Oct 282024
 

With the upcoming release of the new 2024 Australian Advent calendar, I should speed up the process of writing about the 2023 calendar, where we still have about four to go. And so today, I return to one of the first producers whose rums I tried back with the initial calendar, JimmyRum, that casual, humorous, insouciant little distillery down in the south (see a brief bio below the review).

Several ranges of rums are now part of the distillery’s stable, and you want to be careful with them, because while they are clearly and distinctively named — Queen’s Cut, Oaked, Cane ‘n’ Grain, Silver, RumRum and so on — these series are individually issued in batches. And while those batches are identified on the website, I’m not sure whether it’s as clearly noted on the labels, or whether the year is identified anywhere. It can cause confusion to the casual buyer.

Anyway, this rum is Batch #4 and it can be considered part of the “standard” lineup with none of the flourishes or other touches that set apart more romantically named editions (like the Navy or Queen’s Share.e.g.). As noted in my previous reviews, the molasses derives from Sunshine Sugar in New South Wales, and the wash is done in two 5000-litre fermenters, which are temperature controlled to less than 25°C with an initial Brix of approximately 19. Distillation remains on “Matilda” (the 1500 litre Italian-made hybrid still), and ageing is for a minimum four years in four ex-bourbon 200L American oak casks – these were initially filled at 65% ABV, in this case the rum was reduced to 50.3% ABV specifically for the Calendar. It’s also an unfiltered version, hand bottled and hand labelled. Cute. 

Publicity photo (c) JimmyRum

I’ve quite liked JimmyRum from the inception (the Silver scored 79, the RumRum 3YO nabbed 84) and they have kept on creeping up the scale with this one, because it’s a really nifty piece of work. It has, for example, a dusty opening nose, like a wooden barrel filled with apples in the cellar. There are spices, strawberries, peaches, apricots, kiwi fruit, freshly sliced pineapple skins, and to that is added a mild citrus note of 7-Up sugar water and zest. As if this was not enough, a kitchen sink floats by, filled with laban, miso soup, sour yoghurt, sweet balsamic vinegar (the kind that has essence of, say raspberries in it) and whipped cream sprinkled with cinnamon and lemon peel. It really is an aromatic rum.

And the palate is also nothing to sneeze at either: honey, tawny wax notes, brown sugar, brine and olives. Freshly baked croissants with butter, maple syrup, strawberries, butterscotch and vanilla, some bitter chocolate and coffee grounds, set off by the faintest sweet-sour note of a freshly cracked tamarind pod (and that’s not a bad thing in this context, really). The finish is all right – neither overstaying its welcome, nor being overly shy. There are hints of tamarind, ruby grapefruit, apricots, vanilla and cinnamon; not a whole lot more, though, and it leaves without breaking new ground or making any larger statement for itself.

Well, I quite liked this one. Young rums don’t always get a good hearing – witness my own occasional shredding of cheap mixing-grade blends like ambres, golds or other young cocktail fodder made with equal parts indifference and disrespect – but I do find that smaller distilleries often provide a good product. Like here, where we get lots of flavours, a solid strength and more than enough quality to set it apart from others its own age. If I had a quibble, it’s that Golds are cheaper mass market rums that can be had for peanuts, while something like this, even for its youth, costs way over a hundred hucks in Australia (so God knows how much it’ll be when we get it out west)

Still, in re-tasting it, I once again note that there’s a lot of breakfast on this tray. It’s a voluptuous, tasty, well-balanced treat; and while my imagination may be overactive, it’s no small thing for a rum, any rum, by itself, to so easily evoke the kind of autumn thoughts this one does. I keep daydreaming of a confident and beautiful woman in a green coat walking home from work on a crisp cool evening, treating herself to a bag of freshly baked pastries, fruits from the grocery, and a hot toddy steaming in her hand. What can I say? Rum does that to me sometimes. So pardon me while I close this review, lean back to finish my sample, and indulge them some more. I think I want to meet this rum…and maybe, one day, the woman too.

(#1094)(85/100) ⭐⭐⭐½


Other notes

  • Video Recap is here. 
  • From Day 20 of the 2023 Australian Advent Calendar 
  • As of the time of this writing in October 2024, JimmyRum’s website is selling RumRum Batch#5

Company Bio (summary)

JimmyRum is a very new distillery, established around 2018 in Dromana, a small community just south of Melbourne by James McPherson, a former marine engineer. In 2015 or so, after some twenty years sailing the high seas as a Chief Engineer, he decided (initially as a joke) to open a distillery dedicated to rum, a first (and the first) in the state of Victoria. His research relating to rum took him on a whirlwind 3-month 70-distillery tour of the world after which he bought the biggest still he could afford from Italy (before he had actually done a lick of distilling himself), installed it and ran it in, arranged for casks, sources of supply, tested the results and started making stock to lay down to age.

Oct 142024
 

There are not many distilleries in Australia who are known outside of the region – Bundaberg is probably the most famous, Beenleigh is gaining recognition, and of course there are other small operations which the magnificent Advent Calendar from Mr and Mrs Rum have allowed greater visibility. Killik, Cabarita, Brix, Hoochery, JimmyRum and many others.

One of these, about which I have already written twice, is Husk Farm Distillers; they are one of the older of  New Australians, dating back to 2009 when the founder, Paul Messenger, was ensorcelled by Martinique’s agricole rhums and spent the next few years establishing a small distillery in Tumbulgum in northern New South Wales (about 120 km SE of Brisbane) which was named “Husk” when it opened in 2012. Its uniqueness was and remains that it uses its own estate-grown sugar cane to make rum from juice, not molasses, and is an integrated producer unbeholden to any external processing outfit for supplies of cane, syrup, juice or molasses. Initially they used a 1000L Spanish made pot still but as their popularity grew it was replaced with a 6000L Scottish Forsyth hybrid still built in Rothes to Messenger’s specifications.

2021 Edition

What this all leads to then, is something rather unusual, if not outright unique (for Australia) – a pot still distilled cane juice rum, unaged, bottled at 50%. For the geek squad, there are more details below in the Other Notes section, but when one considers how column stills are so common, molasses is used for sheer convenience and ageing is at least for a few years prior to bottling…well, you can understand how interesting this is.

Except that as I have noted before in both the Bam Bam and the “Lost Blend” reviews, there’s a curious lack of agricole-ness to Husk’s rums … and this one does not buck the trend. The nose demonstrates a good initial pot still vibe: varnish, fresh plastic, rubber, some acetones, which is all nice. Gradually, as it opens up one can sense red grapes, overripe apples, raisins, sugar water, a touch of tequila (yes it does), and a light citrus through line. At some point there’s paper, cardboard and the dustiness of old rooms wafting through. Citrus peel, liquid soap and hand lotion…and ashes, with rain drops sizzling on a glowing campfire.

2020 Edition

The palate maintains this intriguing profile, perhaps even more so. Initially the taste is slightly sweet and salt, medicinal, combining light iodine notes with gherkins, ginger, anise and even wasabi, but there is also cinnamon, honey, sugar water, and a moist cheese – let’s settle on brie for now. If you stick with it you may sense a last touch of some pastries, dusty cupboards, before it goes off the reservation with red olives and (I swear I am not making this up) – freshly cut radishes. The finish is relatively tame after all this rather startling smorgasbord of competing aromas and flavours, and plays it pretty much safe – medium long, some sugar water, cucumbers in white vinegar, a few grapes and apples, and that’s pretty much it.

Not sure which year this is from, but it looks current….

Peculiar, to say the least, lacking a whole lot of herbaceousness or grass or “green” notes such as distinguishes most agricole rhums from traditional sources. Initially I thought – and my notes reflected – that the rum lacked character, but that’s not really it. A second, and then a third re-taste made me modify that view, because what it did, and what it does, is upend expectations, especially for a white unaged rum for the style of which i have a sneaking love, and more than a little experience.

The rum is aromatic, tasty, it is at right angles to regular agricoles, and shows that there are still new ways we can experience familiar profiles. Not all the elements mesh completely together and occasionally I feel that the makers tossed everything except the kitchen sink into the mix to see what would come out the other end, not entirely successfully – but in no way is this a fail or something to decry. Overall, as an unaged white rum, as a cane juice product, as a rum, Husk has created a curious amalgam that works, and works well.  We owe it to ourselves to try such a rum at least once, if only to admit there are still discoveries to be made along the many varied branches of the great rum tree. 


(#1094)(85/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Other notes

  • Video Recap is here
  • From Day 2 of the 2023 Australian Advent Calendar 
  • The main cane variety used is Q240;  selected for its high sugar content and adaptability to the region.Wild yeast from the paddock plays a role in the fermentation process, but additional yeast is added after crushing. Three day fermentation period. The distillate is rested, slowly reduced, and stirred in a stainless-steel tank for a minimum of six months, before bottling. Non-chill filtered. No other ingredients or additives added.
  • Husk Pure Cane has been in production since 2017. The label keeps changing so I’m not sure what the 2023 edition looks like, but in the review are a few examples.
Aug 072024
 

The last time we looked in on the small urban distillery called Brix (located just due south of the Sidney Opera house, a stone’s throw off Flinders Street for those who like their geography straight), they were messing around with their unaged rum called the Urban Cane, which I quite liked. Here now we have a young aged rum, which turns out to be quite a nifty little number.

In the years since they began operations in 2017, Brix have significantly added to their portfolio: now they have a spiced rum, a mango (infused/flavoured) rum, a standard Australian rum, the aforementioned cane spirit, liqueurs, and a series of finished rums called the Select Casks. Plus ready to drink cocktail cans, branded glencairns, hats, t-shirts, tote bags and yes, for those who like going places and giving lousy presents — a t-shirt. Capitalism is alive and well in downtown Sidney.

As I noted with the first review, they had a sort of yuppie inner city vibe that contrasted interestingly with the more down to earth family ethos characteristic of so many of Australia’s current microdistillers (especially those in Queensland and elsewhere).  And I also made that comment because it sure seemed like they built an entire pub / restaurant / bar establishment around their 1800 litre still (“Molly” – don’t you just love how Aussies name their stills?  When was the last time you saw a Caribbean outfit do that?).

Leaving aside all these throwaway details, what we have here is a rum deriving from refinery grade molasses sourced from Bundaberg, fermented using champagne and Caribbean yeasts, the wash from which was then run through the aforementioned hybrid still, then aged three years in 225L French oak Shiraz barriques from Brokenwood Wines , plus another two months in 38 year old 500L Tawny puncheons. The final result was bottled at 48.1%, and the label says 1136 bottles – and for the record, the release won a Gold Medal in the 2022 Australian Distilled Spirits Awards.

Photo (c) Brix Distillers, from their FB Page

Those wine casks must have quite an influence, because I must concede there’s a fair bit to unpack when sampling it.  Nose first: it has a nicely traditional rummy nose with all the bits and trimmings – honey, fruits, caramel, cinnamon, vanilla, light molasses, and red grapes. This is then followed up with sweet raspberry jam and orange peel, and has a pleasant breakfast whiff of syrup over hot, freshly-made pancakes, and butter melting in a steaming bowl of cream of wheat…that kind of thing.

The palate settles down somewhat and isn’t quite on the same level, yet it still presents some pleasant, interesting tastes. Initially we get caramel bonbons, nuts, almonds, unsweetened chocolate, toasted rye bread with salted butter. The wine and port casks bring out the fruits again – somewhat indeterminate to be sure, yet subtly shading the whole, and somehow I am reminded of the delicate watercolours of Turner or Durer versus something more savagely elemental such as the oils of, oh, Caravaggio. And then there are notes of figs, brown sugar, cinnamon, even nutmeg and key lime pie which lead to a gentle, easygoing finish that’s sweet and light and redolent of pastries and soft red grapes.

It’s a nice, pleasant little sipping rum, this one, and the strength is just about right. I genuinely enjoyed it, because it presented us a traditional series of tastes without entirely giving itself over to a standard profile.  There’s a bit of edge here, a slight swerve away from the ordinary, and it speaks really well for the aged rums that we can expect to see from this little distillery in the future. I’m going to enjoy looking out for the next one from Brix.


(#1085)(84/100) ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

  • Video Recap is here. 

Company background

The distillery was founded in 2017 after two years’ worth of planning and setup, by James Christopher, Damien Barrow and Siddharth Soin, three friends who are also partners in a popular local restaurant. They sourced an 1800-litre copper pot still made in Australia (called “Molly”) and forged direct connections with suppliers and growers so as to source local ingredients as far as possible: Australian molasses and organic sugar cane from their supplier, a farm in Woongoolba close by the Rocky Point sugar mill (Southern Queensland, just south of Brisbane), locally-made spices, barrels and everything else they need. Their outturn includes a limited edition white cane juice spirit (“Urban Cane,” issued annually ), a white mixer, a lightly aged gold and a spiced rum, plus some flavoured mixes. There’s more ageing out back, and I’m sure we’ll see that in the years to come, as rum education and rum improvement are part of what Brix is all about as well.

Jun 212024
 

Those with pachyderm memories will recall that the 2021 Australian advent calendar also had a rum from Yack distillery, also called “Tavern Style”, but a much earlier batch, the No. 5; and even though the website only goes up to Batch #008, this one is assuredly newer.

I’ll place a recap of the distillery background below this review so you can read faster, and for once I’ll keep things short.  Basically, there are very few aspects of this rum that are different from batch to batch – the reason there are such releases at all is because of the relatively small still capacity, which limits outturns, most of which is sold locally and within the region.

Yack Distillery uses a 1200 litre copper and glass tower still with stainless columns and a 130 litre stainless and copper modular high column still, and these two stills permit the wide flexibility to make a raft of different spirits (gins, vodka, whisky, rum, they play all the hits). With respect to this rum, they use Grade A molasses and a yeast from the Caribbean with a fermentation of 7-8 days. Once it’s run through the still, it gets tucked into an ex-bourbon barrel for four years and a Meyrieux Bourgogne Cask for another year – one wonders whether that qualifies as “double matured” or “finished” but never mind (they just call it “double cask” on the label).

Photo (c) Yack Creek Distillery

In the review of Batch #5 I remarked on its “uncommonly pleasant nose”. Here, “unusual” might be a better term: it opens as dirty, loamy, earthy – redolent of compost, rotting wet autumn leaves, and fruits going off. There’s some odd honey and peat, seaweed and brine, and a weak medicinal iodine note swirling around in the background, combined with overripe orange peel notes, pineapple and peaches. I dunno, but I’m sniffing a weak TECA here, it seems like. 

Still, the taste isn’t bad at all. It’s firm and warm, not scratchy, with lighter fruit coming to the fore almost immediately: papaya, ripe Indian mangoes, brown sugar, bananas, salted caramel, a crisp and spicy guacamole primed with some Thai chilis (that’s what I tasted, honest). And the finish was no slouch, medium long, a little spicy but also muskily sweet and always that hint of chili coming out to take a last bite

Well. I had to smile. This was such a jolly little number. It gambolled and frisked and jumped all over the place with all those weird notes, yet somehow it kind of came together pretty well in the end…once it got tired and chilled out. After about half an hour (I kept the glass going out of sheer curiosity) it really settled down and started to play it safe and became less energetic, and lost something of its exceptionalism. Whether that’s good or bad for you depends on your preferences, I guess.

My advice is  to know your tastes and how you like your neat pour: if you’re an adventurous sort of bloke, don’t waste time waiting for it to open up and come to you, but take it as it comes. You’ll be intrigued, and maybe even surprised – pleasantly so, I hope. And if you’re the conservative, take-it-easy country solicitor type, well, wait a while — you’ll be pleasantly surprised too.

(#1078)(83/100) ⭐⭐⭐½


Company Background (from R-0921)

The distillery is located in the eastern state of Victoria, and was founded in 2016 by two friends, Mick and Jamie, conforming to the pattern of many others: the guys were checking out whale sharks in Ningaloo (Western Australia) six years earlier, the conversation turned to spirits and opening a business, and in short order they had made plans. 

Then they spent years securing the financing, buying and installing the necessary equipment and started their business. They called it Yack after the river and town in which they set up shop, and quite sensibly shortened its name, because calling it Yackandandah might have been a labelling problem and a tongue twister for lexically challenged. Unsurprisingly they have made gin and vodka to pay the immediate bills, before heading into whisky territory (where they are already up to the 27th edition as of 2024) and the 12th iteration of their rum line.


Other notes

  • From the 2023 advent calendar Day 11
  • I’m not actually sure what a “tavern style” rum is…but I hope to find out one day.
  • The logo on the company masthead is that of a Blue Murray Spiny Crayfish, commonly found in the creek and was designed by Jamie Heritage and his sister.
  • Yack Creek Distillery is one of a cluster of small family-run distilleries established over the last decade in and around Yackandandah and its surrounds. Backwoods Distilling is close by, and in the area are Barking Owl, Bilson’s, Glenbosch, joining the 10 or so distilleries in Victoria’s High Country.
Jun 172024
 

The question most have when seeing this bottle for the first time, is, not unnaturally, who the hell is Watson? Is it the owner?  An old and crusty master blender, a black sheep member of the family? Some anonymous angel investor from way back? Naah, it’s none of the above – with a cheeky sense of humour that would do the new Australian micros proud, the answer is…the distillery cat; and they named their rarest experimental casks for him.

This might make the distillery seem somewhat of a lark and not all that serious, but take my word for it – it is. Kit Carruthers founded the establishment in 2018 on a converted cattle byre on  the family estate in SW Scotland, just around the time the ink was drying on his PhD, and began distilling in 2019, doing all of the initial work on his own. By 2022 things were going well enough to hire a second employee (or third, if you count Watson – it’s not clear what his legal status in the distillery is; he may just be a feline Baldrick for all we know).

What characterises the distillery and Kit’s work there is not only the minimal environmental footprint, but the quickly expanding range.  There’s a white rum in the lineup, several aged expressions, special editions (of course), a spiced rum and always something a bit out there for the aficionados, or a favoured charity. The “Watson’s Reserve Edition #1” which had its debut in the 2023 TWE Rum Show is a post still product laid to rest in September 2019 in an American oak barrel, then recasked in June 2021 in a 65L Ex-oloroso and ex-Speyside whisky octave before being bottled in November 2022 at 59%…by which time the outturn was a relatively small 30 bottles.

Even if a year after the fact it’s become borderline unavailable, it’s still worth checking out if you can find it. For a youngish rum it sure presses some interesting buttons: for example, the nose is quite pleasant for that strength, richly sweet and borderline thick. It’s initially chewy and meaty to smell, though this fades rather quickly leaving mostly grapes, vanilla, apples and some faintly sour notes of kimchi and a wine that’s on the edge of going off, balanced by some toffee and salted caramel ice cream.

The taste builds (some might say improves) on that, and elevates the experience a bit. It’s crisp and a little sharp, very clean. Mostly it presents butterscotch and caramel, toffee, some weak tannins and vanilla, raisins and prunes. One can’t expect too much complexity for a three year old rum, yet what we have here isn’t half bad, and the finish is vibrant, fresh and quite dry, with more of those faintly bitter woody notes leavened with toffee and vanilla – one wonders what this will be like in a further five years, to be honest.

British rum until recently was relegated to supermarket blends, neutral alcohol dumbed down to living room strength, Bacardi lookalikes or rebottled rum from foreign climes, often the Caribbean. But in the last decade, a bunch of New Brit distilleries have popped up over the last decade – the Islay Rum Company, Outlier, Retribution, J. Gow,  Sugar House and others, have all redefined British rum making in this period (in my opinion at least), with small-batch cask-strength releases, fascinating unaged whites, innovative approaches and a desire to see what some tinkering and an attitude can do. 

Ninefold is one of these and they’re just as eager to show they can make some interesting juice, with or without Watson lending a helping paw.  Based on this rum and others I’ve tried, they have a good chance of doing just that. 

(#1077)(85/100) ⭐⭐⭐½


Other notes

Feb 272024
 

One thing I have always enjoyed about the Australian distilleries (aside from their cool origin stories) is the irreverent naming. While many are completely straightforward owners’ or geographical names, there are some that enjoy a cheeky wink too, like Brix, Tin Shed, Boatrocker, Red Hen, Jimmy Rum or Winding Road. And of course there are those that take it even further, with names as evocative as Devil’s Thumb, Hoochery, Hippocampus…or Mad Monkey, the subject of today’s review.

Below this quick review is a more in depth company backgrounder: for now, what do we have in the glass? The tech sheet is as follows: molasses sourced from New South Wales, deriving from sugarcane farmed in the Condong, Broadwater, and Harwood villages and their associated sugar mills, all founded in the late 1800s; fermentation time is nine days at a peak of 26°, utilising a wild yeast and ale yeast blend (some bacteria coming from dunder), then run through the 500L pot still, and set to age in an ex-Seppeltsfield port cask for 30 months, with the first year upstairs on the mezzanine floor (more sunshine), thereafter on the distillery floor. It’s then diluted down to 44% ABV and that gives enough to fill 163 70cl bottles (which suggests small cask, not a full sized one).

Keeping it short, the nose first: it immediately provides oily, sweet, honey-like aromas, into which one can detect ripe yellow mangoes, orange juice, wasabi and even some sushi drizzled with lemon juice and sweet soya…which, admittedly, is quite an opener. It also channels some new leather furniture freshly unwrapped out of plastic, prunes, some ginger and coffee grounds, and has a crisp sort of sweetness to it that after a few minutes kind of dissipates into something thinner, and sharper.

And the taste, my, that’s lovely! Caramel, bonbons, bourbon, leather, smoke, prunes and dark unsweetened chocolate meld well together with a texture that isn’t too aggressive (the 44% is a good choice for this). Occasional rough patches and some sharpness don’t detract, really – it’s what one can expect from a fast-aged young rum from a smallish cask. Anyway, there are hints of stewed apples, molasses, licorice, honey, peaches in syrup and an overall depth of sensation and flavour that are really quite good. Even the finish is no slouch – it’s short but very aromatic, with closing notes of raspberry jam, honey and burnt brown sugar.

This is a product that is solidly, traditionally, “rummy” – it wouldn’t be out of place being drunk out of plastic tumblers, chased with coconut water, while dominos are being smashed down on a plywood table in Tiger Bay or Trenchtown. It channels a nice mix of Demerara rums and Latin type rons, combining some lighter notes with heavier, duskier ones that lend a tasty counterpoint. It’s perhaps too much to ask for serious complexity and exquisitely aged quality in a rum less than three years old – the roughness and occasional snide spiciness of the palate, and the rapid fall-off of the nose all show this – yet overall, there’s something pretty good here, and you can see this is an outfit that isn’t mucking around. 

Converted to US$ this is a hundred buck rum (Australian spirits taxes are extortionate) and that’s a lot to ask for not only a newcomer without a track record, but a young newcomer. Australians, lacking something of the international choice we take for granted, may think otherwise. Rightly so, in my opinion, because from where I’m sitting, this young rum is pointing to some serious sh*t coming our way from that distillery in another five years, and rummies Down Under probably know that way ahead of us, and are stocking up.

(#1060)(84/100) ⭐⭐⭐½


Photo (c) Mad Monkey Distillery, from their website

Company Background

The distillery, located in the southern city of Adelaide was envisioned in 2018 by two amateur distillers (the unkind would say ‘moonshiners’) named Scott McCarthy and Alec McDowall (who now refer to themselves as the original addled simians, or “Crooked Finger” and “Red Beard” depending on the time of day); they met at a distilling conference at Seppeltsfield (Scott worked as a brand ambassador for Seppeltsfield Road Distillers), compared notes, and bonded over what the storyteller in me supposes is several bottles of unspeakably vile hooch and all sorts of intoxicated plans that normal people forget the next morning. Two years later, having sobered up, regained their sight and become business partners, they opened Mad Monkey Distillery in the industrial area of the city, in an old unused warehouse office. There they brought their hybrid 500L still called “Albert”, festooned their cellar door garden with a lawn, tiki huts, a wood-oven pizza van, and not being happy with all that, added an orchard and a beehive just because, well, they could. Then they got to work, all the while keeping their day jobs.

Initially they produced the usual “cane spirit” which is what rum under two years old is generally called, and have now taken that to the next level by infusing such distillates with fruits from their orchard and even using the pollinating bees from the apiary to develop yeast strains of their own – clearly, everything on the premises has to earn its keep. For the most part they stayed resolutely local, marketing their rums around the city, and have only slowly begun expanding outside these environs. During COVID shutdowns, they took advantage of the lull to set down a more consistent barrel ageing program and by 2022 and 2023 had the requisite two years of ageing in some of their barrels, enough to begin selling “rum” instead of the unaged stuff. By this time (2022) they had become successful enough to take a deep breath and quit the rat race, and have devoted themselves full time to the distillery: they have called it the first dedicated rum distillery in Adelaide, a claim which is likely true, since they don’t really make anything else, unlike the kitchen-sink ethos of many others in the joint. That sure impresses me, given the economics of their chosen field.


Other notes

  • From the 2023 Australian Advent Calendar, Day 6. This is Batch #2 from 2021. Batch #1 was introduced in 2022, I think
  • The use of a distinctive bottle shape is pretty cool. Kind of makes the rum stand out on a shelf. It was also deliberately chosen (the supplier calls the style “pirate”) to stand out, since at the time of selection, the majority of bottles holding Australian spirits were the cheapest available, making for a bland and uniform look that MM wanted to avoid.
  • Seppeltsfield is a winery just NE of Adelaide. “Tawny” is a fortified port wine they make.
  • When I asked about the distillery name, Alex responded “Mad Monkey came from my long want to name a business after something Monkey related, (Monki has long been a handle of mine) and the Mad bit is coined to the wild black magic type fermentation of rum!” Can’t argue with that logic.
  • The form of the logo is similar to both the Leipzig Trade Fair in Germany and Matugga rums. I guess there are only so many ways to artistically render two “M”s.
Jan 192024
 

Although I tried all three standard expressions of the Romero Distilling Co. at the Rocky Mountain Food and Drink show in Calgary in 2023, I had already bought all of them before, and this came in useful when double checking my quickly scribbled notes on the “Amber.” That was the one which I had almost bypassed in favour of the “Dark” and the extraordinary full proof Sherry Cask edition — which I still think is one of the best Canadian rums I’ve had to date.

A quick recap: the Calgary-based Romero Distilling Company was founded in 2018 by Diego Romero, an engineer who opened the distillery with his son Tomas (it was the latter who was running the booth that day), with a 2000-litre hybrid copper still and three 2000-litre fermenters; they use Crosby molasses from Guatemala (by way of New Brunswick) as its base, together with a commercial yeast. The company only makes rum, and remain very little known outside Alberta…which I’m hoping will change.

This rum derives from molasses, then, and is dialled in from a pot still configuration. We have no information on the duration of the distillation date, fermentation process, or the exact age of the resulting distillate. As far as I know, it’s a couple of years old (aged in ex bourbon Woodford Reserve barrels), with a relatively short time in the ex-Oloroso sherry barrels…a few months, perhaps – neither data point is provided. I am at a loss why such information is not placed front and centre on the label or the web page, since it would seem to be an obvious selling point, but Romero has stated that they want to de-emphasize the number-counting people do when considering ageing as a factor, and focus on the blend as a whole. As before, I think this is not the right course of action in today’s more open world. But that’s Romero, so let’s move on to what it’s actually like.

The nose starts off by being rather thin and uninviting, which is not unusual for a 40% rum, and it does present as somewhat alcohol forward without much that’s redeeming…until it starts to build up a head of steam. Then we get some plastic, plasticine, iodine and licorice, which is nice, and toffee, caramel, vanilla and brown sugar, which is better. As it opens up there are additional hints of new leather shoes, some spicy notes (cinnamon, maybe, and cardamom), and a peculiar, faint combination of fresh sawdust and peaches in syrup, all very delicate.

Much of this comes back on the palate when tasted. There’s some slightly sweet alcohol, glue, fly paper (I swear!), cardboard, hay and a milk-soaked long-standing bowl of weetabix. With some effort — the rum remains faint throughout and one really has to pay attention — there are also red olives and raspberries, but not a whole lot more.  The finish, no surprise, is short and thin, but very clean and a little sweet. Not too bad.

Eschewing spices — supposedly it didn’t have any — and going for the sherry finish was probably a good idea, because really, the rum would be thin gruel without it. That finish saves it from being some kind of light 1970s throwback of the kind I’ve learned to endure (but not particularly like), and there’s enough going overall on for those with more sensitive snoots than mine to be able to sip it without undue issues. 

For my money, however, the rum is too weak and it’s too faint, and that’s in spite of the sherry finish that provides such an intriguing but hard-to-sense counterpoint to the familiar vanilla and butterscotch notes coming from the ex-bourbon barrels. There’s potential here, and one can sense a better, stronger and more assertive rum waiting to emerge. It’s just not enough, and if we really wanted to see this thing cranked up, well, I guess then we’d call it the full proof edition, wouldn’t we, and it’s already established that that is the better rum. So for those who want to play it safe, save fifteen bucks and have a decent drink, this is the rum that will do the trick. For everyone else, it’ll be slim pickings.

(#1051)(75/100) ⭐⭐½

Oct 172023
 

So there I was walking around the impressively well organised Rocky Mountain Wine and Food Festival, which had boatloads of beers, wines and spirits and food (and precious few rums), all superbly arranged in terms of space and one’s ability to navigate. For a guy used to the tight confines and crowded booth frontage of European festivals, it was eye opening to be able to walk five abreast in any direction and join ten people in front of a display and not bump elbows. Every now and then I wandered back over to Karl Mudzamba and his compadre Ernie, who were manning the Bira! booth, to apprise him of any new finds, or just hang out and enjoy their company.

One of the few rums partaking this event was Romero Distilling Company, which is located in Calgary: it was founded in 2018 by Diego Romero, an engineer who came to the country from Spain in the 1960s and worked in the mining and mineral processing industries as an adult before moving on to what we can only imagine was a passion project. He opened the distillery with his son Tomas (it was he who was running the booth), bought a 2000-litre hybrid copper still, three 2000-litre fermenters and, if memory serves, uses Crosby molasses from Guatemala (by way of New Brunswick) to get things going.  The company only makes rum, opting not to dilute its focus with other kinds of spirits, as so many others do, and remains very little known outside Alberta.

Now, I’ve actually already bought a bottle of the Dark and the Amber rums, and I’ve written a few quick tasting notes on both, but have not gotten around to trying either one seriously, or doing any real research – so it was good to see a bottle available for tasting at the booth, and Tomas patiently led me through the basic details, which I’ll not discuss until after I give you the tasting notes.

The standard strength (40%) rum is, as its name implies, dark. It’s also got a nose that’s peculiarly tannic in a sweetish kind of way, slightly oaky, and quite crisp. There’s quite a dollop of spices hitting you right away – cardamom and vanilla are the most obvious, with some cinnamon, light licorice, rosemary and black unsweetened tea backing that up. It’s too tame to do any damage and it looks to have been aged a few years – more than that is hard to tease out.

It remains easy and quite soft on the palate, and the crisp cleanliness of the nose is retained. It’s flavourful and the sense of the spices continues: the mouthfeel is really nice, and I suspect that even if the label doesn’t say so, there’s more than just some barrel ageing going on here. There are some red wine and bourbon notes in the background, a touch of ripe peaches in syrup, and overall it’s quite pleasant, even if additional vanilla and cardamom and cinnamon seem insistent on making themselves felt.  Finish is quite short, but at least it’s clean, and repeats most of the spices, slight tannics, ginger and fruit reasonably well.

So, after all this, what is it? Based on the label, you’re not getting much: 40%, molasses based, batch number, aged in ex-bourbon barrels. The website is where you get more: ex-Woodford Reserve barrels, pot still distillation…and additional spices. Which spices? That’s not given. How long is it aged? Not provided either. Year of distillation? Nada.

Tomas on the other hand, was quite informative and outgoing. He confirmed the barrels, and said the Dark is made as a blend, consistently about two-plus years old (hence the lack of a year of make), with all natural ingredients, nothing artificial. And while he called his still a single-column still, the website entry for this rum mentions it’s a pot still, and an article in the Calgary Herald mentions a hybrid, which last makes more sense given its flexibility and the photographs I’ve seen.

Essentially then: the Dark is a spiced rum, even if it doesn’t say so explicitly.  This is a puzzle since the company does make an amber coloured Spiced version, so it’s unclear why the title was left off. Tomas said that they don’t emphasise the ageing because that just leads to preconceptions that young rums can’t be good ones and they wanted it to speak for itself.  Maybe so, but I suggest that in today’s climate of disclosure, nothing is really lost by providing consumers with what they need to make an informed choice when buying a C$75 rum, and if Renaissance proved anything, it’s that rums aged under five years can be pretty damned fine.

So. What did I think? For people like my vlogger friend Steve the Barman in the UK, who likes expounding on the joys of rums like this, it’s right in his wheelhouse. It’s decent enough. It’s tasty, sweetish and as an after dinner drink will work just fine. Those who like rums like the Kraken, Don Papa, AH Riise, Bumbu and Captain Morgan will find much to enjoy. As a rum on its own terms, I myself find it less successful, and the cardamom and vanilla in particular have a disconcertingly powerful impact on the overall profile, shouldering aside other and more delicate aspects. On the basis of these comments you can decide where your own preferences lie, I think.

(#1033)(Unscored)


Other notes

  • It would be remiss not to mention that the Dark has won several awards: a Gold Medal in the Frankfurt International Trophy 2022 as well as the competition’s Best Canadian Spirit that same year; and a gold and silver medal in the San Francisco World Spirits Competition 2021 and 2022 respectively (both in the Dark Rum category).
  • The company runs tour, tasting and blending sessions at its facility in Calgary, which I’ve heard from friends of mine who went, are quite good.
  • There’s a fair bit of marketing copy on the website and other promotional materials, about rum running in Canada during Alberta’s own Prohibition era, but this is local colour and has no bearing on Romero directly.
  • The crow on the logo reflects the Crowsnest Pass in the south of Alberta, through which moonshine was supposedly transported on its way to the US in the bad old days.

Opinion

It’s no secret that spiced rums hold no particular appeal for me. Though occasionally their taste is nice enough, there is no yardstick by which to judge them —  some sort of baseline by which to assess their profile, the levels of what’s put in, how many different spices, where those come from, and to what spirit exactly such additions are made.  In other words, it becomes impossible to judge value or effectively compare one with the other. Are you paying for what is touted as an all-natural product (always a plus in these organic-everything times)? The hard-to-get (and therefore expensive) spices and flavourings? The exclusivity or age or quality or source of the rum stock it’s put into?  The length of time it all marries in casks, leading to additional price hikes? 

Who knows these things?  Nobody except the producer, that’s who. And therefore, I can’t tell whether a given spiced rum is neutral alcohol gotten on the cheap to which stuff has been added (perhaps to get around the costs of a years-long barrel-ageing program), or a youngish rum topped up with all-natural ingredients that make for a nicely flavoured drink. Both could conceivably be sold at a premium with all sorts of glib explanations.

Years of looking at spiced, flavoured or infused rums (yes, I do try them) have left me with a certain cynicism regarding what goes on a label, and at end, it comes down to this – in the absence of a common, agreed-to standard, no matter how informal, I just don’t trust them. I have no doubt that small and upcoming distilleries like Romero suffer from a lack of regional (let alone global) recognition, but they’re not helping themselves by the lack of proper disclosure here either (though it may be completely inadvertent). It’s not an inconsequential issue for a consumer being asked to pay that price, and hampers a more serious consideration of a distillery that really does make some interesting rums, another of which I’ll tell you about next time.


 

Sep 012023
 

Foursquare and WIRD and Mount Gay grab the lion’s share of social media attention from which originates so much of our news from Barbados, and so we sometimes overlook the fourth rum maker on the island, St. Nicholas Abbey.  They are a small boutique distillery that became famous a decade ago for their lovely etched squarish bottles which you could once get refilled at a discount if you presented it at the distillery (maybe no longer now, alas).

SNA remains tiny in comparison with the other distilleries, run as part of a heritage site of the same name, and managed by the Warren family (see my original reviews here and here for some details), and at the beginning, bought rum stock from Foursquare down the road to get their program off the ground – Richard Seale also provided support and advice.  Initially they issued 5, 10 and 12 YO aged rums — these were the first reviews of their line that I did —  and over time this trio has been added to and developed into some much more high end hooches: a 15 and 18 and 20 YO and (heaven forbid) even a 23 YO…which admittedly I’ve never seen or tried (but want to). The rums were (and to some extent remain) rather more expensive than is the norm for similarly aged rums, which I know from personal experience; yet they sold and continue to sell, and these days SNA cultivates its own cane and makes its own rums rather than buying externally.  What this has inevitably led to is a suite of younger rums like the unaged white, a white overproof — and a different 5YO than the one I sharpened my tasting buds on all those years ago. 

The stats for this 5YO, then: a lightish rum deriving from cane syrup (made in small batches from cane juice – so really, a sort of it-which-must-not-to-be-named agricole), coming off a pot-column hybrid still at 92% and then taken down to 65% or so for setting into ex-bourbon barrels. Like the white overproof it is a massive 60% ABV – and it’s a smart move to do so, since it allows the aficionados to get their intensity fix, while having exactly the same rum but weaker, sold to the general marketplace.

What surprises then, bearing in mind the tech sheet, is how relatively subdued the nose is at the beginning: some light and sweet honey, mead, plus a smorgasbord of white fruits (because of course there are); gradually one senses fanta, soda pop, 7Up, a little citrus, vanilla, and the slightly sour but still piquant sense of oranges gone off. The light fruits are always there, set off to some extent by brine, olives, unsweetened chocolate and the rich scent of overripe cashews (the ones with external seeds) which always reminds me of tequila for some reason.

The nose is somewhat rough, admittedly, and this is also the case on the palate.  What saves it is the rich and multilayered texture and intensity of the tastes that are handed over. Green peas, peaches, fruits, fleshy and ripe and juicy; a very firm profile, quite spicy.  Some unsweetened chocolate again, orange marmalade and a dusting of mint and vanilla, yet one misses the vaguely herbal and grassy notes which the source material suggests might be there. But anyway, it’s quite good, and the finish ends well: long, sweet and a little sour, some pineapple-in-syrup notes in the rear, mostly a nicely done fruit salad drizzled with Malibu and some fresh lime juice.

Chosing between the unaged overproof and this 5YO beefcake is pointless – they’re both good rums and serve different purposes.  Trying them together, I enjoyed each of them…in different ways. I felt that overall the unaged white held somewhat more character and likely made a better cocktail, because it had not yet been changed or tamed by age or wood; on the other hand, it was lacking the additional complexity and sharp firmness the 5 YO OP was showcasing. In a pinch I’d try to get the pair.  As for scores, well, back in the day I scored the standard strength 10-12-15 trio higher than I’m scoring this one now (if not by much): but whatever the score is, ultimately I think that this young overproof – with its level of controlled intensity and low-key voluptuousness – is pretty much on par with those venerable starter guns that SNA used to make its name all those years ago.

(#1022)(85/100) ⭐⭐⭐½


Other notes

  • The rum is a blend without any years of distillation or bottling. They are evidently going for a long term consistent taste profile and specific barrels from specific years are the province of more premium bottlings up the line. The ‘single cask’ in the title suggests they decant a whole lot of rum into many casks at the same time, and blend them together over time within that set (otherwise they really would have years of make in the title)
  • The bottles remain the same, with glass etching of the abbey house engraved on each, and a mahogany tipped stopper.
Aug 252023
 

Killik distillery, located in the east of Melbourne, is one of the “New Australian” outfits I have an eye out for: like others located up and down the east coast of Australia (and elsewhere), they are seeking to bootstrap a homegrown rum industry into something greater by applying modern techniques to old-style rum-making and adding an occasional dash of crazy to set themselves apart. So far it’s mostly local sales that keep these small and often family-owned operations afloat, yet slowly their reputation is spreading beyond the Bundies and Beenleighs everyone knows. The Boutique-y Rum Company’s recent bottlings of Black Gate and Mt. Uncle distilleries speaks well for the future of antipodean rums, and Killik is sure to be a part of that movement.

Readers with pachyderm-level memories will likely recall that we’ve looked at a Killik Gold (rum) before – that one was a year or so old and matured in Chardonnay casks, while this one is of somewhat more recent vintage, no finishing or fancy cask, and a different age. When I addressed this question to the Brothers Pratt (the owners), they remarked that although the overall production process remains the same — they continue to tinker with wild yeast fermentation and Jamaican high-ester-style rum making as a core ethos — the small size of their output means that until they expand it to larger sizes, batches are and will be strikingly varied, and those batches come out quite often. In that sense they are somewhat like the six-month ageing-and-output cycle Nine Leaves in Japan used to have.

One thing to look out for is the label. Now recall, Australia has that 2-year rule that states a cane based spirit cannot be called rum until it is aged for at least two years (producers are trying to address a potential revision to this outdated law through the courts)…so strictly speaking Killik should only be able to call it – as before – a “gold” or a “cane spirit” or some variant thereof.  However, in what I personally consider a stroke of marketing genius, they trademarked their name and the image of the anchor device together, as “Killik Handcrafted Rum,” and cheerfully added that to their labels, right above the word “Gold”.  They therefore stayed within the law while simultaneously skirting it and unambiguously stating what they’re making.

This particular version — it’s hard to identify it precisely since there is no notation on the label or the website — was confirmed to me to be at least twice as old as the version from 2022 that had come from the 2021 advent calendar. It is therefore a completely different rum, still made on a hybrid still, with dunder and wild yeast part of the recipe pushing the congener count up.  It is also a blend – of 75% original stock rum now aged to 3 years, plus 25% of one year old fresh make. As before, the barrels are from a local cooperage and I have an outstanding query as to whether it was used or new barrels and if used, what they previously held.

Bottled at the same 42%, the Gold takes a few more chances than the original did – it noses as slightly richer, rounder, fuller. And while the funk and congeners remain as muted as before, there’s an overall sense of something slightly richer here: paint and furniture polish, a touch of wax, acetones and new plastic.  This dissipates over time and is replaced by some middling-sharp fruity notes — apples, green grapes, diluted lemon juice, apricots, pineapples and unripe peaches. There are also, after some minutes, hints of vanilla, cherries, lemon key pie, hot sweet pastries, cookies, and unsweetened yoghurt – very nice for something so relatively young.

The palate maintains that sense of something more complex and richer than its predecessor, even if the strength undercuts that somewhat. And yet overall still it tastes pretty good — green apples, light pineapple slices, bananas, pine tart and grapes, combine nicely with the sense of pastries steaming fresh from the oven, vanilla, light sugar water, lemon zest, and bitter chocolate and crushed walnuts. The finish wraps up the show as best it can, and sums up the tart and creamy fruits and pastries vibe quite well – it is quite easy drinking with a bit of a sour edge, occasionally sharp, not too hot. More cannot really be said here.

Overall, I think the low strength hamstrings a decent rum that could actually be even better — that 42% is okay for casual drinking, but for more appreciation you do need more oomph. The relatively young age is something of a mixed blessing as well, since along with the slightly added complexity comes a bit of roughness — and so I can’t completely recommend it as a sipping rum. That said, the thing makes a really fine daiquiri, and on that front, with those sharp fruity notes leaning up against the warm pastries, the rum walks down strange and interesting yet hauntingly familiar paths inhabited by hot Jamaican patties and fierce white overproofs served in plastic tumblers at backcountry rumshops —  and if nothing else, those are the qualities which define it as a rum too good to walk away from. 

(#1019)(83/100) ⭐⭐⭐½


Other notes

Aug 182023
 

Outlier Distiller’s overproofed “Hurricane” is a jolt of adrenaline to the heart, an amazing rum of remarkable qualities which took me so by surprise that I kept it on the go for the best part of a day in a glass I refused to put away (or rinse out, much to the horror of Mrs. Caner). The previous rums in the company’s oeuvre – Hoolie and Punk Croc – were pretty good for their place and time and the producers’ experience, but the Hurricane took it to another level entirely. Most who tasted it at the 2023 TWE Rumshow that day could be seen walking off with a slightly addled expression on their faces, as if to ask themselves what the hell they had just had, and why were Ian and Rick grinning?

And yet, the Hurricane, with all that the name implies, stuffed into a bottle at a furious 64%, is actually a rather young blend, very much in the vein of Punk Croc: 98.5% unaged and undiluted Hoolie and 1.5% something else. It’s that little bit of extra, that tiny bit of a buggane’s DNA, that elevates this thing – a touch of 2021 new make spirit aged for a year or so in new American oak and a sprinkling of the 3 YO 2020 rum matured in an Ardbeg cask (actually a butt, but I know how that reads, so…).

What came out the other end was a rum that — after an initial sniff, a quick taste —  made me cough, look at my glass, turn to the pair of cheekily smirking owners and mumble in semi-coherent bafflement, “This thing is how old?”  Because the nose was just so damned interesting: it had all the directed force of Subutai’s army in the field, beginning right away with a lunging series of crystal clear aromas — vanilla, bon-bons, wet fresh coconut shavings, light white-sugar notes, and then the whiff of iodine and a sterile hospital mixing it up with candy, white fruits and the tartness of unsweetened yoghurt, milk going slightly off. It’s both sweet and sour with just a bit of salt, and while quite firm, is more than easy enough to smell without any health advisories issued in advance.

Oh, and the taste — it’s good. Well rounded, fruity and very strong, while at no point being so sharp as to cause distress and discomfort. Icing sugar and ripe white pears, guavas, green apples and pale ripe grapes; then salted crackers, cheerios, more of that slight sour milk taste, even a drizzle of maple syrup, all set off by a nice key lime pie and fresh pastries. The finish closed up shop very smoothly, leaving memories of crisp grapes and light fruits, brine, an olive or two, sweet soya and that peculiar medicinal tang that somehow missed being unpleasant by a whisker. 

The way the profile unfolds is really kind of spectacular — here we have not just any old overproof white hooch, but a solidly executed example of rum assembly that’s put together like a fine Swiss watch. The profile meticulously juxtaposes a small array of disparate elements, and then it’s all tweaked and  choreographed and hammered flat, so that it unfolds with near-clinical precision. Assassins like Le Samourai, the Jackal or the Accountant would instantly recognize it and smile.

By now we’re more than a little familiar with the rums of Outlier, the little milk-shed based distillery on the Isle of Man created in 2019 by those two newly minted Manxmen with a crazy vision, a flippant attitude and a knack for making good juice. Like most new rum-making outfits they are characterised by some really interesting young and unaged rums made with attitude and clever marketing, and while I have no idea if they’re in the black yet, surely the reputation they’ve garnered thus far speaks well for their future endeavours. With this rum they burnish their reputation to a fine lustre, by making a seriously tasty rum that is affordable and approachable, intense and enjoyable — and when you’re done it’ll be one of the best things you’ve drunk all week.

(#1018)(88/100) ⭐⭐⭐⭐


Company background

Outlier is a recently-established tiny British craft distillery, which joins other new UK-based rum-making companies like Ninefold, Islay Rum Co, Sugar House, Retribution and J. Gow. These small outfits are showing that good rum doesn’t have a nationality and can be well-made in places that don’t immediately spring to mind when considering the spirit. It was founded in November 2019: they boys set up shop in the aforementioned milking shed with a small wood-fired 160-litre hybrid still, and began by issuing an instantly-sold-out elderberry- and blackberry-based schnapps called “Hedge Fund” and a 55% rum they called “Pudtroleum” for the 2020 Christmas season. By 2022 they released their next rum, the mild mannered 41% “Hoolie” and in 2023 the Punk Croc and the Hurricane.

Production is relatively straightforward: they ferment their molasses-based wash using local yeast for anything up to two weeks depending on the weather, then run it through their still twice, and reduce the resultant spirit down to a manageable strength. The still is small, but it allows 6-7 batches a week to be made, resulting in anything up to about 600 bottles and a whole lot of experimentation. They age in whatever barrels they can find and source – so far there is no major aged stock ripening, though its part of their long term plan, of course. Sales thus far remain mostly on the Isle of Man, the UK and more recently, the EU.

Aug 042023
 

Unlike the completely unaged white “Hoolie” we looked at before, Outlier Distilling Co.’s Punk Croc is in fact aged, just a bit, in spite of its appearance that would suggest none at all.  Perhaps Rick and Ian, the insouciant distillers from that milkshed-based distillery on the Isle of Man, felt that the screaming vibes of the colourful label and the crazy title didn’t need any competition from some dark colouring. It is, on the other hand, just a bit stronger at 43%, but in most respects the hilariously named (and drawn) Punk Croc – these guys have a great sense of humour – is very much a slightly older, slightly blended sibling of the Hoolie.

Since we have already discussed the short history of the company in the Hoolie review (I reprint it in the notes below for convenience), it’s important to understand exactly what we’re drinking here. Punk Croc (I can’t even type that without grinning) is mostly, but not all, pure Hoolie – 98% of it.  The remaining 2% is composed in a ratio of 5:1:1 of Hoolie [a] at 75% ABV aged for one year in unused American oak barrels [b] at 63% for two years in Sauternes and [c] an unidentified 3YO rum at 46% ABV in an Ardbeg butt. “The rums have never been in another wood, so that’s the total maturation,” remarked Ian when I asked about such a peculiar admixture. “Pretty useful toolkit for blends, but I doubt any will make it to bottle on their own.”

He wasn’t kidding about that because what came out the other end was demonstrably Hoolie…just kickstarted a tad. Consider first the nose: it had that vaguely sulphurous smell of cordite and brimstone, the acridity of a licked copper penny, yet it developed pretty quickly into a crisp, fruity, olive-y scentbox that channelled fresh paint on old canvas, turpentine, and a gallon or two of tart yoghurt. Oh, and dusty rooms, the plastic peeled off a spanking new phone, light white fruits, licorice, cereal, and even some cinnamon.  That was quite a bit coming from such a slim ageing profile.

This was also the case when tasted; the new plastic took the lead without (thankfully) completely taking over, and it dovetailed with a light briny note, some pimento-stuffed olives, a fruit salad of crisp apples and overripe cherries. There was surely more than enough sour and sweet to be going around here and yet it never faltered or went seriously off the rails Even the finish was pretty good: light and reasonably long, consisting mostly of some acetones, light fruits and a syrupy note that combined with (again) new plastic. 

Overall, the rum was decent enough: sure, somewhat unusual, but it worked quite well, and even tasting it side by side with the original Hoolie, it was a tight race to determine which version was the better product. Both were tasty, both gave a good account of themselves, and both were well assembled in and of themselves, made for the cocktail circuit yet seeming slightly better. 

In the end, I’d have to give a slightly higher rating to this one, though. Even that little itty-bitty bit of aged rum added into the blend is enough to make a difference in the profile, and provides that slight filip of additional complexity that makes it a somewhat ore nuanced drink, a more interesting sip, even if it’s actually made for daiquiris with an attitude. It’s not every day you have a mad badass neon croc come waddling into your drinks cabinet, but colour or crazy notwithstanding, it’s not a reptile I’d want to kick out any time soon.

(#1015)(84/100) ⭐⭐⭐½


Other notes

  • The guys couldn’t come up with a name for this rum, so they asked Meg, the graphics designer, to draw a suitably flashy mad-hatter design and then Ian’s wife Lydia came up with the name. 
  • First released specifically for the Manchester Rum Festival in 2023

Company background

Outlier is a recently-established tiny British craft distillery, which joins other new UK-based rum-making companies like Ninefold, Islay Rum Co, Sugar House, Retribution and J. Gow. These small outfits are showing that good rum doesn’t have a nationality and can be well-made in places that don’t immediately spring to mind when considering the spirit. It was founded in November 2019: they boys set up shop in the aforementioned milking shed with a small wood-fired 160-litre hybrid still, and began by issuing an instantly-sold-out elderberry- and blackberry-based schnapps called “Hedge Fund” and a 55% rum they called “Pudtroleum” for the 2020 Christmas season. By 2022 they released their next rum, the mild mannered 41% “Hoolie” and in 2023 the Punk Croc and the Hurricane.

Production is relatively straightforward: they ferment their molasses-based wash using local yeast for anything up to two weeks depending on the weather, then run it through their still twice, and reduce the resultant spirit down to a manageable strength. The still is small, but it allows 6-7 batches a week to be made, resulting in anything up to about 600 bottles and a whole lot of experimentation. They age in whatever barrels they can find and source – so far there is no major aged stock ripening, though its part of their long term plan, of course. Sales thus far remain mostly on the Isle of Man, the UK and more recently, the EU.

Jul 282023
 

You can bet your bottom dollar that every review or writeup about the cannily named Outlier Distilling Company will find some way to mention that it’s not in the Caribbean (see?) but somewhere strange off the beaten track – the Isle of Man in this case – and has a name that is completely appropriate to what it is. And without doubt, most will also note that the founders, Rick Dacey and Ian Warborn-Jones, set up shop in a small milking shed in a farm there, because, y’know, stuff like this just writes itself and it would be criminal to leave it out.

Outlier is another recently-established (and very tiny) British craft distillery, already making waves in the local rum world; it joins other new UK-based rum-making companies like Ninefold, Islay Rum Co, Sugar House, Retribution and J. Gow which are showing that good rum doesn’t have a nationality and can be well-made in places that don’t immediately spring to mind when considering the spirit. It was founded in November 2019: they boys set up shop in the aforementioned milking shed (one assumes the cows were long gone by this time, otherwise they might have redefined Manx terroire right there) with a small wood-fired 160-litre hybrid still, and established their credentials and their philosophy right away, by issuing an instantly-sold-out elderberry- and blackberry-based schnapps called “Hedge Fund” and a 55% rum they called “Pudtroleum” for the 2020 Christmas season (that they were able to do so in the middle of a global pandemic and lockdown is no mean feat).

By 2022 the still had been pretty much run in and the kinks worked out, and they released their next rum, the mild mannered 41% “Hoolie” – it’s a slang term meaning a high wind or a blustery day, as in “It’s blowing a hoolie,” which is something of a backhanded homage to their island, where such blows are constant. They ferment their molasses-based wash using local yeast for anything up to two weeks depending on the weather, then run it through their still twice, and reduce the resultant spirit down to a manageable strength. 

41% was chosen so as to allow for easier acceptance and there’s no ageing here, it’s a white rum straight off the still. In the hands of a someone still using training wheels this could result in a hot mess of keck, but here what we get is quite an interesting, tasty little rumlet, which starts right off  by channelling crisp aromas of flowers, cucumbers in sweet balsamic vinegar, soya sauce, brine, olives, figs and sugar water (and all that in the first thirty seconds).  The fresh cleanliness of the smell hints pleasingly at a cane juice rum, and throughout it remains soft, presenting light fruity notes – apricots, grapes, overripe apples, and even a touch of candy floss.

To taste, also very easy drinking.  It’s light and creamy, sweet, dusty and watery (which at first I regarded with some dismay, fearing a dilution of taste), but then it finds its legs as it opens up and more muscular aspects emerge (and that’s saying something, given it’s a relatively mild strength).  White fruits, guavas, lychees, melons, papaya, a touch of citrus for bite and some fanta and sprite to smoothen that out.  Marshmallows, slightly singed, and again, that candy floss element. The finish is short and breathy, mostly of cheesecake, marshmallows and citrus, and it’s gone too fast, which is a shame.

Naming this rum ‘Hoolie’ is an odd choice, I thought, given what it supposedly represents; and the rum is hardly a tempest, more a sprightly autumn blow that heralds the approach of colder weather, without actually being a wintry gale itself. Never mind, though: what I like about it is the integration of the various elements and how tasty they are: the rum samples like a cross between a beefed up Riesling and a mild unaged agricole, producing an off the wall love child that succeeds swimmingly by not trying to be too much to all people. The Hoolie makes a nice little daiquiri, and indeed, much of the company’s efforts surrounding its promotion have involved cocktail circuit demos and bar popups (it is a component in Trailer Happiness’s featured zombie blend, for example) – it is not made to be a premium sipper, and doesn’t pretend to be one.

Just as the Australians a world away are doing, the new crop of British distilling entrepreneurs who have sprung up in the last decade are eschewing mass-market sales and redefining small-scale quality rum in their own way, while never losing sight of the spirit’s basic DNA. What Outlier has done is rejig the pieces and the techniques they are using to make rum, just a bit, and here have succeeded in making quite an interesting and tasty rum that speaks well for their abilities. Better yet, the stuff that came after this rum is even better: for now, though, I’ll just leave you with my appreciation for the Hoolie’s succulent charms, and save other reviews from the brand’s expanding portfolio for the future.

(#1013)(83/100) ⭐⭐⭐½


Other notes

  • Neither of the two founders is actually from the Isle of Man: both now call it home
  • The two heads on the label channelling Aeolus and blowing wind, are caricatures of Rich and Ian. 
  • Label design is, in a nice touch, actually credited for once: to Meg ‘Stedhead’ Hindley.
Apr 282023
 

Returning to Canada and observing the rumscape that has developed over the last decade has not filled me with elation and confidence. Most of what I’ve found and tasted thus far is low level mixing hooch – which wouldn’t be so bad if the majority wasn’t just the kind of barely-aged, insipid, uninspiring, boring blah that Merchant Shipping Co. white rum so splendidly exemplified. They didn’t have to be — after all, I’ve tasted unaged and lightly aged rums from all over the map which exceeded their humble origins and became unexpectedly and quietly impressive products. But up until last week, I was beginning to wonder whether there were any really good ones North of 49.

With white rums of any stripe, the answer so far is a clear “no.” With aged rums, on the other hand, it would seem that there are glimmers of hope. Last weekend the Big (formerly the Little) Caner volunteered to help me run past a series of rums from around the world – I imagine that was a sort of amused curiosity at the doings of his geriatric sire involved – and since his nose is actually quite astute after years of following me around, I gladly accepted his assistance and perspective.  We tried six rums blind together: 1 to my complete surprise, my top pick from the rather low-rent bunch (and his second choice) was the Ironworks Amber rum from Nova Scotia.

This was the same rum-making outfit from Nova Scotia behind the “Bluenose” rum we looked at a couple of weeks ago. I thought that one was an interesting if ultimately not-quite-there foray into aged rums, with a more or less okay taste profile and too little disclosure (this has not changed), yet it wasn’t good enough to crack the eighty-point barrier, beyond which we should start paying a bit more attention. The Amber rum my boy and I tasted and which we’re reviewing today is still a rum in its developmental infancy – it has yet to find its sea legs if it wants to compare with any of the rums from the Big Houses’ stables – but by no means was it a slouch.

Quick stats: 42% ABV, molasses-based (Crosby’s Fancy Grade from Guatemala), with the wash passed twice through a hybrid Muller still and then aged; the ageing is tricky – the website says it is “a combination of a first fill bourbon barrel, and a re-charred Blomidon wine barrel” but whether that means the distillate was aged first in one then another, or two separately aged batches were blended, is not mentioned.  Neither is the duration though I suspect it’s probably less than three years all told.

Yet from these unprepossessing beginnings the rum that comes out the other end is actually quite a nifty drink. “Sprightly!” I said to The Big Caner as we nosed it, and enjoyed the light effervescent quality is displayed when smelled. It evinced bright and lively fruits, young and crisp – green apples and grapes, offset by more sober ones like papaya and melons. Mixed in with the clear sweetness was a little smoke, a little rubber, not enough to take over…more like an accent. There were some hints of hand sanitizer, a medicinal or rubbing alcohol, and the whole thing eased up and settled down after a while, becoming almost creamy.

Tastewise the 42% also acquitted itself reasonably well. Here the subtle impression of a low rent agricole was hard to shake: fresh herbs, green grapes, unripe apples, and some citrus notes were the main players on the stage.  A few riper fruits emerged from hiding, along with toffee and vanilla (thankfully not much of either), bright honey and sugar water.  There was a nice background of brininess to it and it was subtly dry, leading to a short and easy finish of white chocolate, crushed almonds and some citrus, not much more.  At 42% I was really surprised to get as much as all that, to be honest.

Overall then, the Ironworks Amber was light, easy drinking; reasonably well balanced, well assembled and not a disappointment. The sweetness was never allowed to dominate, though it could always be sensed lurking in the background; and if the smoky, feinty notes were not as well tamed as they might have been, well, some more ageing would probably have settled that and there are other rums in the company’s lineup which hopefully alleviate this. What’s impressive is that even in the company of the starter-kit rums in which the Amber found itself, it was able to stand out and make a statement for itself, and – to me at any rate – rise to the top of the heap of six. Granted the competition wasn’t world class, but it was from around the world. And that’s no mean feat, to be in that company, then equal and trump them all.  It gives me hope for the Canadian rum distilling scene, though I hope it doesn’t take until the Big Caner reaches my age to get there.

(#992)(83/100) ⭐⭐⭐½


Other notes

  • For some contrasting perspective, see Rum Revelations’ notes on Canadian rums from late 2022: he was rather indifferent to other Ironworks products generally (though they were not the ones I’ve tried, and not this one).
  • The Bluenose rum review  has a more detailed company background at the bottom.
Apr 032023
 

The first thing one notices about the rum, even before it’s poured, is the colour – dark, almost black, with reddish tints, and completely not natural. This creates both expectations and dread in the reviewer because firstly, there’s the whole question of additives, and secondly, it suggests the channelling of the Navy Rum vibe of yore, complete with cutlasses, yo ho hos and some sort of faux-Demerara vibe to deceive the unwary. This does not usually end well.

It’s a relief then, that neither of these is obviously or obnoxiously the case, and in fact, the rum presents rather well at first blush, even with a rather lacklustre 42% strength. The nose has a lot of interesting (if restrained) things going on there: tannins, well polished leather and cinnamon to start off with, quite easy to smell, nothing harsh or bloviating, no straining to make a point.  There some dark elderberry and cranberry notes, vaguely sour, caramel, a touch of molasses and behind it all, the tang of mauby (a bark made into Caribbean soft drinks by locals) – not at all the “traditional” rum flavours one might be expecting and a far cry from the confected, dosed-to-the-gills Bumbu-esque profile one might think is coming.

On the palate it comes off as a bit sweet and briny at the same time, the mauby taking on some more heft, accompanied by cinnamon, molasses and a peculiar sort of scent that reminds me of a sunlit damp forest glade, rank with decomposing leaves and mossy logs and the memory of a rain just ceased.  There is a hint of some fruits – prunes, elderberries again, a vague cough syrup and grenadine dropped here and there.  It’s not bad, all in all, and the finish, while short, at least doesn’t drop the ball, and glides to an easy conclusion with caramel, some sweet prunes, and that slight mauby thing coming onstage for a last bow.

Compared to some of their other efforts, this is a pretty solid rum from the Ironworks Distillery in Nova Scotia (in eastern Canada), though frankly, it would have made more of an impact with several more proof points – 42% really remains too weak. Still, while there are others in the lineup I have not yet tried (including some I don’t want to), as a first introduction to the distillery, I could have picked worse based on label spec. But what are the specs, exactly? There is maddeningly little on the company website.  

Here’s what we know: it derives from Guatemalan molasses imported into eastern Canada (which makes it likely to be Crosby’s – they import exclusively from there and are located in the maritimes), fermented on site over a period of weeks (exact time unspecified), and run through an unidentified still which is either a hybrid or a column still made by Muller from Germany.  A further unspecified period of ageing takes place in ex-bourbon barrels, and again, while some of their barrels are placed on board the Black Beauty floating boat warehouse in the harbour, we are not told whether any of the components of this rum were from there. Lastly, at no point is the age of the rum mentioned, yet this is a company which proudly touts the age of the “Ten,” their oldest rum.

If you detect the bite of irritated impatience here, you’re right. This is getting to be a thing with Canadian rums and the companies that make then, and it’s annoying as hell. In this day and age, I should not have to make comments about disclosure (i.e., the lack thereof), or email the company or ask for further details.  It should be right there on the label or at least in their website — which takes such pains to say who they are and with what pride they what they do. Ironworks has been around for more than a decade, and has steadily amassed a nice stable of regionally appreciated spirits. It’s time to stop with this coy, wink-wink amateur-hour stuff and step up to the big boys table – and part of that is disclosure, not prideful marketing about being the Small Distillery That Could with a scrappy origin story.

I like the rum itself, and am relieved that the inclusion of caramel colouring into the mix to make it darker was not compensation for weaknesses in other areas: and the truth must be told, it’s a more complex and interesting rum than I was expecting — a rum I don’t mind drinking, or mixing. But just as I give it the respect it has earned, I demand that we as consumers are treated with a little more respect in our turn, and provided with the details that would tell us what it is that we just paid forty bucks for. 

(#986)(79/100) ⭐⭐⭐


Other notes

  • Five minute video recap can be found here.
  • The “Bluenose” is a famous Canadian schooner built in 1921 which won many competitions in the 1920s and was exhibited at the Chicago World’s Fair in 1933. Its metal parts were made on the premises of the iron works which the company took over in 2009.
  • I have seen an occasional unconfirmed comment that the rum is spiced, but in the absence of more formal evidence, I chose to doubt it.  The offbeat taste of the rum is, to more a function of its source material, long fermentation, and maybe even the barrels they use.
  • Because of the gradual reduction of North American rum reviewers and the fact that Ironworks does not export much (if at all) other reviews are scant.  However, I point you to Rum Revelations’ notes on Canadian rums from late 2022, including their indifference to other Ironworks products. A reddit reviewer gave the Bluenose 83 points in 2013, and stated its age as about one year. RumRatings was more scattershot, and few conclusions can be drawn from their commentariat – about a third of the votes rated it 7/10. Rum-X, as of this writing, does not have an entry for it.

Historical background

Ironworks is a distillery in the Maritime (Canadian) province of Nova Scotia, founded by Pierre Guevremont and Lynne MacKay in 2009, and inspired a year earlier by a random reading of a magazine article on the growth of the spirits industry (I find this odd because it is much more usual for people to start a distillery based on a connection to some spirit or other, or out of real love for a single product line).  Quite aside from distillation of quality spirits, they wanted to get deep into the technical aspects of fermentation, distillations, ageing and infusing, all via experimentation and personal experience; as well, they hope to use local ingredients as far as possible, and provide employment for the local economy.

They acquired premises in the small town of Lunenburg, in what was once a marine blacksmith’s workshop that serviced the shipbuilders who operated along the South Shore; and happily also provided the title of the fledgling distillery when the time came to name it.  The couple bought a 30,000-litre fermentation tank and a Muller still from Germany (type is not mentioned but I think it’s a hybrid from the few photos I’ve seen), and nowadays source apples, pears, molasses and ferment them all year for a wide ranging spirits portfolio of rum, vodka, brandy, gin and whisky.  Barrels are sourced from all over – with an emphasis on ex-bourbon for rum – and the warehousing has expanded beyond the small storage area to a boat, offices and more.

The company met with enough success that after little more than five years,  it already had won some twenty awards for its products, and it became one of the few of Nova Scotia’s growing craft distillers with a reputation that expanded outside its home province. Their spirits became popular enough that in early 2016 they partnered up with Halifax’s airport to open a liquor store on the premises to allow passengers to buy alcohol when travelling – and limited it to locally made products only. In 2018 they sent a few barrels around the world in a sailing ship, which some herald as a stunt, but which Ms. McKay defended as an experiment to see if the old tale of spirits ageing better at sea was true or not – the barrels were subsequently blended into the “Around The World Rum”, and rapidly sold out.  One could argue as to whether it was marketing or not, but the key takeaway was the willingness of the owners to think a bit outside to box and come up with some ingenious marketing ideas, as well as – one would hope – a more interesting and better rum.

Currently the company makes several different rums, the best known of which are the Amber, the Rum Boat Rum, the “Ten”, the Bluenose and the “Around the World Rum”, the last of which was the special edition referred to above.  They also make a rum cream and an experimental rum blended with maple syrup and then aged some more which they call maple rum and which I term an arrangé or infused spirit.

To some extent the rise of the European – and, of late, American – independent bottlers, as well as the obdurate and overly complex regulatory Canadian landscape, has limited the company’s ability to expand as rapidly as they might wish.  The lack of concentration on one spirit type is also an issue I’ve commented on before, and does not allow for world class expertise to develop as rapidly as it would for a more laser-focused company.  But one must consider the commercial realities of small companies which have to make payroll and generate cash flow, and so, for now, we must accept that Ironworks is a distillery that makes some intriguing rums, and is gradually increasing its footprint and awareness around the country.


 

Mar 062023
 

As soon as the review for the Sugar House unaged white went up, a flurry of comments resulted: “It’s not too shabby” admitted one FB denizen, “But I prefer the OP.” This was immediately seconded by another who said “Love the OP” and followed it up with a flaming icon; and right on the heels of those two remarks, another chipped in over at the NZ Rum Club, and said that yep, the OP was the sh*t there too.

I completely get that, because I have a thing for really strong rums. It’s a mixed bag, as any reader of this list can attest, but when not created with indifference to merely round out a portfolio, when made with understanding, with passion and skill, and yes, even with love (there, I said it), those snarling vulpine bastards will release your inner masochist to the point where you almost look forward to sharp pungency of their addled profiles skewering your palate.

And so when I read these quick comments, I had to hold my hands like Dr. Strangelove to stop the spoilers from coming, and from commenting that this review was already mostly written. Sugar House, one of the New Scottish distilleries (as I term them), has made three rums since they opened that excited a whole lot of attention, interest, commentary, appreciation and glass wobbling: the unaged white, the Blood Tub…and the 62.6% growler of the Overproof. No way it could be ignored.

Unleashed on the public in 2020 (that was batch #1 of 117 bottles), this was a rum deriving from  wash that had fermented for four weeks (!!) using only wild yeast, was run through the pot still and pretty much left as it was.  It was on display (carefully leashed, muzzled and caged for good measure) as late as 2022 when I rather thoughtlessly said “yes, sure” to Ross Bradley, the owner and distiller who was manning the innocuous Sugar House booth at the TWE Rumshow (neither of us knew who the other person was). He poured me a generous shot and stood back to, as Scotland Yard likes to say, “await developments.” (Although maybe he just wanted to be outside the spatter zone).

It’s probable that the strength was no accident, being just a hair off the Wray & Nephew White Overproof, which in turn WP is taking aim at with its own Rum Bar 63%. And when sniffed, well, it gave those legendary badasses some serious competition – it channelled such a crazed riot of rumstink that it was difficult to know where to start. Initially my increasingly illegible handwriting made mention of acetones, plastic, and a sort of sweet paint thinner (is there such a thing?). The nose was a wild smorgasbord of contrasting aromas that had no business being next to each other: salt and cardboard, rye bread liberally coated with sweet strawberry-pineapples jam…over which someone then sprinkled a liberal dose of black pepper. Fruits both spoiled and unripe, machine oil, drywall. There was a chemical, medicinal, varnish and turpentine aspect to the nose that may affront, but I stand here to tell you that it’s a terrific sets of aromas and if I had appreciated the original white rum I had started with, I really liked this one.

Did I say the smells were terrific? The palate was too, and indeed, strove mightily to surpass the nose. Here it seemed to be going in reverse gear, with the acetones, paint thinner, turps and furniture polish dialled back, and the fruits surged to the fore – big, bold, piquant, ripe, luscious, fresh stoned fruit of all kinds. And not just fruit – funk, vanilla ice cream, some oak action (odd since it’s unaged), and a deep exhalation of port infused cigarillos, damp tobacco, tanned leather and the sweat of particularly well-used three day old gym socks.  Even the finish, medium long and vibrantly fresh, channelled something of this cornucopia, though you could see it was running out of steam and thankfully calmed down to show off some last apricots, yellow mangoes, pineapples and gooseberries – plus some cherry coke and ginger in the final stages.

That’s quite a lot, yes: and I’m not saying that this is the best and most perfumed rum you’ll ever drink and introduce to all your non-rummy friends as the “one you have to try”; but in its wild cacophony of tastes and smells that pelt everything including the kitchen sink at your senses, it’s almost unbelievable that something so memorable comes out the other end. I particularly liked how Sugar House harnessed, balanced and almost-but-not-quite tamed an intensity and pungency of flavour that in less careful hands would have devolved into an uncoordinated, discombobulated mess.

So is it good, bad, great, or terrible? The answer is yes. To paraphrase a certain film I love to hate, it’s, All-Go-No-Quit-Big-Nuts rum-making, for good or ill (which makes the lack of follow-up batches by Sugar House something of a disappointment).  I think the Overproof is an amazing rum, with character and to spare. It sports big tastes, great aromas, and is one of the best and most original whites in recent memory, giving the Jamaicans a serious run for their money. It froths, it bubbles, it hisses, it spits, it takes no prisoners, it’s a joyous celebration of unaged rum, and if you don’t have an opinion on it when you’re done, any opinion at all, maybe you should check your insurance premium when you get home, because it might just have “deceased” stamped on it.

(#978)(90/100) ⭐⭐⭐⭐


 

Mar 032023
 

Sugar House, along with Ninefold, J. Gow, Islay Rum Co and other distilleries now opening in the UK, may represent the Brit’s answer to the diminution of the merchant bottling trade, or perhaps the growing expense of getting the best casks out of the brokerages by an ever-increasing number of independents. It speaks to the desire of a new crop of aggressive young Turks to not be beholden to third parties for barrels of rum or blending skills, but to let loose and harness their own creative impulses to the max, and go out there and break some sh*t, to see what comes out the other end, frothing and hissing and dissolving glasses, taste buds and noses in equal measure.

While excitement attends the opening of any new craft micro-distillery launched by some enthusiastic young bravos, visionary lone founders or a husband and wife team that subsist on pizzazz and chutzpah and high hopes more than cold cash, they tend to be found most often in the Caribbean, Asia or Africa, with a smattering elsewhere. One does not immediately think of Scotland as rum country, know what I mean? Yet slowly but surely, small, exciting, well branded and cannily-marketed little startups are beginning to make a dent in the rumiverse over there, and Sugar House is surely one of them.

Founded in 2017 by owner and distiller Ross Bradley, it is not located in some rolling peat-smelling Scottish highland glen with fog, heather and deer in all directions, but in the down-to-earth, less than romantic industrial area just north west of the small town of Dumbarton, itself to the NW of Glasgow. Initially he used the Strathleven Distillery to pot distil the rum (and called it the Spirit of Glasgow) but as of 2018, their own equipment probably arrived and Mr. Bradley set up shop in the Vale of Leven Industrial Estate. There, welding a hybrid 1400-litre pot still (with a 12 plate rectifying column bolted on) to imported high grade molasses (Wes noted in 2018 that it was from Guyana) and a week-long fermentation time, Sugar House produces a 90% ABV spirit. Some of that goes to age, some of gets released as an unaged white, still more goes into the spiced and infused rums they also sell, and some just gets tinkered with in one fashion or another and released as an experimental, limited edition. 

For the moment, none of these are under the microscope except the white, which in this case is from the 2022 batch on display at the first TWE Rumshow, and not the same as the blue labelled one Wes reviewed five years ago. He liked it a lot, and batch variation or no, new recipe or not, this Scottish rum packed quite a wallop for me as well.  Consider: the nose was light and fruity, felt solid and clean, and smelled fruity, a bit malty and even beer-like, with a nice play of hops lurking in the background. There was cardboard, light watery fruit, cherries, a fine touch of funkiness (not much), some green peas and melted butter, papaya and salt, and say what you will but I thought it was different and good (though I tried manfully to keep my face impassive at the booth that day and mumbled something doofus-like, like “Hmm” and “”ok” and “interesting” which probably made the guys wonder why they were wasting time talking to me).

For 43% the palate really was surprisingly robust as well.  Not sharp, just punchy – it channelled a sort of earthiness of dark wet loam, damp sea wind, and again, beer, mustiness, and some ashes (all this, in an unaged white rum?). It progressed sweetly and naturally to a sort of peppery, fruity, tart series of tastes – unsweetened yoghurt, pineapple and cordite mixed with sharp unripe fruits is the best I can explain it, though later some of the depth started fade as I stuck with it. It was remarkably pleasant by itself ( I was told it was even better in a mojito) and while the finish brought nothing new to the table — it mostly summed up the preceding experience — it was as sweetly and lightly loving as a wife’s kiss in the morning, and a nice summation of the drink as a whole.

It’s too early to tell the kind of impact a small craft distillery will have on the global rumisphere in years to come, but for now Sugar House is certainly making a splash locally and in Europe, where the desire of the tippling public for something new and interesting will certainly garner them plaudits and (hopefully) increase sales. Sales that I hope expand to other parts of the world, where stuff like this is in short supply as the race to premiumise gathers force and steam and relegates whites to the unfairly dismissed margins. But you know, I enjoyed and liked this standard proof unaged white rum a lot — the tastes were a mix of old and new, familiar and different, oddly unique and comfortingly the same…and it was a fun drink on top of it all. That sort of combination is rare, is welcome when it’s experienced, and to have it on display with products made so early in the lifecycle of a new company speaks well for their future endeavours.  I think it’s something of an undiscovered gem.

(#977)(84/100) ⭐⭐⭐½