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.

Don Q 151 Overproof Puerto Rican Rum – Review

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May 182025
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1120)(80/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

Bacardi Superior White Rum – Review

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Apr 272025
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1119)(70/100) ⭐⭐

Other notes

Amrut Two Indies Dark Rum (India) – Review

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Apr 212025
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1118)(78/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

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

Shakara 12 YO Thailand Rum (Sang Som) – Review

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Apr 072025
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1115)(83/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Other notes

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

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

 3 Responses »
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.

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

 2 Responses »
Jan 192025
 

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

Nope.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1110)(60/100) ⭐

Other notes

Opinion

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

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

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

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

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

Company Bio (from R-0984)

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

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

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

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

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Jan 172025
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1108)(84/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Other notes

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

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

 No Responses »
Jan 132025
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1108)(83/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Other notes

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

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

 No Responses »
Jan 112025
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1107)(83/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

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

Helios Distillery “Teeda” White Japanese Rum – Review

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Jan 092025
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1106)(81/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

Camikara 3 YO Cane Juice Rum (India) – Review

 No Responses »
Jan 022025
 

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

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

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

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

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

(#1105)(75/100) ⭐⭐½

Other notes

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

Company Bio (from R-1104)

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

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

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

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

Camikara 8 YO Cane Juice Rum (India) – Review

 4 Responses »
Dec 312024
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1104)(80/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

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

Company Bio (summary)

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

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

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

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

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

 1 Response »
Dec 302024
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1103)(85/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Other notes

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

Amrut Two Indies White Rum (India) – Review

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Dec 202024
 

Once again we are visiting India, to look at a rum made by the world-famous whisky producer, Amrut Distillers. The story of this remarkable company has been told already so I won’t rehash it here — but it behooves us to note that for all the ballyhoo about its whiskies (for which it is mostly and justly famed), Amrut has been making rums for far longer, dating back to its initial  establishment in 1948. Also, in a departure from Mohan Meakin (of Old Monk fame), Amrut did not descend from a British-run company from colonial times, but was and remains entirely home grown.

In years past I have looked at two rums from the company – the Old Port Deluxe, and the Two Indies rums; however, this was many years ago, and as I lurch obliviously into doddering and drooling dotage, my memory fails sometimes, so I’ll revisit those — or their current iterations — soon.  Today, however, we’ll fill a small gap in the minimal company rum stable, and review the Two Indies White, which I found at the 2024 Paris Whisky Live — this edition was issued in 2023 —  displayed with a complete lack of fanfare off to the side of more famous whiskies, on the ground floor booth of the company.

“Two Indies” is a moniker given to show off the rum’s antecedents from distillate produced both in the India (the east Indies), and the Caribbean (the west). The white rum is made somewhat at right angles from the two Two Indies variants, original and Dark, which both have at least three Caribbean components (Jamaica, Barbados, Guyana) to add to the Indian part. This one has some Jamaican rum – the distillery is never mentioned – added to a blend of Indian made sugarcane juice rum and jaggery-based rum. 

The source of the juice is the Bangalore facility where the company HQ is also located, from cane grown in their backyard, and the jaggery4 is sourced from India’s sugar city of Mandya, SW of Bangalore. All three parts are pot still distillates, which, after being made, are blended and aged for a short eight-months-to-one-year period in ex-bourbon casks. And, as is usual for India, it’s released at 42.8%, which is the Imperial 75 proof from colonial times that was never abandoned.

Although I’m sure the intentions were well meant, the rum noses as thin and weak. Initially one can sense candy floss and marshmallows, plus some light white fruits (pears, watermelon, papaya), some sweet coconut water, leavened with bananas, caramel, and some lemon zest. Behind all that are wisps of vanilla, cinnamon and cardamom, which one has to really strain to notice at all. One wonders where the Jamaicans are hiding, because weren’t they there to provide some oomph and kick and attitude?  Doesn’t feel like that at all. And the distinctive aggro of a pot still product is decidedly muted (if not absent altogether), which is disappointing, to say the least.

This general sense of puling wimpiness pervades the palate as well. The website and promo materials talk about a “herbaceous” and “vegetal” profile, which I ignore, because it certainly doesn’t taste that way. Oh, we have some easygoing pears and guavas, an intriguing series of notes that channel fresh Danish cookies and pastries, and a light set of spices, but the crisp grassy notes of a true agricole are not in evidence. On the contrary, it’s underpowered and the profile suffers for that; this thing needs to be stronger, otherwise the whole thing, including the finish, is like unsatisfying coitus — brief, barely noticeable as an experience, and by the time you get a head of steam going, it’s over. There are some light fruity notes and a bit of spearmint gum as consolation for disappointed participants – I guess that’s something.

Granted the rum is relatively cheap and made for the cocktail and backbar circuit (it costs about €30), so as an interested reviewer I guess I’d buy it, try it … and then trade it or sample it off. The low strength and general youth and lacklustre profile are not to the rum’s advantage, and whatever the Jamaican portion of the blend is — on the website they stated it was added to “infuse the blend with its powerful, fruity esters” – it’s too little to put an exclamation point to the rum’s taste. It tries to take the best of three different rum styles, and succeeds at none of them, which suggests to me that perhaps it would be better to try and keep the rum as a pure Indian expression rather than try and jazz it up as some kind of exotic blend. Keep this rum on the bar as a mixer if you want, but me, I’d keep it there for something to juice up a cocktail, nothing more.

(#1102)(75/100) ⭐⭐½

Other notes

McDowell’s No.1 “Celebration” Matured XXX Dark Rum (India) – Review

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Dec 092024
 

N4026

Background

In the various reviews of the rums made by Old Monk, Camikara, Makazai, Amrut and Rhea, the observation was made (several times) that Indian rums don’t really have that good a reputation outside their country of origin, especially recently with the move towards greater transparency and purity. The rums there just never really go critical outside the diaspora and are viewed in many quarters inside and outside India as (at best) second tier also-rans.

There are several reasons for this. For one, In India itself rum has always been seen as a commoners’ drink, not a premium one, with all the snobbery this implies (it’s no accident that Amrut supercharged its whiskies’ reputation by first making them reputable outside India). Secondly, the financial incentives are minimal when the companies that make these products have what amounts to a near captive market of many hundreds of millions of local drinkers – why would they export when they can make easier money selling in-country?  And thirdly lack of awareness and lack of perceived quality go hand in hand with a dearth of information about how the rums are made – few companies give out any kind of information about that aspect of things (although colourful origin stories are legion).

Yet the country cannot be ignored forever. Companies like Piccadilly, Mohan Meakin, Amrut and United Spirits (owned by Diageo) are global sellers and massive conglomerates, irrespective of what they make. And so it behooves us to know more about the rums they make, be they ever so humble. This is one of them.

The Rum

Although “humble” may not be the exact word to use for McDowell’s No.1 “Celebration”, the flagship rum made by United Spirits (of which Diageo owns a controlling stake). The rum, first introduced in 1990, is one of only a few made by the company – the others are a white rum called “Caribbean,” a Gold called “Cariba”, and an aged “Old Cask” about which little is known except it was first released in 2004. There are likely others – we just don’t see them very much. But the Celebration is touted as the top selling rum in the world and I’ve seen news articles that proclaim the millions of cases it sells annually, so certainly it’s an elephant among field mice, and does brisk business.

That said, there’s the usual annoying paucity of production details. We know it’s made from molasses, though some dispute this and suggest jaggery may be the true source material. My understanding is that for such mass-market rums, a multi-column still uses molasses to get to 95% ABV or so, and then it’s aged, coloured and blended. What it’s blended with is a subject of some debate – it’s been said that “real” spirits are added, spices, flavourings, take your pick – the lack of disclosure is a common feature in the country were a bottle of this stuff can retail for under two bucks. Also, McDowell’s has 36 manufacturing centres across India and a score or so distilleries, so where exactly it’s made is unclear – Chip Dykstra, in a 2011 review, said it was made in Goa, without attribution. And it’s released at 42.8%, which, as I noted before, is a standard in India and equates to 75 degrees proof in the old Imperial system, which was never quite abandoned.

Even with the slightly-over-living-room-strength, it’s thin pickings on the nose. It smells vague, even indeterminate, first of plastic and detergent, and then of warm caramel drizzled over vanilla ice cream. A few fruits – cherries, ripe red grapes, tangerines – disturb the flow, but after a few minutes it’s paint on new drywall, plasticine, and the scent of a well oiled leather couch that’s old enough to leak some stuffing. It is, in short, a very weird smelling rum and one can only wonder how it beat out Old Monk, which is somewhat more “traditional” in its aromas.

Anyway, on tasting it, that thin profile persists – it’s as scrawny as a hungry cur in a dark alley. Yet some flavours make it through, and this is where we can detect some spices: cardamom, vanilla, salted caramel are the predominating notes; there’s damp tobacco and black tea, a touch of brine (no olives), and not a whole lot of fruitiness, crisp or tart or otherwise. There is some sweetness to it, but not a lot (and a hydrometer tests it as clean), and it goes down easily enough, just without any sort of flavours to excite the palate. Even the finish displays that sort of lacklustre “it’s okay” kind of vibe – short, easy, unaggressive, lots of caramel and vanilla and a few spices to round off the dram.

Reading the notes above, you can see why — even if it is the top selling rum in the world — it is met in the west with a shrug and a meh (if not outright disdain). One must concede that it’s a rum made originally for the indigenous market, where a different mindset exists on how it should be made, or taste like — and where those tastes are considered desirable; those who adhere to its unthreatening, easy charms won’t worry too much about disclosure or distillation or additives. Myself I just wish they would tell us – I mean, my God, we’re almost in 2025, dammit, why does this continually have to something we have to beg for?

Summing up this overlong piece, let’s just say that yes, it’s a reasonable rum, sure it is, just not one that rings the bells and makes for happy “wow!” moments and high fives. You can sip it easily enough and it tastes decent enough, if somewhat different than the norm. It simply lacks what one lady I know tartly refers to as “seriousness.” It’s all promises and no follow through, resting its dandified laurels on the bartop, while resolutely refusing to pony up when the bill comes due. If this rum was her boyfriend, she’d tolerate it for a while, and dump him the following week.

(#1100)(79/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

Company Bio (summarized from a longer work in progress)

McDowell’s has its origins way back in 1826 when Angus McDowell founded the firm in what was then called Madras (now Chennai). Initially the company didn’t make anything, just imported liquor, tobacco products, and various other consumer goods into India for the expatriate British population. It was clearly successful enough to form itself into a Limited company in 1898 and continued trading until after Independence – however, in 1951 Vittal Mallya of United Breweries Group bought the company and named the combined entity United Spirits Limited. 

The first distillery was built in Kerala in 1959 and initially USL made spirits under contract. By 1963 they were confident enough to launch their own brandy (called “Golden Grape”) and slowly expanded their capacity by buying other spirits making companies, while also building new distilleries and distribution networks.  However, so far as I can tell, rum was never a branded product in the portfolio identified with USL – what was produced stayed with the acquired companies’ already established brands.

The next generation of the family began to become active in 1973 when Vijay Mallya became a director of McDowell’s (as the subsidiary continued to be called – there was no opprobrium attached to the company name as had attended Dyer Meakin, so no reason, apparently, to change it), and ten years later he took over the whole company as chairman. The Celebration branded line of rums came out during his tenure and their distribution had expanded to the point where by the 2010s they had not only exceeded Old Monk’s sales, but had actually overtaken Bacardi as well.

Cash flow problems and declining sales (as well as some poor business decisions and scandals) in the early 2010s eventually forced Vijay Mallya to sell a majority stake in the Group to Diageo, and that’s the situation today.

 

Old Sam Demerara Rum (Rebranded) – Review

 No Responses »
Nov 152024
 

The other day I did a Rumaniacs retrospective on Edward Young & Co. Blue Mountain Old Liqueur Jamaican Rum dating back to the 1940s, made by an outfit founded in 1797. In doing the usual background research I found that one of my favourite low rent Canadian rums – the Youngs Old Sam – was originally made by the same company, and the current iteration’s label more references this connection more concretely than the original did.

That said, the pickings remain oddly thin. According to those sources I checked, the Newfoundland & Labrador Liquor Corporation (NLLC) picked up the brand in 1999 and have marketed it it as Young’s Old Sam ever since – until, that is, in 2021, when — with increased social consciousness arising from the BLM movement — the stylized drawing of a man on the original yellow label came under fire for being racially insensitive, and was promptly removed…although why they bothered is a mystery, since the “Old Sam 5” has the same drawing on it to this day. Anyway, the current label of this bottle has no graphics of any kind, just text: it says it’s “Old Sam Demerara Rum” (they dropped the “Young” for some reason, and I wonder, do they have permission to use the term “Demerara Rum”?) with additional text stating “Edward Young & Co, London and Liverpool, England.”  

But when all is said and done, it’s a blended Guyanese rum aged for 1-2 years, with distillate wholly or partly from the Enmore coffey still, and is bottled at 40%. For now I’ll accept it was aged in Guyana, if only because the NLLC website makes no mention of warehousing and ageing facilities of its own. The rum, by the way, is also quite dark, which means that it’s been coloured to conform to some non-knowledgeable dweeb’s perception that Demerara rums should be deep brown, or to pretend it’s aged more than it has been.

It noses very much like a Demerara rum, and has all the usual notes one would expect where some wooden still action is doing the tango. Initially the deep scents are of coffee grounds, plums, licorice, brown sugar, and cinnamon. Then, after letting it stand for a bit you can smell some bitter chocolate and well polished leather, and later still there are hints of burnt (yes, burnt) pastries, toffee, caramel, red wine and vinegar. But no real wooden still notes of the kind I would have expected from the Enmore still, not really. Certainly nothing along the line of pencil shavings, wet sawdust or freshly sawn timber.

The palate is less in all ways. It’s rather thin, and scratches bitchily at the tongue as if wanting nothing better than to be gone (and it is). It’s a touch salty, has dark fruits, raisins, figs and sweet soya notes.  Perhaps with some effort you can find the coffee grounds and unsweetened chocolate again, but overall, it’s just a bunch of scrawny but familiar flavours, held together with string, bailing wire and duct tape. It’s not a sipping rum by any means, as the hasty scramble for the exit demonstrated by the lacklustre finish amply demonstrates – it vanishes fast, with just the faint memory of dates, coffee, sweet soya and vanilla left behind (and that not for long).

All right, so perhaps that’s a bit snarky of me too. After all, it’s a low-priced young rum that is made to be put into a Cuba libre or whatever, and at that it does a decent job. And it does have some nice flavours for those who are (like me) somewhat enamoured of the Demerara style rum profiles. But I have to say that it seems a bit too confected to take at face value, and the taste doesn’t really live up to what the nose implies. The original unscored review I wrote was mildly positive about it (admittedly I was somewhat wet behind the ears at the time), but a decade and a half later I can’t really say that it should rate above 80 points, with the caveat that if you are more into cocktails, you might want to bump it up a notch.  That’s about as fair as I can be about it.

(#1099)(78/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

  • Video Recap is here. 
  • The rum tests out at 38.8% ABV, which indicates something else (~8 g/L) is in there besides the rum. That might account for the thick smoothness the nose suggests.
  • The back label says the rum is a “unique blend of rums…distilled on the world’s last operating Wooden Coffey Still…aged for a minimum of two years in oak barrels.” We need to unpack that brief declaration. For one, the company’s own website says that the blend includes “one of the marques […] produced…on the world’s last operating wooden coffee still” (sic) (while the label implies it’s all from that still); and specifically mentions that it’s aged for at least fifteen months, not two years, thought it adds that ageing is done in Guyana. Given that of late I have heard DDL is no longer exporting bulk rum from the heritage stills, one wonders if this situation can continue – though it is likely that for long term favoured clients, the rules may be bent.

Company Bio (summary)

Rock Spirits is the manufacturing arm of the NLLC which is a provincial crown corporation (effectively a government liquor monopoly, like the LCBO in Ontario) and is the only such corporation with its own manufacturing and bottling division. It was founded in 1954 and currently owns some fifteen brands sold across Canada, including rums like Screech, Cabot Tower, London Dock, George Street, Ragged Rock. Almost all of these are from Guyanese stocks, which implies a long standing relationship with DDL. 

They also have partnership agreements with other brands, which is why Smuggler’s Cove Rum from Glenora Spirits in Nova Scotia is apparently made in Newfoundland (and this makes sense since they don’t list it, or any other rum, on their own website, as they rather embarrassedly did back in 2010 when I first looked in on them). While it’s not stated outright anywhere, it’s likely that they provide blending services and bottling runs for other companies as well.

 

Edward Young & Co. Blue Mountain Old Liqueur Jamaican Rum (1940s/1950s)

 1 Response »
Oct 302024
 

Rumaniacs Review #R-163 | 1097

A good part of the label is missing, but even without that, this is what we know: it’s a rum branded “Blue Mountain Finest Old Liqueur Jamaica Rum” which popped up on one of the two “old rums” auction-site booths I patronised at the 2024 German Rum Festival (unlike the token system at other commercial brands’ booths, here one had to fork out actual coin for one’s dram). It was hand-dated 1930s / 1940s, and the proof point was not noted (the torn label’s missing portion probably had all that). 

Still, using that limited data set I was able to find an almost identical label (minor differences in text layout and colours), which came from a bottle of rum made by a UK company called Edward Young & Co. in the 1940s. Following that company’s filings suggested it existed between 1888-1986, except that other labels and logos made a better case that it had originally been founded in 1797 and officially registered in 1885; by 1936 they were exporting to other parts of the British Empire, including Ceylon and Canada

Unfortunately, there’s nothing deeper – names of founders, 20th century owners, addresses, etc, are all hard to unearth without paying for it, and the company is now inactive. Their blurb does mention they were “distillers and wine, brandy and rum shippers”. The dating of the1940s for this bottle seems about right, but I believe the 1930s is more conjectural.

There remain unknowns: the strength was on the missing part of the label, and other variations of this rum were made, some at 70° proof (40% ABV), others at 35%. Based on my tasting and the label, I’d say 40%. Also, the estate / distillery of origin is never mentioned – in the 1940s there were more distilleries in business than currently, blending multiple sources was common and mentioning a single distillery or estate was not a thing, so for me to say more would be rank speculation – there simply is no information to be going on.

Other points of interest:

The use of the word “liqueur” to denote a more refined and upscale rum was common at one time (the famous Wray & Nephew 17 YO was called a “liqueur rum” for example. If you’re interested, see Matt’s excellent article on the subject) but during the 1960s it appears to have faded into disuse and now the word has a distinct meaning of its own, clearly separated from rum as we understand it.

Edward Young & Co were the originators of one of my favourite low-end mixing staples, the Guyanese / Canadian Young’s Old Sam, which came under the umbrella of the Newfoundland Liquor Corporation in 1999 – to this day the rum’s label sports the date of founding and the name of that original company. However, since there is no Edward Young any longer, and the rum is bulk stock shipped by DDL to Newfoundland for bottling and blending (instead of via the UK as was once the case), one can only assume that the label has all that on it for consistency and as a line to the past – not out of any sense of current commercial reality. But honestly, I sigh when I read stuff like that – I’d love to know more about the connection and its background.

Rum Auctioneer and other auction sites have had the rum or a variant of it for sale a few times. A 1947 edition sold in 2023 for £470, anther for £310 and the Old Spirits Company, in an undated post, advertised another for sale at $2,761 (assumed US$).

Colour – dark brown

Strength – Assumed 40% ABV / 70° proof

Nose – Even taking into account its provenance and relatively mild strength, this is a serious rum. Opens with pungent fleshy fruits – peaches, apricots, range peel, tangerines. Salt, leather, plastic, olives, rubber, and a mild briny solution

Palate – Thin and underpowered, but with many of the same notes. Oranges, candy, flowers, some plastic and rubbing alcohol.  Slightly sweet, some leather and smoke, a touch of bitterness and vanilla from the barrel, but nothing untoward.

Finish – as short and brisk and purposeful as a salaryman’s stride.

Thoughts – Little identifies this as one distillery or another, and indeed, I do believe it’s a blend of pot and column still sources. The nose is really good and the palate, for all the brevity of my description above, does present with authority and verve. Really good rum to taste, not least because it shines a light into what taste profiles were eighty years ago, and how they have developed since then.

(#1097 | R-163)(87/100)

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Don Q Gold Puerto Rican Rum – Review

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Oct 222024
 

Americans know the Puerto Rican company of Don Q quite well (it is named after Don Quixote, which always struck me as odd, but never mind), and are usually quite enthused with it since it’s an alternative to the ubiquitous Bacardi, as well as supplying them with another Cuban-style rum. Europeans on the other hand, know of the brand without being overwhelmed – they do, after all, have access to better tipple than most — and the rest of the world, I would imagine, falls somewhere in between.

Still, it’s worth keeping an eye on companies that at first sight seem to be aping Bacardi’s mass market appeal and rum-making style. Distileria Serrallés, after all, predates Bacardi on the island — the family patriarch was there since 1820 and his son produced Serrallés’s first rum in 1865 — and is considered to be the most popular rum in Puerto Rico. And the stuff they make regularly turns up on many lists of good rums to try, rums to start with, or to always have on the shelf.

Not too long ago I went through a fair bit of the company’s bottlings, so in this upcoming series of reviews, I’ll start low and work my way up. Today’s rum is simply called the Gold and is part of their “traditional” range which also includes the white Cristal and the stern overproof of the 151. After that everything except the flavoured range is lumped into the Serrallés Collection, but pretty much all of what they make is short-fermentation, molasses-based, column-still product. The variations come from post-distillation barrel and wood management, not earlier stages in the production process, which is par for Latin / Spanish style rons.

The Gold is a rum blended from components aged from 1½  to 5 years in ex bourbon barrels, and is bottled at a mild living room strength of 40% – in that sense it’s similar to the (filtered) Cristal, except that they note it’s been distilled to have more flavour (and then filtered). This suggests that they are using the first column of the 1934 Vendome still to producer a heavier aguardiente to blend into the final product, which makes sense.

But does that translate into a profile where this is evident? To some extent, yes – as long as expectations are tempered to begin with. Consider the nose — the website talks about “rummy flavours” (with all the usual additional superlative adjectives) but here, that’s pretty much what you’re getting. The majority of the aromas revolve around notes of caramel, toffee, vanilla, some cinnamon and a touch of oakiness – can a more standard rum profile be described? Even after standing for a while, there’s not a whole lot more, unless it’s some weakly aromatic light flowers and watery fruits…pears, mostly.

The way it tastes follows on from there. It’s similar to the nose perhaps a bit more tobacco and oak forward. The word that occurs to me is “bright” – it has a sort of scintillating sharpness to the way it tastes that is ameliorated by the easy strength, and the flavours are reasonably distinct: vanilla, toffee, salt caramel, not much more, except a very slight and sharp citrus line. And so the finish cannot be expected to provide more, and it doesn’t – it’s quick, light and gone in no time.

As a sipping rum, this is too thin and light to appeal, but of course it’s in a mix that it shines. It’s perhaps too much to expect a very young blended column still rum to wow my socks off – few Gold rums ever have. They tend to be mass-market mid- to low-range efforts: almost always blends, relatively young, very affordable, found just about everywhere. Their job is not to be a sipping agent but a basic bar staple, and their quality varies wildly. In this example, what we have is a rum I wouldn’t drink neat, one that hints at more upscale work elsewhere in the company’s stable: it has the glimmering of a complex nature that for itself, never quite comes to the fore.

(#1095)(78/100) ⭐⭐⭐

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