilleries, like Club Caribe and San Juan Artisan Distillers). And yet, the distillery has been around since 1865 and is a well regarded rum brand around the world, with its main and best known product being the Don Q series first issued in 1934 (others are Boca Chica, Palo Viejo, Ron Llave, and Granado, though these are much less famous — Don Q is the outward facing, more premium export brand).

Well, a couple of years back, I spent an inordinate amount of time at the German Rum festival’s Don Q booth with the estimable sales rep Duncan Hayter and his lovely assistant, and ran through their most of their line, hoping to get a sense of the evolution up the age ladder, and this resulted in the Gold and Cristal reviews which I’ve already done, with more to follow. The 7YO is a different animal, though – it is the first of the “more serious” aged offerings that leads to the fancy premium bottlings of the Serralles line and was introduced with some fanfare in 2020.

Technical details: it’s blend of multi-column distilled light rums and single copper column distilled heavy rums, which were aged for a minimum of seven years in American white oak barrels – no additions, no fancy finishes. My understanding is that the lighter component has a fermentation period of just under 48 hours, while the heavier portion is anywhere from 60 to 300 hours, which really makes me curious as to how much of each distillate is in the final blend.

The results speak for themselves: it’s damned fine. The nose is somewhat lacklustre at first – tawny, dusty, with notes of honey, caramel, and crushed nuts. It is a little dry, and very solid, which is admirable for the strength, and then , after a few minutes, it starts to pick up a head of steam. We sniff emergent light hints of cinnamon, dark chocolate, vanilla, almonds, breakfast spices, coffee grounds, even some, crackers, and a faint background of brine. The tannics are kept well back, which is good, since aged rons of this kind may occasionally display some bite from the barrel if not carefully tended.

The palate is also quite tasty. Reasonably warm rather than spicy, it shows off notes of chewy caramel toffee, bon bons, vanilla, light molasses, a sort of creamy Guiness, one might say. Brown sugar muskiness is cut by a mild citrus line, with caramel everpresent, and there is also an interesting background of pickled ginger (the palate cleanser of many a sushi joint I’ve been thrown out of), as well as Dr. Pepper soda, which is odd enough, I’ll grant you, but leading to a nice enough finish (too short, though) of coffee grounds, nuts, almonds, chocolate and caramel.

Initially, thinking back on it and rereading my notes, it seems somewhat straightforward, even simple. But as it opens up and develops, when the fruits and nuts make their appearance, its quality and place in memory start to get a whole lot greater.  And while the overall impression is perhaps somewhat wine-y and even reminiscent of a soda sometimes, it remains a very nice dram, and certainly has its adherents when it comes to making a cocktail like a daiquiri or an Old Fashioned (or whatever some creative mixologist can come up with)

For a rum that’s relatively young and sometimes overshadowed by the finishes and stronger proofs of the more heavily promoted premium and upscale rums of the company, it is really quite an enjoyable sipping experience. It is pleasantly affordable, gives bang for the buck and acts as a solid bridge between the younger mixing rums of the line, and the pricier Gran Anejo – I liked it a lot, even if I feel that a few extra points of proof could be useful, and would like to see more age statement rums from the company in the portfolio. But whether it’s at standard strength or not, the blend and the craft that made it are self-evident, and I believe it should receive more serious attention. Hopefully, as time goes on, this opinion will be justified by others, and the rum recognized more widely as a Key Rum which I contend it is, and it deserves to be.

(#1123)(83/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

El Dorado Grand Special Reserve 1997 25YO Rum – Review

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Jul 162025
 

 

In my rum drinking life, I have been extraordinarily fortunate to have tasted up and down the pantheon of great and not so great Guyanese rums – blends, single still bottlings, caskers, aged dinosaurs, special editions, the works. These days independent bottlers and single barrel offerings hog the lion’s share of the limelight, the rums of Velier remain grail quests for many, and therefore DDL’s standard offerings (3, 5, 8, 12, 15 and 21 year olds) which put Guyana and the famed wooden stills on the map have lost a little of their lustre. Yet, perhaps because of their relative rarity – and price – the 25 year old editions which DDL releases every few years still have something of a cachet… which, to this reviewer, is not always deserved.

Thus far, and going from memory, there have been six 25YO rums in the series, distilled in 1975 (the Millenium Edition), 1980, 1986, 1988, 1992 and now, this one, in 1997. If there are others, I don’t know about them.  All have been at either 40% or 43% ABV, all are housed in  handsome gold-leaf-embossed decanters with a glass and cork stopper, and all are reasonably tasty. And as an aside, in no case are we ever told anything about the components of the blend, though it is a reasonable assumption that there are heritage still components, maybe some French Savalle still juice, and marques from all over the map. DDL knows, of course, but they aren’t telling us, and reviewers who have tried them and written about them thus far (and there aren’t many), are equally scant on the details. We’ll have to live with that, I suppose.

I’ve sampled all but one of them thus far, and some time back, had a lot of fun writing a biblical screed against the 1986 and its dosage. The rums are easy drinking, complex to a fault, just lacking the background that would enable us to evaluate them better. Paradoxically however, this makes us pay rather more attention to them, since we walk in with no preconceived notions, no knowledge, no expectations – and so we have to do all the work ourselves.

It’s not a bad rum, all in all – the 43% strength makes it a very approachable, soft nosing experience, and it’s gentle to a fault, though some might sniff disparagingly that it’s actually somewhat thin. It starts with a deceptively straightforward series of aromas: caramel, toffee, white chocolate, almonds and vanilla, with traces of molasses, oak tannins and leather.  Some spices slowly meander into the frame – cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg – accompanied after a few minutes, by raisins, peaches, apricots and green apples.  But I must mention this: the rum really opens up slowly, and none of this is evident right off the bat. It’s a rum that rewards more patience than usual, and I’d suggest letting it stand for at least five minutes before really getting into it.

The same comments are applicable to what it tastes like. It’s maintains some edge, mostly tannics and slight bitterness (it’s very likely that the dosage is minimal here, but this is an opinion, since I was unable to test it). The standard notes that characterize so many El Dorado rums are all there: molasses, bitter chocolate, light wood shavings, licorice, caramel, toffee.  It’s the fruits that are key here – they come late to the party, but once they do, the thing gets better in a hurry as they coil over the palate and make themselves felt: so, we taste raisins, peaches, apricots, very ripe yellow mangoes on the cusp of going off, plus a well balanced series of spices like cinnamon, vanilla and a dusting of nutmeg, leading to a soft and gentle finish that, alas, is gone all too quickly, and sums up most of the preceding elements without adding anything new.

So, let’s clear the dishes: we have a pot-column-still blend of unknown marques, aged a minimum of 25 years – nobody has ever put a dent in DDL’s age statements – and issued at 43%. On the surface, it ticks all the right boxes: easy drinking for those with deep pockets but perhaps not as much experience with rums; a luxury cachet from one of the best known rum brands in the world; and enough complexity for those who know what to look for.  What it doesn’t have is single-still distinctiveness, which may be a downer for some, though I argue that in a blend this old, perhaps that may be expecting too much.

For those who have been weaned on sterner, stronger stuff, this may be seen as weak gruel and slim pickings, yet I argue if one accepts that and simply enjoys what’s there, there are treasures to be discovered and appreciated. The El Dorado 25 year old series has never been one for amazing off-the-charts tastes – it’s the age that is the selling point, not the uniqueness of the profile. These days, with indie bottlers releasing decades old juice with some regularity, perhaps this doesn’t press all the buttons. Yet here, even within those limitations, the rum presents well, and if it was cheaper, I’d probably go out there and buy it on the spot.

(#1123)(85/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Other notes

  • Video recap link
  • Outturn is unknown
  • In Calgary I saw it selling for about Can$400. In Toronto’s LCBO, it goes for $550. That of course does not compare with the recent Appleton Estate 51YO 62% rum supposedly selling for $70,000, but it’s still a pretty hefty price tag for us proles who watch our wallets.

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

 1 Response »
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

 1 Response »
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 – 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 I initially thought pinpointed the distillery of origin as Sang Som — but I have been told (twice) that this is not correct and the arrangement between Velier and the producer requires the distillery bot to be mentioned, so it remains a question mark. 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. 
  • “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

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