El Dorado Rare Collection – Enmore 1993-2015 22 YO EHP

 1 Response »
Mar 162018
 

#0497

“A cheap shot,” muttered Henrik, referring to DDL stopping Velier’s access to their rums in 2015, and surely channelling the feelings of many. And it was therefore perhaps unavoidable that the initial DDL Rare Collection rums issued in early 2016 were instantly compared to the Age of Demerara Veliers upon whose success they wished to capitalize and whose street cred they sought to supplant.  That’s hard cheese and perhaps unfair to the rums, but it was and remains DDL’s cross to bear and they must have known that going in. The question was whether they maintained the standard and kept the bar as high as Velier left it.

Luca, in a long and rambling conversation with me early the following year, totally felt they had, but I had a somewhat less exalted opinion after taking apart the the 2002 VSG, where the tannins retained a dominance that made a merely positive experience out of a potentially great one.  However, I’m a sucker for Enmore and Port Mourant rums too and dived into this one with somewhat more enthusiasm, ignoring the dictum that madness is described as doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. One never knows what the result is going to be with these bottlings, after all.

Let’s dive right in without further fanfare. The nose was lovely, perhaps a bit light after the 63% of the VSG.  In most Enmores, the licorice is up front and in your face as a hockey goalie’s mask, but here it took a back seat for some time, and a righteously enormous fruity nose presented first: pineapple chunks, peaches, apricot, candied oranges, lemon zest, to which was added caramel, oak (too much wood, I thought), a little brine and a detectable but submissive line of licorice in the background that never quite came forward. There’s a sort of lightness to the overall smell that reminded me of an agricole to some extent, which is quite a feat for a Guyanese rum.  Anyway, it was a pleasure to savour in a snifter or a glencairn and my opinion is that if you’re trying it, take your time, especially if you dropped a couple of hundred bucks on the drink to begin with.

Tasting the Enmore showed that DDL, when they want to put their shoulder to the wheel and stop farting around with dosage and 40%, can produce something quite good (as if we did not already know that from the Three Amigos issued a decade ago). The lightness of the nose disappeared like it was never there: thick and dark and quite warm, even smooth, compared to the other fullproof Guyanese rums I had on the table as controls.  It presented fleshy fruits as before (peaches, apricots, pineapple), as well as lemon peel, anise, and a peculiar sort of mouth-puckering dryness that made me think of gooseberries and five-finger. Fortunately there were some balancing tastes of caramel, nougat, a little vanilla, white toblerone and coffee to keep things in bounds, and even more fortunately the oak which I had feared would be over dominant (like with the VSG), was kept under much tighter control and didn’t derail the drink as a whole…although it came close. I’d have to say the finish was interesting – ginger, black tea, aromatic tobacco, caramel and coffee grounds, and a bit of fruitiness and citrus closing up the shop. Overall?  Pretty good. The oak may have been a tad much: the rum may be sporting wood but while that’s a good thing for a Buxton badass, it is somewhat less popular in a rum of this kind.

The famed stills have gotten so much press over the years that I hardly need to go into detail: suffice to say while the Versailles is a wooden pot still, the Enmore is a wooden continuous Coffey (column) still, looking, in Dave Broom’ wry opinion, like a huge filing cabinet.  The rums coming off the still have always been among my favourites, and for this Tiger Bay street hood, 22 years old and bottled at 56.5%, no adulteration and old enough to vote, it upheld the rep of the marque extremely well – it does the Enmore “brand” no disrepute or dishonour at all.  It stacks up well against the Duncan Taylor Enmore 1985, Silver Seal 1986 and the Velier 1988, does not exceed the Compagnie’s 1988 (that one was masterful and a near impossible act to beat) and I’ve heard DDL’s second release is even better. Based on the result of DDL’s attempt here, I can only say that I’ve steered my purchasing decisions for 2018 in that direction, because this I really have to see. If DDL can make the Enmores that take on and defeat the independents, I think we need have no fear for the marque or the brand dipping in quality any time soon.

(86/100)

Other Notes

  • Just to keep the perspective:  Rumcorner scored this 82, remarking with some disappointment that “it still had a few steps to take before it is on par.” And Serge over at WhiskyFun, of course, felt the VSG just killed it and this one could not come up to snuff, scoring it at 81.  The FatRumPirate on the other hand, noting that it was “equally as good as some of the Velier Demeraras” gave it the full monty – five stars, as did RumShopBoy, who scored it around 94 (Parker scale converted).  And never forget Cyril of DuRhum, who liked it enough to give it 87 solids.
  • The age seems to be a bit confusing: my bottle says distilled in 1993, bottled in 2015 so a 22 year old, but a number of my compatriots say it’s a 21 year old, possibly to line up with the standard bottlings of 12-15-21.  DDL as usual did not bother to comment. Honestly, their reticence is really getting annoying.
  • No adulteration noticed or recorded.

 

El Dorado Rare Collection – Versailles 2002-2015 13 YO VSG

 7 Responses »
Mar 142018
 

#496

It’s been two years since the furore created by the inadvertently premature publication of the Velier catalogue entries for the El Dorado Rare Collection ignited in the minds of the Velier lovers, and I’ve been sitting on the three bottles almost since that time, waiting to get around to them. One of the reasons the reviews were not written immediately was simply that I felt the dust needed to settle down a bit, so that they could be approached with something resembling objectivity.  Two years might have been just about enough for me to forget the original reviews that came out that year…and then The Little Caner was glancing through the Big Black Notebook #2 and pointing out that here were notes I took – twice! – and still not written about, so what’s your malfunction, Pops? Move along already.

Yes well.  Leaving aside the young man’s disrespect for his geriatric sire, let’s review the stats on this rum, the Versailles, made from the near legendary wooden single pot still, marque VSG.  First of all, no information on the outturn was ever made available, so I’m forced to go with Luca’s comment to me of “about 3000 bottles,” which DDL never felt it necessary to nail down for us. Distilled 2002, bottled in 2015, so a 13 year old rum. Strength was a beefy 63% and for that you could expect some seriously intense flavour when coupled with full tropical ageing. There are some other facts which I’ll go into in more depth below the tasting notes, but let me address these first, so you get the same impressions I had without anything else clouding your mind.

A bright orange brown in hue, the nose that billowed out as soon as the bottle was cracked, was deep and lush, and I liked it right off.  Coffee and candied oranges, nougat and caramel, quite soft for a 63% beefcake, and quite rich, to which were added, over time, additional notes of furniture polish, muscavado, anise, florals and some light paint thinner.  Having had a few El Dorados quite recently, I remember thinking this actually presented quite close to the 12 Year Old “standard” rum (at 40%), which, while stupefied to the point of near imbecility in terms of both strength and adulteration, also had Versailles pot still rum as a major portion of the blend.

That wooden pot still taste profile really comes into its own on the palate (much as the 12 year old did), and this was no exception.  The whole taste was anise, pencil shavings and oak forward, and this became the bedrock upon which other, warmer and subtler flavours rested – fruits like apricots, pears, plums, raisins and ripe apples for the most part – but the tannins were perhaps a bit too dominant and shoved the caramel, molasses, herbs (like rosemary and mint) and lighter fruity elements into the background.  I added water to see what would happen and the fruits displayed better, but it also allowed a certain sweet syrup (the kind canned fruits come with) to become noticeable, not entirely to the rum’s benefit. It tasted well, was intense and powerful beyond question: I just felt the balance between the elements was weighted too heavily in favour of the woods and bitter chocolate notes…at the expense of a more tempered rum that I would appreciate more.  As for the finish, it really was too tannic for my liking, once again pushing soft fruits into the background and not allowing much except caramel, lemon zest, raisins and acetones to close off the show.

Overall, the rum displayed rather less of the hallmarks of careful and judicious balancing of the tastes to which Velier’s aged mastodons had accustomed us, and while it was not a shabby rum by any means, it also had components that subtly clashed with each other, in such a way that the showcasing of a wooden still’s profile was downgraded (though not entirely lost, thank goodness). More to the point, it feels…well, dumbed down. Straightforward. Edging close to simple.

Now, according to Henrik over on the Rumcorner, who reviewed this very same rum before passing it over to me, it was tampered with – some 14g/L of adulteration was present, and the Fat Rum Pirate noted 8 g/L himself.  That’s not enough to disqualify it from the running – you have to go way over 20 g/L to start seriously degrading the taste of a rum this powerful – but the question is and will always remain, why bother? At the price point and relative rarity, for the purpose of the issue – to take over from Velier and make a mark on the full proof rarities of the world – only die-hards would buy it and they’re the ones who knew best, and know now, what they’re buying, so why piss them off (and worse yet, omit the disclosure)? Tradition? Gimme a break.  (On the other hand, it is possible DDL merely mismeasured the true ABV and it’s actually not 63% and thereby fooled the hydrometers and calculations…but I chose to doubt that).

That said, this is one of those times when I think that if there was dosage and not an ABV misreading (which some still maintain and DDL as usual says nothing about either way), then the addition served a purpose, and DDL were damned if they did and damned if they didn’t.  The sugar (or caramel or whatever the additive was – remember, a hydrometer measures changes in density, it does not identify the source – we just assume it’s sugar) allowed the sharper bite of tannins to be tamed somewhat and made the rum a powerful, brutal drink with the jagged edges toned down…but this came at a price: it also masked the subtleties that the hardcore look for and enjoy.

Serge of WhiskyFun scored this 90 points, Cyril of DuRhum gave 86, and Henrik gave it 83 and RumShopBoy about 84, and they all made it clear what they experienced — me,  I sort of fall in the middle of the Serge’s enthusiasm and Henrik’s despite, and can call it a good rum without embarrassment – but alas, it’s not a game-changer, not a must-have, not a scene-stealer. It comes off as being just another limited edition bottling from a new independent bottler, featuring a marque that still has some lustre and shine, but not one which this rum burnishes to a high gloss.

(84.5/100)

 

 

 

Mount Gay Black Barrel Rum – Review

 1 Response »
Mar 112018
 

#495

Some time ago I called Mount Gay XO one of the Key Rums of the World, and observed that it longevity, decency and general all-purpose usefulness created a shadow in which all subsequently issued Bajan rums to some extent had to live.  Times moved on and other profiles started to take precedence in the rumiverse, but Mount Gay, however delinquent in moving into the limited edition or cask strength landscape so effectively colonized by Foursquare, did not entirely rest on its laurels, and did try to experiment here and there to see what else they could pull out of their trousers (their recent foray into flavoured categories like the Mauby is a case in point).

The Black Barrel, introduced in 2013 (it was previously called the Eclipse Black 100 Proof) was one of these.  It was never quite a mainstream MG rum like the XO – which can be found practically everywhere and is known around the world – but it was and remains an interesting variation on the core concept of a pot and column still blend bottled a few points above the norm (43%).  Its claim to distinction (or at least difference) was to have a secondary ageing in heavily charred ex-bourbon barrels, and it was specifically created, according to Master Blender Allen Smith, to provide a versatile best-of-both-worlds rum – a better than average near-premium that could just as easily be used in a cocktail, and particularly to appeal to bourbon drinkers.

That might be the key to its profile, because unlike caskers and single barrel rums which almost demand to be sipped (so as to extend the enjoyment you feel you deserve after forking out three figures for one), the Black Barrel was designed to both do that or be mixed, and whether that duality and the lack of an age statement helps or not, well, that’s for every individual drinker to decide for themselves.

For me, not entirely.  For all its appearance of small batch quality (label has each bottle individually numbered and Mr. Smith’s printed signature on it), there was little to mark it out as being something exceptional – though admittedly it did diverge from the XO in its own way.  It presented an initial note of light acetones and nail polish, 7-Up and a lemon meringue pie, delicately creamy with citrus, tart apples, and a lot of vanilla, under which could be sensed some ripe bananas. “Light and frothy,” my notes went, “But where’s the exceptionalism?”

Exactly, and that was also the issue with the taste.  It came on somewhat sharply, and with some salt and very light olive-y profile (that was good), and as it opened up and I came back to it over time, further hints of apples, pears, salt caramel, almonds, coconut and bananas made their presence known.  Molasses, somewhat surprisingly, took a back seat, as did the citrus notes, both of which could be sensed but were so light as to almost disappear into the background altogether. The vanilla, on the other hand, was right there, front and center, and it all faded out fast in a rather short finish that coughed up a few last tastes of a citrus-flavoured yogurt, some woody and smoky notes, more vanilla and a final touch of caramel.  

The Mount Gay Black Barrel, then, was well made and nicely assembled – but originality was not exactly its forte. The balance tilted too heavily to the influence of the char (maybe that was the intent?), and wasn’t quite up to scratch for me.  The whole experience was also not so much light as underperforming … more than a youngish rum (it’s actually a blend of rums aged 7-12 years) could have been expected to present. In that respect, the makers were absolutely right – the rum could just as easily be taken neat as mixed up with something to create a cool cocktail with an evocative name, redolent of Barbados.  What it meant to me when I was sorting out my thinking, was that it was mostly another rum to round out the overall portfolio of the Mount Gay line than anything so original that it would supplant the XO in the opinion of its adherents. Perhaps it would have been better off trying to be one or the other, sipper or mixer, than uneasily straddling the divide between them both.  Rums that fail at this balancing act tend to have very long shelf lives, as this one will probably have on mine.

(82/100)

Avuá Prata Cachaça – Review

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Mar 072018
 

#494

The Avuá brand of cachaça has a slightly different pedigree from independents in Europe who buy from brokers, and is closer to that of small new rum companies who buy selected stock direct from distilleries (e.g. Whisper, Toucan, and Real McCoy, for example).  Two New Yorkers – one a former brand manager for Red Bull, Pete Nevenglosky, the other a businessman and lawyer, Nate Whitehouse – developed a liking for the spirit and sensed (or thought they could exploit) a rising appreciation for craft spirits in the US – rum generally, cachaça specifically.  After some searching and sampling around, they settled on Fazenda da Quinta Agronegócios, a distillery just outside Rio dating back to 1923 which produces the trio of the da Quinta cachaças — an Amburana-aged, an oak-aged and a white. Starting with the Aburana and the white, these were rebranded for sale in the US as Avuá Amburana and Avuá Prata but I have not been able to establish anything particularly original about them that would set them apart from the da Quinta line

Never mind. Quite aside from these biographical details, I’m always on the lookout for interesting white rums, and so made it a point to check out the Prata just to see how well it fared.  Which was, for a 42% rested-but-not-aged pot still rum, not shabby at all, if not quite as feral or in-your-face as some of the French island blancs, or, for that matter, the clairins.  In fact, nosing it, the Prata presented as a rather genteel variation of such more elemental whites – akin to Cabo Verde grogues, really – and for that reason may actually be preferred by people who are put off excessive expressions of crazy and are more middle of the road.  It was redolent of sugar cane juice freshly pressed, oily, briny and with some olive action in the background, but also herbal notes of dill and a little sage, some faint rubber hints, and subtle acetone and florals rounding out the profile.  

The palate was not overly aggressive – at that strength it would have been surprising if it had been – and while quite dry, it reminded me somewhat of the unaged column still clairins, just gentler.  It was warm, sweet, and almost delicate, and also contained some of Neisson’s tequila and briny notes. Sugar water (and that’s white sugar, by the way), more dill, sage, rosemary and a little cinnamon, but what distinguished it after a few minutes was an unique (for cachacas) taste of musty earth and wet tropical vegetation that bordered on the funkiness of a Jamaican without ever actually being so.  The mouthfeel was rather light, warm and relatively smooth, so certainly the initial cuts and the resting period had their impact. As for the finish, nothing original there – just warm, aromatic sweet spices, and a vague mustiness that was far from unpleasant and made the rum stand out in its own way.

As a white rum the Prata cachaça carves out some interesting territory for itself: it’s not so crude and jagged as to be off-putting to the greater public; its tastes are pleasant, yet distinct enough not to be confused with other whites; and overall, one weakness (much like the Toucan No. 4) is that for the complexity that it does exhibit, it could easily be stronger and lose no adherents.  One is left with rather more titillating sensations and vague sensory memories than an explicit and clear-cut profile, and it showcases emergent potential rather than a solid current achievement. It’s interesting to note that the company is now also producing a Still Strength version (45%) to maybe address precisely this issue, and if they are doing that, we should be keeping an eye out for what else they’re doing in the next few years.  Because if they ever have the bolas to issue this white rum’s same profile at 50% or greater, I’d probably grin, take a deep breath, and dive right in.

(82/100)

Avuá Amburana Cachaça – Review

 1 Response »
Mar 042018
 

#493

The other day I read that there are supposedly forty thousand cachaça producers in Brazil ¹ — if that statistic is actually true, then most are probably from small ops like the 500+ or so in Haiti – backyard moonshineries, rather than medium to large commercial operations. But there is no doubting that they represent a significant slice of the global volume of cane-derived spirits and it’s too bad that so few reviews of them exist (perhaps the lack of exports is to blame – most is drunk in-country; or maybe we need some Brazilian spirits bloggers).

A major characteristic of cachaças, when aged, is the resting in barrels made of local hardwoods. That peculiarity of local ageing is, to me, rather crucial when it comes to distinguishing an aged cachaca from any other rum. It’s what makes aged cachaças unique — most of us are so used to our hooch being decanted from ex-bourbon barrels, that to address a Brazilian rum for the first time can come over as a startling experience (note – I am using the term rum and cachaça interchangeably).

Take for example the Cachaça Avuá Amburana, made by Fazenda da Quinta, a small 3rd generation outfit founded in 1923, located just outside Rio de Janeiro. Their cachaça is made from two types of sugar cane, has a 24 hours fermentation period, and is pot still distilled.  As the name implies, it is aged in barrels made of amburana wood (which supposedly imparts an intense colour and flavours of sweetish vanilla) for up to two years and is bottled at 40%.

Does the amburana make for a uniquely different taste profile?  Yes and no.  It certainly presented aspects that were similar to young agricoles – fresh and crisp aromas of watery pears, sugar cane sap, swank and watermelon just to start with, clear without real sharpness.  It’s after opening up for a few minutes that it shows its antecedents more clearly, because other smells, somewhat more unusual, begin to emerge – cinnamon, nutmeg, bitter chocolate, sawn lumber, wet sawdust, freshly baked dark bread.  Not your standard fare by any means.  

The palate was quite firm for a 40% rum, stopping just short of sharp and marrying complexity with a variety of flavours in decent balance with each other. It had both red wine and muskier whisky notes, and bags of the aforementioned spices – cinnamon and nutmeg. Vanilla, ginger, sugar water, gherkins, cucumbers, a sharp cheddar, sawdust…and also a weird line of sweet bubble gum.  And, of course, some herbal grassiness – but overall the defining taste was mostly the cinnamon and swank with that slight bitter background.  This continued smoothly into a longish finish that again brought out the bubble gum, some Sprite (or 7-Up, take your pick), faint citrus, more cinnamon and vanilla, and a bit of sugar cane sap. A little dry, overall, but pleasingly complex and tasty for all that. I just wish it had been bumped up in proof a few notches – at ~45% it might just be amazing.

Tasting the Avuá Amburana blind, without some experience or comparators around, you’d be hard pressed to identify the country of origin (though the slight bitterness, woodsy taste and cinnamon background would likely give it away), and might even confuse it with an agricole – probably to the displeasure of any Brazilian. Be that as it may, I quite liked it, and since its introduction in 2013 it’s made a quiet splash in North America, as well as winning awards in 2015 (Berlin Rumfest) and 2016 (Madrid Congreso del Ron).

Brazilians involved in the production of cachaças are at pains to distinguish them from agricoles, but any casual rum aficionado would have some difficulty following the logic – after all, both derive from cane juice, distilled on either pot or column stills, the cane juice has a short fermentation time and is processed soon after harvesting.  Regulations are specific to each region: for example, a cachaça can only be called so if it derives from Brazil and at least 50% of the blend is aged for a minimum of one year, and for me that’s a naming and production convention and not a serious departure from agricoles (to use another example, calling only a rum made in Guyana a “Demerara” does not make it any less of a rum).  Also, as briefly noted above and more applicable to Brazil, a cachaça can (but does not have to) be aged in local woods like jequabita, amburana, carvalho etc, and not the more “traditional” oak barrels like ex-bourbon, ex-cognac, limousin oak, and so on – however, since the type of wood of the ageing barrel is not a disqualifier for any rum or ron or rhum anywhere in the world (except perhaps Cuba), this again seems more a local peculiarity, not a fundamental difference between the two types of rum.

So in other words, given the cane juice origin, then either cachaça is a Brazilian agricole, or agricoles are French cachaças.  To me such distinctions are geographical, not fundamental. Irrespective of the pride that the producing countries bring to their indigenous rums, production philosophies and heritage, both have interesting products that are cool to drink and make killer cocktails. That the French island rhums currently get more good press than cachaças do is no reason to ignore the latter – taken with their uniqueness and taste and wide applicabilty, something like the Avuá Amburana is good to experience if you want to go a little off the beaten track without heading into the jungle altogether.  It’s a pretty nifty cachaça that’s well worth checking out.

(84/100)

Other notes

  • ¹ Messias Soares Cavalcante, A verdadeira história da cachaça. São Paulo 2011 page 608
  • Uncoloured, unfiltered.  Small batch production.  Each bottle is numbered
  • Ralfy gave the Avua an in-depth look on his video in May 2017.
  • Matt Pietrek, the Cocktail Wonk, used this rum to provide an introduction to cachaças, back in 2015. It’s also got some good historical notes on the founders.

Neisson Rhum Agricole Vieux 2005-2014 43%

 No Responses »
Mar 032018
 

D3S_3819

Rumaniacs Review #075 | 0492

Revisited over nearly three years, the seemingly underproofed 43% 2005 Neisson has grown in my estimation; indeed, it wasn’t until I was doing up my tasting notes that I recalled the initial review (R0273 / 86 points) done back in 2015, and realized that it was even better than I recalled, back when Neisson was still too strange, too new to my agricole experience, for its qualities to shine through.  Good thing the Sage sent us some more to try, then, because perhaps now I can be more enthusiastic about it.

Colour – Amber

Strength – 43%

Nose – Starts off by being a traditional Neisson nose, all tequila, olives, brine, caramel and citrus, very well handled, nothing excessive, all in harmony.  Then things start to get interesting. Pears and hard yellow mangoes (the sort Guyanese like having with salt and a really hot pepper), chocolate, some soya.  Also tobacco, peaches, fennel and rosemary, and the thick scent of a bouquet of roses on Valentine’s Day.

Palate – Interesting three card trick here: it’s both solid and light and creamy all at the same time, and that’s not something I see often.  Salt butter, more mangoes, papayas, watery pears, citrus peel (lemon rather more than lime, I’d say), flowers, aromatic cigars and coconut dusted white chocolate.  The briny aspect takes a back seat, which is good because it allows a faint note of caramel to emerge as well.  Just lovely.

Finish – 43% isn’t going to give up much, and so the fade is short…but also quite aromatic.  Citrus, salty caramel ice cream, ripe green apples and pears.  And a hint of coffee again. It doesn’t come to an end with either a bang or a whisper, but sort of a quiet, easy lingering fade that makes you want to savour the experience.

Thoughts – After running past nine Neissons blind, it came as somewhat of a surprise to me to appreciate that this one, with the weakest ABV of the lot (by a small margin), was also the best.  There’s something about the way the bits and pieces of its profile meld and merge and then separate, giving each a small and defined moment of sunshine on nose and palate, that is really quite lovely. It’s tasty, it’s complex, it’s smooth, it’s all ’round good. It’s one of those rums I bought on a whim, was excellent then…and has grown in stature for me ever since.  Rightfully so.

(89/100)

  • WhiskyFun reviewed this rhum a few months back in a multi-rum session, here….he scored this one at 92. Future Rumaniacs reviews of the Neisson line, when others get around to them, will be posted here. Also, Laurent “The Man with a Stroller”, gave it a French language, unscored review (part three his four-part Neisson roundup, see Parts [1][2][3][4]), which is well worth a read.

Velier Guadeloupe Rhum Vieux “Basseterre” 1997 – Review

 2 Responses »
Feb 262018
 

#0491

Don’t get so caught up in the Velier’s 70th Anniversary bottlings, their dwindling Demeraras or the now flavour-of-the-month Caronis, that you forget the one-offs, the small stuff, the ones that don’t make waves any longer (if they ever did).  Just because the Damoiseau 1980, Courcelles 1972, Basseterre and Rhum Rhum lines don’t make headlines while the aforementioned series do, is actually a good reason to try and find them, for they remain undiscovered treasures in the history of Velier and are often undervalued, or even (gasp!) underpriced.

One of these delightful short form works by La Casa di Gargano is the Basseterre 1997, a companion to the Basseterre 1995, which I thought had been an excellent agricole (scored 87), if, as I mentioned in the review, somewhat overshadowed by other aspects of Luca’s oevre.  I had sourced them both, but for some reason got sent two of the 1995 and none of the 1997, and was so pissed off that it took me another two years to grudgingly spring the cash for another 1997 (if you’re interested, I gave a Danish friend the extra 1995, unopened).

The two Basseterre rhums have an interesting backstory.  Back in the mid 2000s, Velier had its relationship with Damoiseau in place and Luca, as was (and is) his wont, struck up a friendship with Sylvain Guzzo, the commercial director of Karukera, and asked him to sniff around for some good casks elsewhere in Guadeloupe. In these cynical and pessimistic times we cast the jaundiced eyes of aged streetwalkers at remarks like “he did it for me entirely out of friendship, not money” but knowing Luca I believe it to be the unvarnished truth, because he’s, y’know, just that kind of guy. In any event, some barrels from Montebello were sourced, samples were sent and a deal struck to issue them under Velier’s imprimatur.  Luca is by his own admission a lousy painter, and therefore worked with a young architectural student from a university in Slovenia to design the labels with their abstract artwork and was going to use the Montebello name on them…before that company saw the Velier catalogue, had a lawyer issue a cease and desist order, and that plan had to change on the spot.  So after considering and rejecting the name “Renegade” (maybe that would also have created problems) the label was quickly amended to “Basseterre” and so it was issued.

Anecdotes aside, what have we got here? A Guadeloupe column-distilled 49.2% ABV rhum from the Carrere Distillerie more commonly called Montebello, located just a little south of Petit Bourg and in operation since 1930.  Curiously, it’s a blend: of rhum agricole (distilled from cane juice) and rhum traditionnel (distilled from molasses).  Aged…well, what is the age?  It was put in oak in 1997 then taken out of the barrels in 2006 (again, just like the 1997 edition) and placed in an inert vat until 2008 for the two divergent strains to marry.  So I’m calling it a nine year old, though one could argue it sat for 11 years even if it was just twiddling its thumbs for two. And as noted above, there’s a reason why Sylvain’s name is on the back label, so now you know pretty much the same story as me.

Even now I remember being enthused about the 1995, though it had issues with how it opened.  That level of uncouth seemed to be under greater control here – it was somewhat sharp, sweet and salty at the same time, just not in a messy way.  The lighter sweet started to become more noticeable after it began to morph into honey and floral notes, plus anise, a little cumin, and softer, riper fruits such as bananas.  Under that was a nice counterpoint of well-behaved (if the term could be applied without smiling) acetone and rubber and an odd ashy kind of smell which was quite intriguing.  In fine, the nose was a really nice and complex to a fault, quite impressive.

I also had no fault to find with the palate which reminded me right off of creamy Danish cookies and a nice Guinness.  A little malty in its own way. It was very clear and crisp to taste, with brine, aromatic herbs (dill, parsley, coriander), spices (cumin leavened with a dusting of nutmeg), honey, unsweetened yoghurt, and a light vein of citrus, out of which emerged, at the end, some coffee grounds and fleshy, ripe fruits, all of which was summed up in a really good fade, dry and well balanced, that went on for a surprisingly long time, giving up gradually diminishing notes of anise, coffee, fruits and a little citrus.

The rum really was quite a good one, better than the 1995, I’d suggest, because somehow the complexity was better handled and it was faintly richer. It’s great that they are not well known, which keeps them available and reasonably priced to this day, but it’s too bad there were only two of these made, because unlike the Demeraras or Caronis there is not a great level of comparability to go on with.  Be that as it may, the fact remains that these smaller editions of more limited bottlings — which don’t have the hype or the glory of the great series for which Velier is justly famed — are like Stephen King’s short stories tossed off between better known doorstopper novels like “It”, “Duma Key”, “The Stand” or The Gunslinger Cycle. Yet can we truly say that “Quitters Inc” “The Ledge” or “Crouch End” are somehow less?  Of course not. This thing is a sweet, intense song on the “B” side of a best selling 45 – perhaps not as good as the bestseller which fronts it, but one which all aficionados of the band can justly appreciate. And speaking for myself, I have no problem with that at all.

(88/100)

Other notes

  • Outturn is unknown
  • Background history of the company can be found at the bottom of the 1995 review

Neisson Rhum Agricole Vieux Brut de Fût 2005-2012

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Feb 202018
 

Rumaniacs Review #074 | 0490

Almost the last of the Neissons in the current Rumaniacs lineup – and nothing at all wrong with this one either, because Neisson’s overall quality has been remarkably consistent throughout the various samples, and while there are variations in minor points throughout, the bottom line is that aged or young, strong or easy, they are all – all – of a high standard.  My love for French Island rums trends more towards Guadeloupe, but if I ever saw a Neisson from Martinique sitting on the shelf, it would always be one I gave serious consideration to buying, because I know it’ll be a cut above the ordinary, every time, no matter which one it happens to be.

Colour – Dark Gold

Strength – 45.8%

Nose – It’s hot on the initial nose, this one, quite spicy, with bitter chocolate, coffee grounds and salt caramel notes to lead in with. As is normal, resting for a few minutes allows the secondary aromas to come forward – peaches, apricots, ripe red cherries, anise and a background line of citrus and unsweetened yoghurt.  Some tequila, salt and dark damp Demerara sugar, just a bit

Palate – Umm, I like this one.  More chocolate, a little sweet – it’s warm to taste, but the spice and sharp has been dialled down some.  Sweet soya, orange peel, also coke and fanta (a kind of soda pop taste), more coffee grounds, and very little of the more herbal, grassy flavour, though some of that does poke its head up here or there like a shy gopher from its hole.  There’s also some camphor like medicine to be noted, leavened with softer hints of coconut cream and maybe bananas.

Finish – Short and easy, caramel and citrus that remind me of those chocolate oranges.  It’s a little sharp, adding a few extra fruits and lemon grass to round out the experience.

Thoughts – Some issues with the assembly here.  Not entirely enthused about the way all the various flavours careen off each other instead of holding hands and coming together. It may also be the brashness of high-spirited youth where heat and spice and integration are still being worked on.  But what the hell.  It’s still a pretty decent and complex dram for anyone who enjoys the style.

(84/100)

Neisson Rhum Agricole Vieux Brut de Fût 2003-2012

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Feb 132018
 

Rumaniacs Review #073 | 0488

So here we’re moving Neissons into the 2000’s series of rums and leaving the 1990s behind.  Those were pretty good, all of them, so did that track record of cool continue?  I think so.  What strikes me about all these Neissons of whatever age or provenance, is their overall consistency.  There are points of difference in all of them, of course, but I would be hard pressed to do a blind horizontal tasting and be able to tell you which one was which – they all cluster around the same level of quality. And no matter which one you get, there’s hardly a dog in the lineup, and if one or two don’t ascend to the heights, that’s still no reason to give them a miss.

Colour – Amber

Strength – 43.1%

Nose – This is well assembled, presenting light melded aromas of tequila (including the salt and lemon) and brown sugar, dusted with herbs: dill, sage and a little thyme.  The brininess is held back nicely and with the citrust zest threading through it, what I recall most clearly is a Thai curry with lime leaves thrown in.  Aside from these more dominant scents, there’s also some peaches, cucumbers…and a waft of a delicate perfume, like Anaïs-Anaïs, maybe.  Overall, a really good nose.

Palate – The lightness continues, if somewhat at right angles to what the nose suggested, even if much of the good was retained. Aromatic tobacco, fireplace ashes, vanilla, those herbs again, sweet red olives (the brine, it should be noted, as with the nose, was dialled down here), lemon peel, tumeric and cumin.  Although the 43.1% is a delicate in terms of the components, overall the mouthfeel seems a little rough, and I no longer wonder that it wasn’t made a shade stronger.

Finish – Light and somewhat short, no surprise.  Sugar water infused with green tea, cumin, a little fruitiness and flowers.

Thoughts – Not the best of the lot, no.  It’s got some character, a little roughness, and somewhat less of the fine integration of the 1993 (R-069) or 1994 (R-070).  But for something this young to be as good as it is, now that’s a fine feat by any yardstick.

(84/100)

Laurent hasn’t dealt with this one in his four-part Neisson roundup (see Parts [1][2][3][4]), but WhiskyFun did indeed look at it in his multi-rum session, here. He scored it 86.

St. Aubin Rhum Agricole Blanc – Review

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Feb 102018
 

#487

Yeah! It screams as you sip it, seeming to want to channel a heavy metal rock star in his prime as he puts together a yowling riff on his axe and squeals impossibly high notes into the mike like his huevos were getting crushed. Pow! Biff! Smack! went the rum on the nose.  Holy pot still Batman, what the hell was this?  I smelled hard, I blinked tears, I coughed out rhum fumes and a hundred flies died on the spot. The maelstrom of clear aggro swirling madly in my glass made me think that if I’d had the St. Aubin Blanc four years ago I would have suspected the clairins of copying them.  This rhum was a hellish, snorting magnificent, pummelling nose: olives, brine, vinegar, acetone, salt beef and garlic pork (“wit’ plenty plenty ‘erb,” as my Aunt Sheila would have said), gherkins, sugar water, and more olives, presenting like a real dirty martini.  Wow.  Just…wow.  Though bottled at a relatively bearable 50%, it was fierce and pungent and tasty and wild and definitely left the reservation far behind, just like the white Jamaicans and clairins did.

What elevated the experience of drinking it was the sensation of sampling a potent escaped white lightning while at the same time understanding (not without some wonder) that it was totally under the control of its makers (St. Aubin out of Mauritius) and no extraneous frippery of blending or touch of ageing were allowed to mess with the monster’ essential badassery.  Some of the salt  took a back seat here, the olives were toned down, and in their place emerged sharp and clear notes of wax and furniture polish, leavened by bleeding sugar cane juice, watermelon, swank, pears and a bunch of heavier fruits, hot and just starting to spoil, reminding me more of a Jamaican white like the Rum Nation 57%, or the Rum Fire, or that faithful old standby, J. Wray 63%.  Oh but this was not all.  Once it settled its hot-snot profile down to manageable levels, came to a sort of grudging equilibrium among all the fierce competing flavours, there was a last cough of cereal, biscuits, oatmeal, salted butter and a dash of cumin to wrap up the show.  And it all led to a suitably epic finish that neatly summed up all the foregoing — and so cool that the sun did shine 24 hours a day when I was trying it, and, as the song goes, it did wear its sunglasses at night.

See, while furious aggression a la clairin was not quite the blanc’s style, the sheer range of what it presented took my breath away; the balance was damned fine and the range of its flavour profile was impressive as hell.  I’ll be the first to admit that such potent whites are not to everyone’s tastes, and if you doubt that, feel free to sample a clairin or three. But man, are they ever original. They burst with crazy, are infused with off-the-reservation nutso, and when you finish one, shudder and reach for the Diplo, then whether you liked it or not you could never doubt that at least it was original, right?  That and the bitchin’ cocktails they make, is, to me, their selling point.

Because of its pot still origins and because of its relatively manageable strength, I think this thing might just be one of the more approachable whites out there, and I’d really be interested how other drinkers, writers and barflies see it.  I make a lot of jokes at Adam West’s 1960s Batman series with their hokey sound effects overlaid on the TV screen and the campy dialogue, but what we sometimes forget is that after all was said and done, even on that series somebody always got hit and somebody always fell down and there was a cool quip at the end.  I don’t have a cool quip on this one, but guys, I drank it and got hit and just about fell down.

(85/100)

Other notes

  • There are some background notes on St. Aubin in the Historical series “Mauritius” and “Isle de France” reviews for those who are interested
  • As far as I know, it’s unaged.
  • Update, May 2021: Based on current EU regulations, the word “agricole” can not be used on Mauritius to describe a cane juice based rum if they want to export there.

Neisson Rhum Agricole Hors d’Âge 1997-2012 15 YO

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Feb 072018
 

Rumaniacs Review #072 | 0486

The Neisson rhums just keep on staying at a high level of quality, no matter what the year.  This is not one of the best of the 1990s editions but it’s no slouch either and if you get it – assuming you can because my google-fu isn’t doing very well locating it – you will likely be quite pleased.  This  rhum was rested in steel tanks for a year (it was actually distilled in 1996, reports Serge) – and then put to age in 1997, hence the dating on it.  Oh and for the rabid among you – this was part of a joint bottling with Velier, so Luca’s fingerprints are somewhere on the bottle as well.

Colour – Amber

Strength – 44.7%

Nose – Starts out very agricole-like before taking what for Neisson is something a detour. Crisp and punchy nose redolent of caramel, nougat, pears, white guavas, watermelon.  There’s a thread of licorice throughout, some citrus, and also raisins, flambeed bananas and some leather and smoke.  Quite interesting.  Raises the bar for expectations of what comes later

Palate – Interesting combination of flavours, perhaps a little underwhelming given the high hopes the nose (and other siblings in the Neisson lineup) engendered. Ginger ale and Dr. Pepper; nougat, white chocolate, almonds and pralines and crumbled oatmeal cookies (yeah…odd, right?).  Again licorice makes and appearance, plus some citrus and cumin and caramel, but the distinctiveness of Neissson, that briny, olive-y, tequila-like background, is just absent.  Nor is there much of the true agricole here – the grassiness and clarity are somewhat missing.

Finish – Reasonably long-lived.  Hints of salted caramel ice cream, veggie samosas, sweet soya sauce, licorice, oranges gone off.  Strange and intriguing and somewhat tasty, just not something that hits all the high notes for me.

Thoughts – Not sure if this rhum was an experiment of some sort, or not.  A lot of things went right with it, I should hasten to add, it was fun to drink and to sample.  Although the tastes were occasionally odd, they still existed firmly within the ambit of the Neisson family overall, and in any case I’m reluctant to mark down distinctiveness just because it fails to integrate and come together into a better synthesis. Whatever the case and whatever your tastes, it’s just a little off-base for a Neisson, that’s all, but it’s still a rhum that if offered, shouldn’t be turned down.

(84.5/100)

  • WhiskyFun reviewed this rhum a few months back in a multi-rum session, here….he scored this one at 88. Future Rumaniacs reviews of the Neisson line, when others get around to them, will be posted here. Also, Laurent “The Man with a Stroller”, gave it a French language, unscored review (part two his four-part Neisson roundup, see Parts [1][2][3][4]), which is well worth a read.

J.M. Cuvée 2000 9 Year Old Rhum – Review

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Feb 042018
 

Photo shamelessly cribbed from DuRhum.com

#485

Ever notice how on the British West Indies there are just a few or just one big gun per island or country — like DDL, Appleton, Mount Gay, Foursquare, Angostura, St Lucia Distilleries, St Vincent Distillers, Rivers Royale, and so on — while the smaller islands from the French side like Martinique, Guadeloupe, Reunion and Mauritius seem to have little outfits all over the place?  I don’t know what’s behind that – maybe it has to do with the commercial cultures of each sphere.  Whatever the case, one can’t fault the results of multiple distillers competing fiercely for global bucks and worldwide street cred, because it all redounds to the benefit of us rum chums, and these distillers sure haven’t let a few centuries of experience wither on the vine and be forgotten.

Consider, for example, J.M., which is among the last of the family operated independent distillers operating on Martinique: the initials refer to Jean-Marie Martin, a previous 19th century owner, and the estate has its origins with the famed Pere Labat way back in the 1700s, though it has changed hands several times since then.  With the surge of interest in agricoles over the last five years or so their profile has been raised somewhat, with good reason – what they make is damned fine: I’ve tried just a few of their rums so far, none of which scored less than 86, and this one, issued at 47.2% is just as good as the others.

Just as a side note, there are two variations of the Millesime 2000 – one was bottled in 2009 at 47.2%, which is this one, an eight year old; and another one bottled in 2016 at a lighter 41.9%, a fifteen year old.  The one I have is something of a premium edition, a numbered bottle meant to celebrate the arrival of the 2000s, silver-wrapped green bottle and enclosure, pretty cool looking.  Samples came courtesy of (and with thanks to) Cyril of DuRhum and Laurent of “Poussette” fame, and I’ve pilfered Cyril’s picture to give you a sense of how it looks.

What was surprising about the AOC rum was how it nosed more traditionally – creme brulee and cheesecake to start with, backed up by a very light line of acetone and furniture polish (!!)…not quite the profile I was expecting.  Still, these aromas developed over time to a more commingled crushed apple juice, together with honey, raisins, cream soda, nutmeg and cinnamon, and it was all quite delicate and clear — only after about fifteen minutes or so did additional fruits, herbs and the characteristic grassy and citrus smells start to poke through, adding some nuts and light oak to the whole mix.

Tastewise it was just lovely.  Light and perfumed – the strength was perfect for what it presented –  with lots of delicate breakfast spices, grass, citrus, herbs, smoke, leather and woods.  Florals were more noticeable here, frangipani and hibiscus, plus a more salty profile taking the front seat as well – brine, olives, cream pie crust, cereals, toblerone, white chocolate and almonds.  It was very well balanced off between these tastes, and was not so much crisp as simply well integrated and easy.  The fruits in particular were hard to distinguish…they existed the notes of green grapes, some apples and pears took some time to ferret out, and I felt the vanilla became somewhat over-dominant towards the end, obscuring other aspects which worked better.  The finish gave no cause for complaint, though — short, as was to be expected, with nutmeg, vanilla, aromatic tobacco, orange zest and some more light fruits.

Overall, this was one of the better agricoles I’ve had over the years. It was another one of those JM rhums which defined itself by being quietly unique in its own way, while never entirely losing touch with those aspects of the agricole world which make them such sought after products in their own right.  Our senses are led gently through its composition, the high points hinted at without being driven home with a bludgeon and it has a quiet voluptuousness which is never punched up or intrusive. This is a rum we don’t tipple or swill or cautiously sip – we sample its languourous charms, enjoy the experience, and glide through to an appreciation of its construction.  And when it’s over and the glass is empty, we may not entirely recall the experience with clarity…we just know we would be fools if we didn’t pour ourselves another glass. It’s that kind of rhum.

(86.5/100)

Neisson Rhum Agricole Hors d’Âge 1995-2014 19 YO

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Jan 302018
 

Rumaniacs Review #071 | 0484

As we proceed down memory lane with the aged Neisson rhums, the single cask expressions begin to take on greater prominence, displacing larger-volume blended outturns with more exactingly made products for the cognoscenti. These are expensive rhums, old rhums, not easily available, and are aimed at the upper slice of the market – the 1% of connoisseurs, I would suggest.  Ordinary drinkers who just like their rums without fuss or fanfare are not the target audience – these products are made for people who are deep into their variations, for the rhum equivalent of philatelists who don’t simply go for Martinique stamps, but specifically green stamps from the second half of 1926…that kind of thing.  Because Neisson has such a wide range of ages and millesimes, these minuscule variations are endlessly debated, discussed and noted, but one thing is clear – they’re are almost all quietly amazing.  This one is no exception.

Colour – Amber

Strength – 48%

Nose – If we lose the malaria medicine I didn’t really care for in the 1992 10 YO (R-068), what we have here is something similar: a lovely rich nose redolent with promise that for once, delivers on just about everything it suggests it has under its petticoats.  Sherry, caramel and red fruit notes lead in, raspberries for tartness, cherries for depth, followed up by apples and pears, herbal and watery and grassy all at once.  Some dates, grapes, light olives, but very little of the salty tequila background I’ve mentioned many times before; and what makes this stand out is that it presents old but simultaneously feels young and vibrant.

Palate – Thrumming and deeply vibrant rhum, one wonders how they wrung such depth out of a “mere” 48% – however, I’m not complaining. Dark and hot black tea.  Ripe apricots, overripe mangoes, honey, cherries, wound about and through with citrus peel.  Also some anise, coca cola (odd, but there you are).  Dill, sage, a flirt of mint, grass, a faint wine-y tone and yes, there’s a whiff of chocolate as well.

Finish – Reasonably long.  Sums up all the foregoing.  Mostly crisp herbal and citrus notes, leavened somewhat by fleshier fruits and just a touch of brine.

Thoughts – the charcteristics of hoary old age (in rum years) are neatly set off by a taste and feel that appears much younger, fresher, and the product as a whole is given character by a great melange of crisp tastes together with muskier, more solid tones.  It’s a considerable achievement by Neisson, and my only regret is that with such a limited outturn (290 bottles) and high price (€600 or so), it’s not likely to gain wide renown.  Perhaps that’s what the Rumaniacs are there for.

(87/100)

  • WhiskyFun took a gander at a bunch of Neissons a few months back in a multi-rum session, here….he scored this one at 90. All the Rumaniacs reviews of the Neissons will be posted here. Also, my good friend Laurent from one of my favourite (and most imaginatively named) of all rum sites “The Rhums of the Man with a Stroller”, gave it a French language, unscored review (part two of his two-parter) which is well worth a read.

St. Aubin “Mauritius” Cuvée Grande Reserve 2004 Rhum – Review

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Jan 282018
 

#483

The History Collection 1715 “Isle de France” Cuvée Spéciale, in spite of being made from cane juice, reminded me rather more of an El Dorado rum than a true agricole, and with the History Collection’s 1814 “Mauritius” Cuvée Grande Reserve we’re looking at today, similar thoughts occurred to me…albeit about a different country. Perhaps that’s the marker of a rum that lingers in the mind and titillates the senses – it reminds you of something, but pinning it down proves elusive…and then it turns out to be quite a distinct product in its own right, as this one is.

So, that said, and similarities aside, it’s instructive to assess the achievement of St. Aubin in producing a rhum that — even at 40%  — was no slouch to sample: it had the same rich and fruity aromas of the Isle de France, brown sugar, cherries in syrup, pineapple, peaches, apricots, vanilla, and to distinguish it from its sibling (perhaps), also a series of coffee and musty, sawdust-y, cereal-y back-end notes.  Sprinkled with raspberries.  What with a hint of chocolate in there someplace, I was actually moving away from comparing the nose to an El Dorado, and relocating myself to Colombia, know what I mean?  This thing was like a crisper Dictador 20 with just enough of the agricole background shimmering through to provide a clue as to its origins.

The nose told a tale that would be repeated right down the line, and what I smelled was pretty much what I tasted, with a few variations here and there.  It was light and clean, yet displaying darker, muskier spicier notes as well: vanilla, coffee, licorice and some sharp tannins, with the musty long-disused-attic tastes remaining.  Some fruits – peaches and cherries for the most part – stayed in the background.  The core was anise and sawdust and unsweetened chocolate, and overall it presented as somewhat dry.  Quite nice — if it fell down at all it was in the finish, which was more licorice and chocolate, thin tart fruits (gooseberries perhaps) and after a few hours, it took on a metallic tang of old ashes doused with water that I can’t say I entirely cared for.

Some background. The date on the bottle (1814) relates to the the Treaty of Paris signed at the end of the Napoleonic Wars by the warring nations of Europe, and it was this treaty which gave Guadeloupe back to France (it had been ceded to Sweden (!!) for a while), but which also formally confirmed Mauritius to be a colony of Great Britain (who had held it since 1810). I was informed that the rhum is cane juice based, 30% pot still 10 year old from 2004, and 70% column still (stored for six years in an inert inox tank), — which therefore does not makes the rum a 10 year old in spite of the bottling in 2014, and so I have had to retitle and amend this post, after checking with St. Aubin directly. Oh and there are 5218 bottles in the outturn, so probably enough for anyone who wants one to get one.

As noted on the Ile de France, by the way, you should expect some dosing here (caramel and “natural flavours”, not sugar, I was informed), and that’s evident after some switching back and forth between a true agricole and this one…not enough to mess it up, but noticeable enough after a while.  On the plus side it gentles the whole experience down a mite, makes it smoother and quieter and more sippable for those who like softer profiles to their rums (plus of course, sweeter ones); on the negative side it dampens and mutes a profile which doesn’t really need that kind of tampering – it’s good enough as it stands.  Underneath the muffling effect of the caramel addition, you can sense what it was and what was there, but it’s like listening to music underwater…the full impact and effect of the symphony is lost. And that’s a shame because I’d be much more interested to see what it was like when pure – based on the quality of what I was sampling, that was probably quite something.

(84/100)

Other notes

As stated above, current versions of the rum are only partly 10 years old, although the components remain the same as older ones – the 10 YO pot still component replaces the 7 YO portion. The label on the bottle I was sold was an older one which is now being changed to eliminate the age statement.  So even if your label says 7, you’re not precisely getting that.

Neisson Rhum Agricole Hors d’Âge 1994-2012 18 YO

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Jan 242018
 

Rumaniacs Review #070 | 0482

The deeper one dives into the series of aged agricoles from Neisson, the more the similarities and differences become apparent.  They all have points of commonality which speak to the philosophy of the bottler as a whole, yet also aspects of uniqueness in the smaller, more detailed ways, which individual tastings done over long periods might not make clear.  Even the variations in strength create detours from the main road which only a comparison with a large sample set bring out.  What this particular series emphasizes, then, is that Neisson’s aged range is quite a notable achievement, because like exactingly chose independent bottlers’ single cask expressions, there’s hardly a dog to be found in the entire lineup, and one can pretty much buy any one of them and be assured of a damned fine rum.  As long as, of course, one’s tastes bend towards agricoles. Mine do, so on we go…

Colour – Amber

Strength – 43.6%

Nose – For an agricole, this is remarkably deep and flavourful, if initially somewhat round and indeterminate, because the aromas merge gently before separating again after some resting time.  It reminds me of the fruitiness of a cognac mixed up with notes of a good and robust red wine….plus (not unnaturally), the tequila and briny-olive-y profile for which Neisson is renowned. Further smells of sweet soya, rye bread and in the background lurk barely noticeable hints of vanilla ice cream and caramel.  Some oak in there, not enough to detract from anything, accompanied by bland fruits (bananas) and hazelnut chocolate. Plus some aromatic tobacco.

Palate – It always seems to be on the tasting that Neisson comes into its own — nosing is fun and informative, but sipping a rum is what it’s there for, right?  Starts watery and a bit sharp (odd, considering its low proof point), then settles down rapidly into a bright and crisp rum of uncommon quality. First, blackcurrants, black berries, blueberries, vanilla and caramel .  Then nuts, coffee, bitter chocolate and oak, tied up in a bow with licorice, Wrigley’s spearmint (very faint) and lemon zest. The successful balancing of all these seeming disparate components is really quite something.

Finish – Lingering, light and somehow quite distinct.  Some citrus here, caramel, a few dark fruits, and also some tart notes – sour cream and unripe mangoes in salt.  Unusual…yet it works. A good ending to a fine rhum.

Thoughts – it’s all a bit faint as a result of the low ABV, but assertive enough, complex enough, complete enough to make its own point.  This thing is almost the full package.  Aged rhum, well-known maison, complex tastes, terrific nose.  Hard to imagine it being beat easily, even by its brothers from the same maker. It is, but not easily, and I’ll save that for another quick review that’s coming up soon.

(86/100)

Other notes

  • 1000- bottle outturn These days this rhum costs upwards of €600…ouch.
  • Different label from the others we;ve looked at before…no idea why.
  • WhiskyFun took a gander at a bunch of Neissons a few months back in a multi-rum session, here….he scored this one at 90. All the Rumaniacs reviews of the Neissons will be posted here. Also, my good friend Laurent from one of my favourite (and most imaginatively named) of all rum sites “The Rhums of the Man with a Stroller”, gave it a French language, unscored review (part one of a two-parter) which is well worth a read.

St. Aubin Isle de France Cuvée Spéciale 2005 Rhum – Review

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Jan 212018
 

#481

The current focus on the Caribbean’s rums to some extent obscures interesting developments taking place elsewhere – for example the new Madeira rum from Rum Nation, French Guiana’s Toucan…and rums from St. Aubin in Mauritius, which are not particularly new, but certainly lack wider appreciation, perhaps because they don’t make it to the festival circuit as much as others do.  Anyway, this rum, the Isle de France 1715-2015 is part of their “History Collection”, bottled at 40% for a wider commercial market, and commemorates the year of establishment of French rule over Isle de France for the French East India Company — prior to that it was named L’Ile Maurice, and was a haven for pirates, smugglers and the all-round lawless (in which it parallels the Caribbean, maybe) from whom all of us low-rent rum reviewers claim descent when in our cups.

According to my email exchanges with the company, the rhum was produced from the harvest of 2005, and is a blend of two rhums – pot still (30%) aged ten years aged in ex-bourbon barrels, and column still (70%) stored in inert inox tanks; both distillates deriving from cane juice .  As a further note, although sugar was explicitly communicated to me as not being added, caramel and “natural aromas” were – so some variation from the pure is to be expected and I don’t doubt that hydrometer tests will show the dosage.

Certainly the caramel component was noticeable, and not just in the colour, which was quite dark – almost mahogany. The nose presented with sweet toffee notes almost immediately, and what was remarkable about it was also the surprising richness of it all – fruity to a fault, licorice, brown sugar, pineapple and peaches, balanced off (not entirely successfully) with oak and bitter chocolate.  The rhum smelled sweet, like overripe oranges and bubble gum and that to some extent was intriguing…just somewhat overpowering after a while.

Fortunately it smelled more saccharine than it tasted.  The palate was quite good, rather dry, and much more robust than I had been expecting from a standard strength product – sweetish, yes, also containing coconut shavings, pineapple, more peaches, light citrus, caramel and chocolate, coffee grounds, nougat, and – this is where I felt it faltered – also too much vanilla.  The oak took a backseat here, the bitterness of the nose not so much in evidence and the finish was warm, short with bubble gum, licorice and dry, woody notes that were pleasant, just disappeared too swiftly.

Overall, this is quite a pleasant rhum, and strangely enough, given its cane-juice antecedents, it reminded me a lot of the El Dorado rums, particularly the 12 year old, where the dosage was also quite obvious; and it’s somewhat of a kissing cousin to the El Dorado 15 year old with respect to its panoply of flavours, specifically the licorice and chocolate.  I think that attempts may have been made to emulate some of the high ester profile of the Savanna rums without blatantly ripping them off, and the dosage smoothened things out and provided some balance.  At end, it’s a perfectly respectable mid-tier rum which is likely to find great favour in North America, perhaps less so in Europe.

History always fascinates me, so a few details here: the Domaine de St. Aubin, named after the first sugar cane mill established by Pierre de St. Aubin in 1819 or thereabouts, is located in the extreme south of Mauritius in the Rivière des Anguilles, and has been cultivating cane since that year – however the date of first distillation of spirits is harder to pin down – it’s likely within a few decades of the original opening of the sugar factory (there are records of the Harel family starting a distillery which is now New Grove in the 1850s; they also make the Lazy Dodo brand which I waxed lyrical about last year). In the late 1960s the Franco-Mauritian Guimbeau family – who made their fortune in the tea trade for which Mauritius is also renowned – acquired the estate and retained the name, and gradually developed a stable of rums produced both by a pot still (which produces what they term their “artisanal” rums) and a relatively recent columnar still for larger volume agricoles.

It’s a personal opinion of mine that alongside St. Lucia and Reunion, Mauritius is another one of those undiscovered countries we should be watching. Every day we read about the Jamaicans, Guyanese and Bajans; we regularly get another release from the famous rhum makers out of Martinique and Guadeloupe; and we kinda wish we could get more from St. Vincent and Grenada and other smaller Caribbean islands to round out the area, sure. However, let that not blind you to treasures made on the other side of Africa, on this small, rather-off-the-beaten-track island.  Chamarel, New Grove, Penny Blue and Lazy Dodo rums are all good products, enlarging the scope of what rums are — but my advice is, don’t ignore the St Aubin rums either, because however middling my notes are, they have some pretty interesting wares, and deserve a good hard look by those who want something different and tasty, yet also not too far removed from the profiles of better known rums. It’s just close enough to more familiar products to evince a nod of appreciation and vague recall, while being a memory that remains tantalizingly elusive  “Tastes oddly familiar,” I wrote after sampling the Cuvée Spéciale, “But damned if I remember precisely which one.”  And that’s exactly as it should be.

(83/100)

Neisson Rhum Agricole Hors d’Âge 1993-2012 19 YO

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Jan 182018
 
1993 RF mod

Photo credit (C) Reference Rhum

Rumaniacs Review #069 | 0480

These double-digit aged agricoles are joys to behold (we’re talking carafe or flagon styles with fancy stoppers here), look awesome on the shelf (put these on a faux-silver salver on the sideboard with a couple other and you could pretend you’re a closet billionaire when pouring it into an ersatz crystal glass that was once a peanut butter jar), and best of all, they taste awesome, whether in a glencairn, a cut crystal Lalique, or in that old Canadian standby, a screw top jar.  I know the middle aged agricoles of around 6-12 years or so grab all the highlights because of the intersection of price and quality, but man oh man, these old Neissons are quietly, unfussily amazing on a whole different level, in their own unique way. Here is another one, distilled in 1993 and bottled in 2012…which coincidentally was the year when I discovered a near-unknown Genoese company called Velier and went quietly nuts.

Colour – Amber gold

Strength – 46.3%

Nose – This is a smorgasbord of spices and flowers and fruits held in a sort of trembling tension that somehow balances off without allowing dominance by any one thing.  It starts musky with tumeric, cumin and paprika (honest!), before Neisson remember who they are and quickly add in the flowers, almonds, tequila, brine, olives and salt caramel ice cream.  And then rush to apologize by adding green grapes, oranges and some minty chocolates…and some stale tobacco.  And off nose, whose originality could not be faulted.

Palate – By the time we get to the tasting, the rum has settled down somewhat and is a little milder and less prone to heedlessly going off in all directions. Nice though, very nice. Caramel, more brine, tequila and olives (of course – it would hardly be a Neisson to me if those weren’t there), spices, tobacco, bitter chocolate, hot black tea.  Some oak and vanilla make themselves felt, well integrated into other tastes like pears, bananas, guavas and some citrus to balance it all off.

Finish – Medium long, buttery, warm, like a good creme brulee.  Coffee grounds, cumin, light fruits, tobacco, and that’s just about it.  I was sorry to see it go.

Thoughts – There’s some variation of quality and taste profile across these aged Neissons, but the core remains remarkably consistent.  It’s like a clothes horse upon which the garments keep changing but is itself always there to lend the support they need.  A lovely piece of work that honours the Neisson line and heritage.

(86/100)

WhiskyFun took a gander at a bunch of Neissons a few months back in a multi-rum session, here….he scored this one at 89. All the Rumaniacs reviews of the Neissons will be posted here. Also, my good friend Laurent from that most imaginatively named of all rum sites “The Rhums of the Man with a Stroller”, gave it a French language, unscored review which is well worth a read.

 

Compagnie des Indes Jamaica 2003 (Long Pond) 12 YO Rum – Review

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Jan 162018
 

#479

We’re on something of a Jamaican rum kick for a week or two, because leaving aside Barbados, they’re the ones getting all the press, what with Worthy Park and Hampden now putting out the juice, Long Pond getting back in on the act, Monymusk and New Yarmouth lurking behind the scenes, and remember JB Charley with its interesting hooch? And of course behind them all, Appleton / J. Wray remains the mastodon of the island whose market share everyone wants a bite of.

While Worthy Park’s three new 2017 pot still offerings are definitely worth a buy, and Hampden is putting some big footprints into the sands of the beach, I still have a thing for Long Pond myself – this comes directly from that famous and oh-so-tasty G&M 1941 58 year old I value so highly and share around so much.  Alas, the only place one is going to get a Long Pond rum these days (until they reopen for business, for which many are waiting with bated and boozy breath) is from the independents, and Compagnie des Indes was there to satisfy the need: so far I think they have about twenty Jamaicans in the stable, of which three or four are from Long Pond and I think they’re all sourced from Scheer or the Main Rum Company in Europe. (Note: The best online background and historical data on Long Pond currently extant is on the site of that rabid Jamaican-loving rum-chum, the Cocktail Wonk, here and here).

Moving on to tasting notes, I have to say that when the bottle was cracked and I took a hefty snootful of the pale yellow rum, I was amazed at the similarity to (and divergence from) the G&M 1941 that was over four times older – there was that same wax and turpentine opening salvo which was augmented by phenols, rubber and some vague, musky Indian spices.  Honey and brine, olives, a few sharp red peppers (gone quickly), and a generous serving of the famous funk, crisp fruits and light flowers. It was well assembled, just a shade vague, as if not entirely sure what it wanted to be.

Never mind.  The palate was where the action was. Although the bottling at 44% ABV was not entirely enough to bring out all the subtleties, there was more than enough to keep the glass filled several times as I leaned back and took my time sampling it over an hour or so.  It began soft and warm with bananas, honey, whipped cream, a little salt caramel, and a little rye bread, aromatic wood chips (I hesitate to say cedar, but it was close).  Then the ester brass band came marching on through, providing the counterpoint – citrus, tart apples, cider, green grapes, and was that a flirt of cumin and curry I sensed? It came together in a nice tantara of a long, warm and spicy finish that wasn’t particularly original, just tried to sum up the experience by re-presenting the main themes – light fruity notes, some salt, olives and caramel, and a final leaf-blade of lemon peel holding it all together.

Long Pond is known for its high ester count of its rums and that over-the-top funky flavour profile, so what I tasted, tamed as it was by the relatively unassertive proof point, came as no surprise and was a pleasant reminder of how very well properly-made, lovingly-aged Jamaican rums can be. This standard proof rum was issued for the general market with 384 bottles and as far as I know there’s no cask strength or “Danish market” edition floating around.  But that’s not really a problem, since that makes it something everyone can appreciate, not just the A-types who cut cask strength rums with cask strength whisky.  Whatever you preference in these matters, the CdI Long Pond 12 remains a tasty, low key Jamaican that isn’t trying to rip your face off and pour fire down you throat, just present the estery, funky Jamaican rum in its best light…which this it does with delicacy, finesse, and no problems at all.  It’s a really good twelve year old rum.

(85/100)

Other notes

 

Neisson Rhum Agricole Hors d’Âge 1992-2012 20 YO

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Jan 132018
 

Rumaniacs Review #068 | 0478

As I’ve observed before, agricoles come into their own at a younger age than the industrielles, so a very good one can always be found in the 5-10 year old range with minimal trawling, and they’re usually sub-50% ABV, which also allows them to find a greater audience…but to find rhums ten years old and older, and from the 1990s and earlier, now that takes a little more effort.  Rest assured, the search for such agricoles is often worth it, though for a handsome decanter like this one comes in — which perhaps says something for the esteem in which Neisson hold this edition —  you are going to be set back quite a pretty penny as well.

Colour – Amber Gold

Strength – 49.2%

Nose – Somewhat startlingly, the rhum opens with a medicinal, bitter, quinine aroma that’s quite unmistakeable (and after all the years I spent getting dosed with the stuff and getting malaria umpteen times nevertheless, I know whereof I speak) but thankfully it doesn’t last long and tart fruits, flowers, caramel, brine and light citrus emerge from hiding.  There’s a richness to the nose that’s impressive, adding coffee grounds, nuts and at the last some (unappreciated) camphor and light quinine notes.  Although I can’t say I was entirely won over by it, the sumptuousness of the nose can’t be gainsaid.

Palate – No bad, overall, with brine, olives pecans and caramel leading the charge, supported by medicinals I can’t say enthused me.  The tequila-ish Neisson profile is represented in fine style, with sweet held way back in reserve, to which is added herbs, dill, unripe green mangoes, bell peppers and a good miso soup with sweet soya and a dash of lemons.

Finish – Long and fragrant, really nice denouement. Lemons, licorice, more pecans (or was that salty cashew nuts?), some sweet, caramel, bitter chocolate and coffee grounds and tequila.  Absolutely no fault to be found here. A lovely piece of work.

Thoughts – A very crisp and almost definitive Neisson, with not a year of the ageing wasted.  Only the bitterness of the quinine mar the experience for me, which says a lot about how smells really can release  less pleasant memories sometimes, and these creep into one’s unconscious ideas of “good” and bad”.  Beyond that?  A lovely piece of work.

(84/100)

WhiskyFun took a gander at a bunch of Neissons a few months back (same as I’ll be doling out over the next weeks) in a multi-rum session, here….he scored this one at 92. All the Rumaniacs reviews of the Neissons will be posted here. Also, my good friend Laurent from that most imaginatively named of all rum sites “The Rhums of the Man with a Stroller”, gave it a French language, unscored review which is well worth a read.

Renegade 2003 Monymusk 5 Year Old Rum – Review

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Jan 102018
 

#477

You’re going to read more about rums from the Monymusk distillery out of Jamaica in the next few years, I’m thinking, given how the island’s lesser-known products are emerging from the shadows; and distilleries other than Appleton are coming back into their own as distinct producers in their own right – Hampden, Longpond, Worthy Park, New Yarmouth, Clarendon/Monymusk are all ramping up and causing waves big time.  But aside from the Royal Jamaican Gold I tried many years ago (and was, at the time, not entirely won over by) and the EKTE 12 YO from a few weeks back, plus a few indies’ work I have yet to write about, there still isn’t that much out there in general release… so it may be instructive to go back in history a while to the near-beginning of the rum renaissance in 2009, when Renegade Rum Company, one of the first of the modern independent bottlers not from Italy, issued 3960 bottles of this interesting 5 year old from a pot still at Monymusk.

Even in the Scottish company it kept (and many such outfits remained after Renegade folded), Renegade was not a normal UK indie.  If one were to eliminate the dosing issue, they were actually more akin to Italy’s Rum Nation, because they married multiple barrels of a given distillate to provide several thousand bottles of a rum (not just a few hundred), and then finished them in various ex-wine barrels as part of their Additional Cask Evolution strategy. Alas, they seemed to have raced ahead of the market and consumer consciousness, because the rums sold well but not spectacularly, which is why I could still pick one up (albeit as a sample) so many years later. Moreover, as Mark Reynier remarked to me, finding the perfect set of aged casks which conformed to his personal standards was becoming more and more difficult, which was the main reason for eventually closing up the Renegade shop…to the detriment of all us rum chums.

But I think he was on to something that was at the time unappreciated by all but the connoisseurs of the day, because while agricoles aged five years can be amazing, molasses based rums are not often hitting their stride until in their double digits – yet here, Renegade issued a five year old Jamaican pot still product that was a quietly superior rum which I honestly believe that were it made today, aficionados would be snapping up in no time flat and perhaps making Luca, Fabio, Tristan, Daniel and others cast some nervous glances over their shoulders.

Anyway, let me walk you through the tasting and I’ll explain why the rum worked as well as it did.  It nosed well from the get-go, that’s for sure, with Jamaican funk and esters coming off in all directions.  It felt thicker and more dour than the golden hue might have suggested, initially smelling of rubber, nail polish, tomato-stuffed olives in brine and salty cashew nuts with a sort of creamy undertone; but this receded over time and it morphed into a much lighter, crisper series of smells – bananas going off, overripe oranges, cumin, raisins and some winey hints probably deriving from the finish. Tempranillo is a full bodied red wine from Spain, so the aromas coming off of that were no real surprise.

What did surprise me was that when I tasted it, it did something of a 180 on me — it got somewhat clearer, lighter, sweeter, more floral, than the nose had suggested it would.  Traces of Kahlúa and coconut liqueur initially, bread and salt butter, some oakiness and sharper citrus notes; this was tamed better with water and the fruits were coaxed out of hiding, adding a touch of anise to the proceedings.  Pears, cashews, guavas, with the citrus component quite laid back and becoming almost unnoticeable, lending a nice, delicately sharp counterpoint to the muskier flavours the fleshier fruits laid down.  It all led to a pleasant, tightly minimal and slightly unbalanced finish that was long for that strength, but gave generously (some might say heedlessly) of the few flavours that remained – cherries, pears, red guavas, a little more anise, and some salt.

In a word?  Yummy. It’s a tasty young rum of middling strength that hits all the high points and has the combination of complexity and assertiveness and good flavours well nailed down.  It has elements that appeal to cask strength lovers without alienating the softer crowd, and the tempranillo finish adds an intriguing background wine and fruity note that moderates the Jamaican funk and dunder parts of the profile nicely. Though perhaps the weak point is the finish — which did not come up to the high water mark set by both nose and taste and was a shade incoherent — that’s no reason not to like the rum as it stands, to me.

Anyway, in these days of the great movement towards exacting pure rums of distillery-specific,country-defining brands, it’s good to remember an unfinished experiment such as this Jamaican rum from Renegade, which pointed the way towards many of the developments we are living through now.  That may be of no interest to you as a casual imbiber, of course, so let me close by saying that it’s a pretty damned good Jamaican rum on its own merits — which, if you were ever to see it gathering dust somewhere on a back shelf, you could do worse than to snap it and its brothers up immediately.

(86/100)

Other notes

Compliments to Alex Van der Veer of Master Quill, an underrated resource of the rum-reviewers shortlist, who sent me the sample.  His own review can be found on his website and I’m nudging him gently in the ribs here, hoping he reads this and writes more, more often 🙂

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