Phraya “Deep Matured” Aged Thailand Rum – Review

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Mar 162026
 

The top end release of the Phraya triptych of aged rums that is released by Sang Som distillery in Thailand clearly seeks to dominate the premium aged rum space in Asia, and proudly boasts of the 8 gold medals it has won in various spirits competitions from 2012 to 2024. The bottle is handsome to a fault, the backstory is cute, the wording evokes interest, the price is high enough to suggest exclusivity, and the website is really pretty, with lots of nice photos and words.

Unfortunately, when we take all this apart, what remains is somewhat less than the sum of its parts. And that’s a shame for their premium edition, the so called “Deep Matured” Gold Rum since one is left with a vague feeling that more could have been attempted.  I tried all three of Phraya’s rums (Elements, Elements 8YO and this one) at the same time for over a few hours, and feel that this one rum may suffer most from not exceeding the expectations engendered by the presentation and marketing materials.

The production notes aren’t significantly different for any of these rums: age seems to be the only differential, and this is where perhaps more information rather than market-speak would have made a difference to our perceptions. Molasses made from local Thai cane, short fermentation, multi-column-still distillation, and then ageing in charred ex bourbon barrels for 7-12 years (the words “deep matured” have no meaning at all beyond being evocative), and bottled at 40%. 

Nose first: it’s clean and dry, even crisp, giving rise to scents of flambeed bananas, caramel, coffee grounds, toffee, salted dark chocolate, mocha and almonds – in fact the nuttiness is the clearest differentiator between this and the other two. Some overripe fruit, honey, coconut shavings, and there’s a whiff of oaken tannins and leather, perhaps some smoke to round things off. It’s rounded and soft, quite easy to sniff.

This soft roundness persists when you taste it. That’s not entirely a good thing: sure, we can taste leather, smoke, bananas, brown sugar, crushed almonds and cashews, vanilla, plus some cardamom and cloves. That part is nice, because it adds to the relative blandness of the other two rums in the lineup. What’s missing is a little balance that some lighter, crisper citrus would have brought to the party – there’s some fruit, sure, but it’s all overripe soft flavours – squishy mangoes, overripe pineapples, plums…nothing that gives it any kind of edge. Now, this makes it go down easy, and the finish repeats many of the same notes, yet all it does is make it a relatively unadventurous, soft sipping rum that doesn’t dare much and goes nowhere fast.

Some of the fault for this lies in the strength – I confess to feeling some impatience with that 40%. We’re in 2026 now, and you would think that anyone paying attention and reading the tea leaves would up the oomph on their top end rums by at least a point or five, yet no, Sang Som stayed stubbornly stuck at living room strength. Maybe that was for tax or export purposes, but you know what? I don’t care – because at the top of the company scale, one expects something different, better, more intriguing: a bit more bite and serrations, not an incremental improvement from the lower editions.

So, I’m disappointed. The rum is not precisely insipid – like the much derided Millonario rums from Rum Nation, there’s rather more under the hood than appears at first sip; yet it leaves us wishing for more, somehow, something that would excite our interest, tickle our noses and challenge our palates. Decent as it is, the Phraya Gold rum ends up being  just another middle aged rum that tries to use slick presentation to sell something that could have been better.

(#1142)(82/100) (⭐⭐⭐½)

Opinion – Phraya rums generally.

So with this review I looked at the range of Sang Som’s upscale offerings, and must concede that for now, it’s a muted sound and fury signifying very little, sorry. As with all rums that are made for different parts of the world and different cultures, I should be careful in that assessment, however, since what may not work for me will certainly work elsewhere (as the size of the company attests, they do have their market)

This leads me to wonder exactly who the rum is meant for.  Back in 2024 Phraya (or Sangsom Distillery, its owner) was starting to pop up on the western festival circuit, but the company’s rums had been available for years before that and made nary a splash. Even now they don’t, in spite of all the flash and glitter I mentioned in my opening blurb.

I have a feeling that the main market remains Asia, where such easy rums have a much longer and stronger tradition. If you were to gather a few mass market rums from there – Old Monk, Amrut’s stuff, Mekhong, Tanduay are some examples – you see the sort of similarity that perhaps is the reason they sell like crazy… but mostly there. This similarity is where I believe that such companies should tweak their production a little more to make them stand out and maybe differentiate themselves enough to go global. Granted, breaking into the major non-Asian markets, no matter where, may feel like a thankless task given the obstacles and regulations – but perhaps if they were to come up with something more original and more unique, while never entirely losing their local style… well, maybe we’d feel more positive about taking a flyer on a fifty-quid rum.

Other notes

  • Video recap link
  • Sang Som distillery was founded in 1977, and is supposed to be the oldest in Thailand.  It is located in Nakhon Pathom province, which is just to the west of the capital, Bangkok.
  • That Rum Drinker and The Fat Rum Pirate both rated it the equivalent of 4 stars out of 10, which is about 70 points on my scale.
  • The Phraya brand was first established in 2011 by Sang Som Distillery, itself owned by the spirits conglomerate known as ThaiBev. The name derives from a old time title of Thai nobility and can still be found in other contexts, such as the Chao Phraya river that runs through Bangkok. In the brand lineup, there are three different editions: the “Elements” standard edition, the Elements 8YO, and then this premium release, the impressively named “Phraya Double Matured Gold Rum”, which is a blend of 7-12YO rums.
  • “Elements” is pretty much a branding and marketing term, and refers to the four ancient elements of reality – fire, air, earth and water – which impact the making of rum. Me, I think it’s occasionally something of a stretch, but ok. The important thing to note is that the rum derives from molasses made from Thai sugar cane, has a short fermentation time, is run through a multi-column still, then aged in charred ex-Bourbon barrels. The barrels are apparently stored next to a series of lagoons that (according to the company website) cool the ambient temperature and somewhat retard the tropical ageing process.

Phraya “Elements” 8YO Thailand Rum – Review

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Mar 132026
 

In a previous review I looked at the entry level Phraya aged rum from Thailand, called “Elements”, and this one is not too far distanced from that one, except in so far that it has a definitive age statement – 8 years. However, it is an ongoing blended rum, so there is not a year of distillation or bottling to be found anywhere – and, as the brand rep at the German Rum Festival remarked to me, it is a relatively new product, having been introduced in 2023, almost a decade after the original edition came to market. Clearly, then, the original “Elements” sold well enough to warrant something a bit more upscale.

Production details remain the same: molasses from local sugar, short fermentation time, column still distillation, aged in charred ex-bourbon barrels, released at standard strength (40%). In that sense it is something of a Cuban / Latin / Spanish style rum, though I see little evidence of a set of white haired old maestros roneros standing around like old bull elephants at a watering hole, tasting carefully, muttering to themselves and doing their careful blending and barrel magic, the way they do in Cuba and elsewhere.

Which leads us to the tasting notes of this eight year old rum, now that we know that age aside it’s not a thousand miles away from its predecessor. The nose is quite nice –  easy, unaggressive, rum like. It noses lightly sweet, with overripe red grapes, oranges, mangoes n the edge of going off, plus some honey, vanilla and cardamom. There’s a really faint briny and fusel oil note being hinted at, but it’s too vague to comer to grips with and disappears too fast.

The palate? Well, it’s better than the previous version, though this may be damning it with faint praise. Slightly dry, slightly sweet. Grapes, honey, coconut shavings, crushed walnuts, a hint of macha tea (weird, right?). Again, cardamom, vanilla, some dry polished leather and smoke and if there’s any bitterness from the oak it was aged in, I couldn’t spot it.  The same is true of the finish, which is short, easy, and gives little more than some light fruits, honey and, of course, the vanilla. Ho hum.

As with the original Phraya Elements, we’re looking at a decent midrange rum that yes, can be sipped, and yes it will please, and no, there’s nothing bad to say about it – my feeling is simply that like its predecessor, it breaks no new ground. Tasted blind, you wouldn’t discern any serious differences with other middling-aged rums from elsewhere. To be fair, the aromas and flavours come out cleanly and crisply, with just enough complexity to make it better than sweetened nonsense, yet simultaneously with too little of anything – intensity or originality – to make a serious statement for either itself or Thailand. Aside from its exotic location, then, I’d much rather take a Bacardi Ocho for its lesser price, and the Hampden 8YO for a more intense and better flavour profile, and if I was restricting myself to Thai rums only, well, Issan and Chalong bay would still get my bahts first.

(#1141)(81/100) (⭐⭐⭐½)

Other notes

  • Video recap link
  • Sang Som distillery was founded in 1977, and is supposed to be the oldest in Thailand.  It is located in Nakhon Pathom province, which is just to the west of the capital, Bangkok.
  • The Phraya brand was first established in 2011 by Sang Som Distillery, itself owned by the spirits conglomerate known as ThaiBev. The name derives from a old time title of Thai nobility and can still be found in other contexts, such as the Chao Phraya river that runs through Bangkok. In the brand lineup, there are three different editions: the “Elements” standard edition, the Elements 8YO (this one), and then their premium edition, the simply named “Phraya Rum”, which is a blend of 7-12YO rums.
  • “Elements” is pretty much a branding and marketing term, and refers to the four ancient elements of reality – fire, air, earth and water – which impact the making of rum. Me, I think it’s occasionally something of a stretch, but ok. The important thing to note is that the rum derives from molasses made from Thai sugar cane, has a short fermentation time, is run through a multi-column still, then aged in charred ex-Bourbon barrels for five to seven years. The barrels are apparently stored next to a series of lagoons that (according to the company website) cool the ambient temperature and somewhat retard the tropical ageing process.

Phraya “Elements” Thailand Rum – Review

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Mar 102026
 

With the release of the Shakara rum by Velier a couple of years ago, and small-distillery bottlings made by Chalong Bay and Issan, Thailand has come into the spotlight as an Asian rum producer to which we should perhaps be paying more attention. For now the rums we know about are made mostly by such small producers, because even the big guns in Asia are somewhat less known (or revered) in the west – Mekhong, Naga, Tanduay, and ThaiBev’s Sang Som are some of them.

To this stable has been added the Phraya brand, first established in 2011 by the above-mentioned Sang Som Distillery, itself owned by the spirits conglomerate known as ThaiBev. The name derives from a old time title of Thai nobility and can still be found in other contexts, such as the Chao Phraya river that runs through Bangkok. In the brand lineup, there are three different editions: the “Elements” which we are looking at today, the 8YO, and then their premium edition, the “Phraya Deep Matured Rum”, which is a blend of 7-12YO rums.

“Elements” is pretty much a branding and marketing term, and refers to the four ancient elements of reality – fire, air, earth and water – which impact the making of rum. Me, I think it’s occasionally something of a stretch, but ok. The important thing to note is that the rum derives from molasses made from Thai sugar cane, has a short fermentation time, is run through a multi-column still, then aged in charred ex-Bourbon barrels for five to seven years. The barrels  are apparently stored next to a series of lagoons that (according to the company website) cool the ambient temperature and somewhat retard the tropical ageing process.

I am not convinced that any of these aspects particularly help or hinder what in the end, is a perfectly serviceable mid range 40% ABV rum for those who aren’t ito the spirit, and not one that stands out in any significant way. The nose is pleasant: deep caramel and vanilla notes, toffee, light smokiness, underlain with black grapes, red wine, and the deep scent of overripe mangoes. There’s a touch of citrus to provide a little bite, but not much more. Sweet?  Not really.

The taste is similarly unadventurous: at standard strength we aren’t seeing much more than the nose already gave us: honey, vanilla, creme brulee, toffee, with lighter fruity notes, the vague crispness of lychees and lemon zest (and not a whole lot of that), then coconut shavings and some kind of cola. The finish is clean and light – syrup, caramel, honey, vanilla, and that’s just about it.

Of late I’ve wandered around the world and tried rums from as many countries as I can, hoping to find new and interesting products that take the spirit in interesting directions, if not actual new ones. For all its size and popularity in Asia, I’m afraid this Phraya isn’t really it – it’s on par with a young Havana Club or Bacardi, which is not surprising since the short-fermentation, column-still, barrel driven philosophy is the same for all of them. It’s a decent enough product, does not feel “sugared-up” at all, and can be had by itself, neat, as a hot-weather drink, sure. Unfortunately, that’s all it is, and any hopes we had for something a bit more off the reservation remain unfulfilled … for now.

(#1140)(79/100) (⭐⭐⭐)

Other notes

  • Video recap link
  • Sang Som distillery was founded in 1977, and is supposed to be the oldest in Thailand.  It is located in Nakhon Pathom province, which is just to the west of the capital, Bangkok.
  • Not many reviews out there.  Serge Valentin of WhiskyFun rated it 75 points.

La Maison Du Rhum Fortin Distillery 2007 13YO Rum Batch 3 (Paraguay) – Review

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Feb 022026
 

Among South American rums, some countries just don’t make waves outside their own borders. How many of us have heard of Gran Chaco from Bolivia, or Isla Ñ and Tickerman from Argentina, for example? In Paraguay, the source of today’s review, we’ve been fortunate once before to try the “Herocia” from the Fortin brand, and here we have another one from the distillery of origin (see below for details), brought to us courtesy of La Maison du Rhum in France – this is in turn a 2017-founded brand of the French spirits distributor Dugas, and may be the only way we’re ever going to get a rum from such a relatively obscure (in rum terms) product.

The production notes are as follows, and have not appreciably changed since the original Heroica review. The rum is made from rendered sugar cane juice (“honey”), fermented for 72 hours using wild yeast, column distilled, then aged in a American ex-bourbon barrels, then given a few months’ additional finishing in Fino sherry casks, so it seems reasonable to suppose it’s double aged: in Paraguay and then in Europe. Given the outturn of nearly 4,000 bottles, I believe that LMdR got the final blended product and that part had some European ageing, including the finish, for a total of 13 years (but this is not for sure, since Fortin also does finishing). Released at a middling 45% ABV. Oh, and it should be noted that this is Batch #3 – as of early 2026 I think they are up to #6, all bottled in the forties ABV range.

This is where an indie bottling (which this is) gets more respect for disclosure that Fortin did – by a whisker. That is, unfortunately, not enough to elevate it over and above its sibling, even with the more serious age and the finish. Consider the nose. This is dusty and rather dry (the sherry influence helps here). Initial dry notes of cardboard, straw and damp tobacco, mix it up with vanilla, cinnamon, honey. A trace of glue and salted caramel, and if one strains, perhaps a touch of citrus and mango. 

Taste? Meh. Not much more here – the dryness persists, there’s some grapes, and glue, the mangoes (or is that pineapple?) hints are back, and beyond that it’s all the standard hits of a barrel aged rum – caramel, toffee, some coffee grounds, wet ashes, honey, cinnamon, vanilla and mild cigar smoke, all tied up with an unenthusiastic and quick finish that is as straightforward as all the preceding tastes, and adds nothing new to the party.

Honestly, even at 45%, it’s nothing special, and as I have noted before, any rum based on sugar cane juice – actual or rendered down – loses its connection to the terroire with prolonged barrel ageing, which is exactly what happens here. So one is left to wonder what the selling point of a rum so ordinary really is. The unusual country of origin? The bottler?

The original Heroica was bottled at 40% and that more or less failed – perhaps I was generous with that 79 point score back in 2020. Here, even at five proof points higher, it still doesn’t do much and scores a point less. For those who enjoy the easier, lighter Latin style of rum making, sure, why not? For those who like their uncompromising cask strength growlers, I’d suggest that even with La Maison’s imprimatur on the label, the ultimate result is a rum that is slickly made, nicely labelled, but buggy in execution, reminding me of nothing more than a premature software update which does nothing in particular and relies on the brand to sell.

(#1137)(78/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

Background

Paraguay — one of two landlocked countries in South America is something of a newcomer on the international rum scene, and most of the rums they have made that are distributed abroad have only come on the scene in the last two decades — previously, just about the entire production was local, or regional. So far they have stuck with the traditional rons and not gone too far off the reservation. All that is now changing, as they begin to seek a space on the export shelf.

Fortin, the overall brand of the distillery called Castilla, dates from the post-1989 era and takes advantage of a change in legislation regarding alcohol at that time. From 1941 to 1989 the production and sale of alcohol (and spirits) was a state monopoly, run by the Paraguayan Alcohol Corporation in which the Government and producers both had stakes.  Officially this was to rationalize standards, assign quotas, regulate competition and prevent tax evasion, but in reality it was to ensure the commercial elites went into business with the government to share in / siphon off the revenues.  After Alfredo Stroessner (the last of a series of military jefes ruling since the 1930s) was toppled in 1989 the laws were relaxed and private industry began to revive. 

Castilla Distillery was formed around 1993 as a sugar producer by Gustavo Díaz de Vivar, and although it started in Capiatá area to the immediate SE of the capital, Asunción, the company soon moved further east to the town of Piribebuy; after the sugar business took off, he and his son Javier Díaz de Vivar (the current president of the company) diversified into rum production with a multi-column still bolted onto the already existing sugar factory they had built..

The distillery is located on a small estate of about 1,500 hectares (~3700 acres) where the sugarcane is grown. The cane is cultivated according to organic farming principles and is apparently manually harvested. They age in all kinds of barrels – American oak (ex-bourbon), cognac, sherry, and also Marcuya “fruit of passion” wood from Paraguay.  Once that’s done, the resultant rons are blended to form the final product and released under the Fortin label, or, perhaps, sold on to brokers and intermediaries in Europe for the independent bottling scene.

Erie Distillery White Rum (USA) – Review

 1 Response »
Oct 192025
 

Recently, a rum that crossed my path was the US-made Erie White Rum, which is made in NE Pennsylvania by the Erie distillery, founded in 2019 by a Mr. David Harkness. This is a gentleman who has been playing with distillation since 2007, and he seems to be something of a cheerful mad scientist, experimenting with products as varied as limoncello, moonshines, whiskey, white rum, and vodka. In that way, he reminds me of some of the New Australians, who also go all over the map with their products so as to sell to just about anything to anyone who might want a drink.

That said, it’s unclear what the production process is and what the white rum is all about. The company website rather unhelpfully doesn’t mention where the molasses comes from (assuming that’s the base material for the rum – I think it’s likely); or what kind of still they have, or whether rum is truly unaged or aged and then filtered… you know, all the usual stuff you’d think anyone who is paying attention to the rum world would provide as a minimum. On FB and some news articles, however, I found that it’s a 8-inch-diameter, 9-foot-tall, 9-plate single-column stainless steel still that can pump out 95% ABV vodka, so, okay. The company seems to concentrate on whiskey more than anything else — rum, as is not unusual in the USA, being something of an afterthought.

Bottled at an inoffensive 40%, what we get is a nose that is at first blush watery and as mild as milquetoast, that takes the better part of fifteen minutes to open up just enough so we can sense other things. Those are, for the most part some lime scented sugar water, a touch of pickled cabbages (think kimchi), and as time wears on, more assertive lemon wedges can be smelled more distinctly. I had this one glass on the go for an hour, and let me tell you, what I’m writing here sounds simple, but it really did take that long to tease them out.

No help on the palate, I’m afraid. The rum’s mouthfeel was thin and scratchy, channeling the scrawny ferocity of an underfed alley cat. It tasted of sugar water, lime zest (or lemon – it’s close), more sour cabbage, cucumbers and white pepper, and no real fruitiness to speak of beyond some papaya and watery pears — and people, I’m reaching for that. No surprises, the finish was gone in a flash, with little to remember it by.  

Overall, it reminds me more of lemon flavoured vodka than a rum, there’s so little to set it apart. I am at a loss to explain that citrus-forward flavour, unless they did not clean out the still properly after making a batch of limoncello (in that way, it reminded me of El Destilado’s Mexican Aguardiente de Panela and the carryover of pine notes). That citrus note is fine, up to a point, but that’s all there really is and the other aromas and flavours are so meek that it comes off as milder than water, and about as interesting as a blank sheet of paper.

Think of all those small and passionate distillers in countries around the world — South Africa, rural Mexico, the clairins of Haiti, grogues of Cabo Verde, or the tiny distilleries in Laos, Viet Nam, Cambodia, Japan, Australia, New Zealand, to name but a few — and meditate on the difference between their successes or even their magnificent failures, and this relatively indifferent product.  When I see so many small micros from everywhere and anywhere try like hell to innovate, make something startling and new, all while adhering to tried and true traditions and wring serious magic from small stills held together by Bata flip flops, baling wire and some superglue, you can understand my impatience with the slapdash work Erie has put out here.

Sorry, but it’s a pass for me.

(#1133)(72/100) ⭐⭐½

Other notes

Opinion 

People think I enioy writing snarky reviews of rums that (on occasion) they themselves might like, made by small local distilleries which some believe should be supported as they get their sh*t up to scratch. Admittedly, low-rent, indifferently-made rums are fun to eviscerate and taking the language for a spin is occasionally enjoyable, but the truth is somewhat more nuanced.

For one, much as I believe that harsh criticism sometimes just has to be made, I don’t like taking apart the efforts of some new enterprise that’s employing people and trying to survive. Also, as an advocate for the spirit, I know it’s not always possible to make good hooch right out of the gate, much as I might want them to do better, so I do try to be optimistic and cut such joints some slack.

But, if you’ve been playing around with distillation for over a decade before starting a commercial enterprise, I would expect that you know what you’re doing (think of Robert Greaves of Mhoba, Keri Algar of Carabita, or Yoshi Takeuchi of Nine Leaves, as examples). I dislike subpar work tossed off just to round out the spirits portfolio and the “good ‘nuff” mentality that presupposes any rum bottled at 40% can find its legs and its market with a minimum of effort. 

And I don’t care overmuch for brands that put completely anonymous fare out the door, tell you almost nothing about it and hope sales will allow them to get better over time, when it’s clear no real thought went into crafting a decent rum in the first place – so, they went in with a hope and prayer and we have to subsidize improvement while they figure things out? That’s a hard bottle to sell, to me.

 

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

 1 Response »
Aug 222025
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1128)(86/100) ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

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

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

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Aug 132025
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1127)(84/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Other notes

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

Don Q Gran Reserva Añejo XO Puerto Rican Rum – Review

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Jul 282025
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1125)(84/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Other notes

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

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Jul 192025
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1123)(83/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

Rum Sponge 1998 Caroni 25YO Trinidad Rum – Review

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May 242025
 

There’s a reason I don’t buy many rums from the relatively recently established indie bottler of the Rum Sponge, and that’s all about the price. It’s not that I can’t afford one here or there, but to get them all is just too much, and leaves me like a smelly over-the-hill mendicant whining for samples from the more generously endowed. In this case, however, a Calgary Book Club whisky lover bought a bottle and brought it along just to have the rowdies try it, and I was able to sample it without denuding my already slim purse.

For those who are not familiar with it, Rum Sponge is a UK indie bottler, an offshoot of Angus MacRaild’s whisky facing Whisky Sponge brand, itself a part of his company Decadent Drinks. Angus has had an eponymous whisky blog running since about 2013 with witty and insightful posts on the subject, and a few years ago became a second contributor to Serge Valentin’s famed review site Whiskyfun. I don’t know how long he’s been bottling whiskies, but rums only started to come out around 2020 or so.

Edition No.1 rum, a Caroni, was issued in that year, and by 2025 Rum Sponge has released at least 35 different editions. Just about all are single casks (though there are a few blends) and characterized by Angus’s desire to issue rums that are distillate driven, which is something that is also part of his whisky bottling philosophy. I’ve tasted a few, and they’re pretty good for the most part, if expensive, and limited in geographical scope – all so far derive from only three countries: Guyana, Trinidad or Jamaica.

The rum we’re looking at today is from Caroni, a 1998 distillate, aged 25 years, and is Edition No.23.  The bottle remarks that it was aged some 11-13 years in Trinidad and the remainder in the UK, has a strength of 57.1%, a single barrel 250-bottle outturn, all of which is nice: yet curiously it doesn’t say whether it is column or pot or blend, which is an odd omission.

Be that as it may, I have to admit the rum is a very very good one: the man knows how to pick ‘em. Consider first the nose: it starts of dry, tannic, and has the immediate sense of bitter high-octane unsweetened dark chocolate. It melds well with caramel, molasses, vanilla and icing sugar, which linger for a while before being added to by dates, prunes, plums, dark olives, a little brine and (get this!) printer ink cartridges and iodine.  That’s quite a nose to unpack, trust me.

The palate is similarly intriguing and delicious: it tastes of tannins, crushed walnuts, almonds and black chocolate, and adds to it with more dark fruits (plums, prunes, etc). There are notes of caramel and vanilla, and the slightly bitter tannins take something of a back seat now, with a sweeter fruity aspect coming to the fore – five finger (carambola), peaches, very ripe mangoes, and orange peel.  It’s really quite tasty, and it slides into a surprisingly gentle yet long-lasting denouement of caramel, molasses, sugar water and fruitness that’s enormously alluring.

Overall, I like the way it segues from a crisp and almost bitter start to something mellower and sweeter, deeper and more rounded, as it opens up. The balance is excellent and the rum can be sipped with ease – the whisky anoraks who tried it were all quite fulsome in their praises, as I was, so it has an audience beyond just the deep rum divers who dissect every nuance of favoured distilleries. 

Yet, let’s be clear. There is little here that screams Caroni. The fusel oils, the dark petrol and kerosene tastes we associate with the type are mostly absent, so this is not a Caroni one should be starting with if one wishes to get a handle on the style – therein will lie disappointment. And then there’s the matter of the price – it’s Can$550. I can’t speak of the cost structure for Angus’s company or how much the barrel itself cost to buy or what ancillaries he had to pay for, but with so many other indies putting out equally aged rums over the last decade which are cheaper and of good quality, that just seems to be too much, even for a famous, closed distillery with limited remaining stocks. 

So based on those standards, I’d have to say that as a Caroni, the rum fails, and one would have to be a serious aficionado to pay the price to get it. But man, as a rum, just a rum – the thing is quietly outstanding. And I’m seriously glad I got chance to try it. It’s worth it for that alone.

(#1121)(90/100) ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

Don Q 151 Overproof Puerto Rican Rum – Review

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May 182025
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1120)(80/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

Bacardi Superior White Rum – Review

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Apr 272025
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1119)(70/100) ⭐⭐

Other notes

Shakara 12 YO Thailand Rum – Review

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Apr 072025
 

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

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

The Shakara rum straddles this divide. It is a molasses-based, column-still rum, made and aged completely in Thailand in the province of Nakhom Pathom, which I initially thought pinpointed the distillery of origin as Sang Som — but I have been told (twice) that this is not correct and the arrangement between Velier and the producer requires the distillery bot to be mentioned, so it remains a question mark. It has been aged for twelve years in situ, but again, we are not told anything about what kind of barrels they used (I’ve read elsewhere that it’s ex-bourbon), or any more detail about the production process – we can assume it’s the same as the Phraya, perhaps, but the pickings are slim there too.

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

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

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

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

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

(#1115)(83/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

Other notes

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

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

 3 Responses »
Mar 282025
 

The label of this rum has several variations, but all of them have the word “Strong” in bold red capitals right up front, just to grab the attention, warn the unwary and make sure the timid don’t set fire to themselves with an involuntary flatus. Although when you consider the wannabe beefcake power of 80% ABV, you could reasonably wonder who except a cigar-chomping, glute-flexin’ badass (or brain dead reviewer with access to too many rums and a few screws loose) would even try to drink such a product neat…and for what reason?

In the evolution of very strong rums, there are a few regularly made hooches issued by commercial enterprises (not indie bottlers who often gleefully try to cheer themselves up by torqueing their single cask sh*t to the max) that remain on sale. Such rums tend to be pure or lightly aged column still blends, such as every 151 ever made, the Sunset Very Strong from St Vincent (84.5%), The Rivers Antoine overproof (90% and 75%) that you can’t take off the island of Grenada, Suriname’s Marienburg 90 (90%), Stroh 80 or 160 (Austria, 80%). They provide a lot of bartenders much amusement with ferocious mixes like the B-52 and the Zombie, and remain a staple of the cocktail culture. Few are the brave souls who drink such rums neat.

That’s understandable because very high proofed rums are almost all column still, and much of the taste has been stripped away by the distillation process resulting in that high strength. There is almost no point in trying to do a taste test on one, yet, here we are and here I am. 

Nosing it demonstrates the point. Merde but this is serious. It’s strong and very sharp, and I recommend letting it breathe for a while so that the alcohol burns off. Once that’s done subtle flavours timidly start to creep out, as if afraid they’ll be coshed. Cream and strawberries, wet coconut shavings, a touch of brine, metal filings, some medicinal notes, and soft fruits like bananas, white guavas, pears, and a tiny hint of red grapefruit. More should not be expected, really, but it’s pleasing to even get this much from such a high proof rum where more often than not ethanol and turpentine are the core aromas.

The palate takes no prisoners either. It’s less than the nose in all ways, hot, spicy and very intense, yet for all that, there are some flavours one can sense through the heat. Crazily enough this is like lipstick and plasticine and bath soap, some vague bananas and those coconut shavings, but what’s notable is the sheer intensity of it all – this is the sort of rum you can imagine the Expendables quaffing by the tankard after offing a bunch of bad guys. There’s more of that ashy-metallic back taste, and a finish that seems to want nothing more than to last forever and shave the back of the throat with a rusty razor. Sure there’s a bit of fruit and plastic and maybe a pinch of salt, but overall, there’s not much to report on, on the close.

So once I finished my half hour session with it, what do I think of it? Well, admittedly, it’s eye-watering, once I dried out my eyeballs and stuck them back in. My sense of discovery (and humour) usually makes trying such batsh*t crazy rums a sort of masochistic and morbid exercise leading to an excess of long words lifted from my thesaurus, and this was no different.  Much like others of its kind, it doesn’t have a whole lot in the kitchen sink it throws at you, but you know what? It’s kind of interesting, if not particularly memorable (except, perhaps, for having survived it). 

There are some flavours and scents that make it past the firewall, and with caution and some dilution it could be had and appreciated. But not enough to matter – this is a rum that has to be mixed, or has to be diluted. I don’t often say that, but here, to appreciate it better (within its limits), it’s definitely the only way to go

(#1112)(77/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

  • Video recap link
  • “Denros” is a name created by combining the names of the last two distilleries existing in St. Lucia which merged in 1972 to create St. Lucia Distillers: the Dennery Distillery owned by the Barnard family, and the Roseau Bay Distillery owned by the Geest family. So “Den” + “Ros”, simple enough.
  • According to Difford’s Guide, in an undated post, this rum is implied to be made as far back as the 1930s, by the Dennery Distillery from the date of its establishment in 1932.
  • Although SLD does have pot stills, this is a continuous (column) still product.

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

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Dec 092024
 

N4026

Background

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

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

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

The Rum

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1100)(79/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

Company Bio (summarized from a longer work in progress)

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

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

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

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

 

Don Q Gold Puerto Rican Rum – Review

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Oct 222024
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(#1095)(78/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes 

La Maison & Velier 2018 Vietnam 6YO Rum – Review

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Oct 052024
 

In any festival featuring rums, there are always a few that are special (if only to oneself), and the larger the festival the more they are…and usually, the harder they are to find. Sometimes they only exist below the counter, provided by people who know (and hopefully like) you enough to spot a shot. Occasionally, you are alerted to potential finds by fellow enthusiasts who scurry around ferreting out the new, the amazing, the obscure, or the just plain batsh*t crazy, and then they tell you — maybe. Alas, in many cases there are only limited stocks and others are sure to be there before you — so if you dally and tarry, you’re out of luck. And so you hustle to get your dram…if any is left.

At an event as large as Paris’s 2024 WhiskyLive, which I attended a few days ago for the second time, the problem becomes acute because at the VIP area where almost all such nuggets are to be found, all the top end spirits and new releases are jammed together and the booths are five and six deep in people wanting to do exactly what you are. In this way I missed out on a 1950s Cuban rum (sniffed but not tasted), a LMW full proof rum from Cambodia (never even spotted), and several fascinating rums from the Caribbean (the list is long). There just wasn’t enough time or enough energy to elbow one’s way past and through the crowds.

But on the flip side, I managed to try this surprising rumlet, on the very last day, in my final hours: a cane juice rum from Viet Nam’s Quang Nam province, distilled on a French copper column still and then aged in ex-bourbon and ex-Cognac casks (we are not told how much of each), before being bottled six years further on, at 56.9%. That’s pretty much all we get. It has been placed in the annual La Maison collection called Foundations, and is itself a part of the LM&V series called “Flags”, which are all distinguished by labels bearing a stylized – almost abstract – flag of the country of origin. 

Because we see so little rum from Asia that isn’t messed with in some way or issued at some yawn-through low strength, you can understand my eagerness to try it. I can assure yo, this six year old does not disappoint. It noses in a faintly vegetal way, redolent of grass and cane sap. It is quite pungent and aromatic to a fault, channelling a crisp semi-sweet white wine, ripe green grapes, a touch of brininess, combined with vague notes of lychees and green apples.  There are even scents of hot pastries, lemon meringue pie, plus a dash of white chocolate and – I swear this is true – raw potato peelings.

This all comes together in a palate of uncommon restraint, at that strength. It’s salty and very crisp, with a grain background that makes it almost whisky-like, yet there are sweetish notes too, as well as caramel, toffee, white chocolate and almonds and a creamy unsweetened greek yoghurt. There are some watery white fruit in evidence – pears, melons, white guavas, that kind of thing – and the general taste is of something quite light and perfumed, leading to a civilised and easygoing finish, quite aromatic and fruity and floral, yet with some breakfast spices as well. It’s really pleasant rum to drink and not one I’d care to mix, really.

The rum noses really well and tastes even better, and still manages to carve out its own little niche with some subtle hints of terroire that distinguish it from the rhums adhering to more exacting AOC standards, with which we are also more familiar.  That’s its attraction, I think, that air of something at a slight remove from the well known. Yet the final impression one is left with is that the agricole nature of it all has started to recede as the age increases and the barrels take on more of an influence, and dilute the distinct notes of its origin.  

That’s an observation, not a criticism, because overall, the rum is great – and my score reflects that.  I just want you to be aware that even at a mere six years of age, we are losing a little of that clear sense of origin – something that says “Vietnam”.  And to get that, we may have to turn to the source, and check out a white or two from there.  Until we can do that, we must be grateful for this one: because this rum is no slouch, is a good addition to anyone’s collection, and deserves too be sampled. And keeping in mind my desire for the new and obscure, am I ever glad I tried it. 

(#1092)(86/100) ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

  • Video Recap is here
  • Outturn is 193 bottles. The LMV catalogue says 440+ but since the catalogue goes to print before the final bottling, I take the label as my guide here.
  • The question of course is which distillery made it, and my own educated guess is based on the following factors: the province of Quang Nam, the French copper pot still, and the fact that no fly-by-night small-batch operator would interest Velier or La Maison – at the very least there would have to be some street cred involved, and that eliminates Belami (too small), Mia (wrong location, different still), or L’Arrange (too involved in fruit infusions). Which leaves just one which ticks all the boxes – Sampan, of which I’ve tried just one, and was mightily taken by. If I’m right about that, a brief company bio is in the review of their white overproof rum.
  • Thanks to Kegan, who sent me to the right place just in time to get a final dram from the chaotic counter.

J. Bally Rhum Agricole Blanc (55°) – Review

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Jul 292024
 

As some of my previous reviews of white rums from North America have shown, I am not that enthusiastic about much of what passes for their idea of a white. Too often the juice for which we are asked to part with our money is a cheap multicolumn ethanol substitute trying to copy Bacardi’s famed profile – light, inoffensive, anonymous, meant only to disappear into a cocktail while erasing its own presence like a Cheshire Cat.

That said, there has always been indigenous white lightning made on village stills and small entrepreneurs all over the world, as well as the famed French island unaged agricoles. Because of the AOC designation there are rather more rules in play on these islands now, as opposed to the free-wheeling “anything goes” nature of, say, clairins. But I argue that since the quality of agricole rhums remains so high (at whatever age), this is not necessarily a bad thing.

What is unusual about J. Bally’s white rhum here, is the somewhat high strength of 55° – most agricoles tend to be around five degrees of proof lower (with some exceptions — like the Neisson L’Espirit 70° Blanc, or the A1710 Blanc at 66° or white rums from other islands). And of course there are always 40% ABV variations for the tamer export market.

The specs: it is very similar to the 50° Blanc which I’ve already looked at in Review #584. Like all Bally rums, it’s cane juice origin, AOC certified, just over half pure alcohol (55% ABV), and unaged (rested for a few months in stainless steel tanks before bottling). More cannot be said at this juncture, but that’s enough for government work.

The exact rationale for issuing this rhum at all given how close in strength it is to its lower proofed cousin, is unclear – but it’s good, very good.  The nose starts right out the gate with an intense salty and sweet grassy note, crisp green apples, a very light citrus line, with a pleasant herbaceous, even floral scent backgrounding the lot.

The palate is, I think, excellent, and the extra proof point gives it a sort of rough muscularity which works well. The sweet aromatic herbs return to do their thing and position it as a true agricole; there are figs, lychees, persimmons, dates and licorice in the foreground, while olives, sugar cane sap, peaches, damp aromatic wine-soaked tobacco and a sly hint of herbs like dill and cardamom bring up the rear. You can sense some pears in syrup and white guavas as well and it concludes with a firm and long lasting finish that it fruity, grassy, clear and crisp and brings a nice conclusion to the whole business

White rhums when made right are excellent to have on their own and are the closest thing to true terroire you can find – which is why it irritates me when garden-variety filtered plonk is positioned as some kind of elixir of the gods in advertising materials. People who swear by lightly aged, filtered whites have good reasons for liking and endorsing them: but such rums do not have a tenth of the character possessed by a single well-made agricole … such as this one.

What’s interesting about this edition of the Bally blanc series of rhums, is that the tasting notes are so similar to the others, like the 40° and 50° – it’s almost like they took the strong stuff off the still and just progressively diluted it (although I stress that there’s no evidence fort this at all, it’s just my supposition…and they may indeed be made with slight variations for each). But even with that similarity, there is enough intriguing originality here, enough of a snap-crash-bang, to set the stronger version above its cousins. If I had a choice, this is the one I’d buy.

(#1083)(87/100) ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Other Notes

Historical Background (adapted from Review #552)

Bally was named after Jacques Bally, a graduate of a top engineering school in Paris, the Ecole Centrale des Arts et Manufactures (ECP, founded in 1829) – he snapped up the Lajus Plantation on Martinique in 1917, a mere fifteen years after Mount Pelee erupted, when memories of that disaster were still fresh and land prices were cheap (Lajus, founded in 1670, was already in foreclosure, having gone bankrupt after the 1902 disaster). By 1920 he had installed new steam engine, fixed up the salvageable equipment he could and (legend has it) pretty much built his own column still from scratch.  

In that same year the nearby Habitation Dariste owned by the the Gronier family went bankrupt and Bally bought it in 1923 and moved the distillery equipment to Lajus to augment his own machinery. In 1930, by which time he was already laying away rum stocks to age, he also had a hand in designing the signature pyramidical and square bottles which became so associated with Bally in later years. The rhums Bally made were very popular, sold well, and the company remained in business until the 1980s when Remy Cointreau acquired it, at which point production was shut down at Lajus and moved to Domaine du Simon where (as far as I know), it’s still being made, with cane from Lajus. Note that in 2003 La Martiniquaise bought out Saint James and Bally (to add to their rum portfolio which already contained the brands of Depaz, Dillon, Negrita and Old Nick) which is why the Remy Cointreau’s webpage makes no mention of either one now and why, in Modern Caribbean Rum, Matt Pietrek locates Bally as a brand in the section under St. James.

Bumbu XO Blended Panamanian Rum – Review

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May 032024
 

Sooner or later, even those rums that many regard as no more than the mangy spirituous curs, the spavined, rice-eating, lice-ridden mongrels of the rum world, need to be acknowledged. We all know who makes them, and who they are. To those who dislike them, they yap at the doorsteps of the rumhouse with an incessant sort of insistence day in and day out, and are dissed and dismissed with sneers and contempt at every turn. And yet there are those who swear by them with truculent blue collar appreciation as well: such rums have always existed, and have always invited disputation. They are part of the Great Rum Tree, and must be acknowledged at some point, if only to demonstrate what they are and why they elicit such strong reactions.

Bumbu, in spite of the suggestive narrative on their website, is not a distillery, it’s a brand owned by Sovereign Spirits which also owns similarly hyped and marketed sparkling wines, gins, liqueurs and three Bumbu products, two of which pass for rums with only the greatest of generosity. They are all aimed squarely at the cocktail crowd and show off slick press, cool looking bottles, celebrity endorsements, and make absolutely no imprint on the minds of those who actually know their drinks. And who is Sovereign? A family owned spirits company from NY founded in 1999 by ex-merchant banker and entrepreneur Brett Berish, with a wide marketing footprint around the world.

To understand exactly what excites the reactions to the brand that it does, one has to go back to the Original (which I’ve tried but never written about). This was a rum that emerged around 2017 or so and was supposedly made from a Barbados distillery in existence “since 1893”, which is to say, WIRD. Serge of WhiskyFun, in a savagely eviscerating review that awarded a contemptuous 15 points to this 35% “rum” (it is now marketed as being spiced, though it was not at the time) remarked that it was blended with other countries’ rums but I’ve seen no other corroboration of this claim. At 35% ABV and testing out at 40g/L of added sugar and tarnished by all the subsequent bad press WIRD’s owners got, and its undisclosed additives, it was no surprise that connoisseurs avoided it like the plague. Yet so popular did the rum prove – let’s face it, easy and non-complex and tarted-up spirits are catnip to those who just want to get hammered on something that tastes ok – that a mere couple of years later, the XO came on the scene.

The XO boasted the same slick marketing. Originating from Panama this time, words like “premium” “craft” “by hand” “artisanal” “120 year old distillery” and “18 years” were tossed around, the presentation was first rate and was competitively priced. No mention has ever been made about a solera style system (which is suspected by many since 18 YO rums do not usually got for €40), but parsing the language finds the usual weasel words of “up to 18 years old” on some websites, which nails it as a blend about which we therefore know nothing — especially the proportions — except that it comes from Don Jose distillery, is columnar still and made from molasses in the Latin/Spanish style. Aged in ex-bourbon and finished in sherry barrels. Being issued at 40% is, I guess, a step up for the producers, who trumpeted it as “full strength.” Right, But in an interesting turnaround, my hydrometer clocks this at 38.25% ABV…or 8g/L of something added, which is not a whole lot – it may be that they’ve been revamping the blend somewhat of later, who knows?

So, with all this introduction out of the way: does it work or not, and is it a “boring” piece of blah, as Wes Burgin remarked in his own 1½ star 2019 review?

Yes and no. It’s way better than the oversweet mess that was the banana confected coconut-tasting Original I recall from a traumatic tasting a few years ago. It’s crisper on the nose, with elements of banana, damp tobacco, ginger, molasses, brown sugar, coffee, vanilla and caramel.  All the usual hits are playing, in other words. The additives are there, while fortunately having a less than overwhelming impact in how it smells. 

It’s on the palate that it fails, I think. Here there’s much less to enjoy. Tannins, coffee grounds, caramel and vanilla, some molasses and sweet cherries…even the faintest hint of astringency. It’ll bite at the tongue somewhat, sure: what starts to happen as it opens up, however, is that the sugar (or whatever else they added in to smoothen things out) begins to flatten out the peaks and troughs of what could have been a much more interesting rum if left to develop on its own without it. It just starts to feel vaguely one dimensional after a few minutes and adding in “a single ice cube” as the web entry suggests is ludicrously self defeating — it closes up the drink so you get even less than before. The finish is almost nonexistent, whispering of ginger, coffee, tannins and tumeric, but honestly, it’s slim picking by this point.

Summing up, there’s some bite here, quite welcome and as the notes above demonstrate, you can sink your teeth into it and enjoy it…up to a point. I’m not sure making it stronger would help, frankly, there’s simply too little to work with.  Moreover, as with many such rums made in this way, there’s no sense of originality or something that would make you sit up and take notice. It could come from anywhere, be made by anyone, and exists to sell not to enjoy.

So: no real information on bottle or website; no age statement that can be trusted; flashy pizzazz and marketing; a profile that’s indifferent; standard strength; not a whole lot to be tasting. It’s the sort of entry-level rum that’s made to move by the cartload, and evidently it does. For those who actually know their rums or care that they are well made, it’s a product that is content to be boring, I guess, and one they would be happy to pass by for that reason.  Rightfully so in my view, because there’s too little here to make even that low price seriously attractive.

(#1069)(76/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Savanna Rhum Traditionnel Vieux 2004 9 YO “Intense” (Porto) – Review

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Feb 122024
 

It’s about time to clear up a backlog of older tasting notes that have been shoved to the back by newer and more exciting releases, and so for the next few weeks we’ll try to push some reviews of older expressions out the door. Today we’re going to go back and look at Savanna, that Reunion based distillery which has had a fair amount of good press over the last five years, though perhaps more remaining more popular and well known in Europe than the Americas.

What distinguishes Savanna is the range of what they make. Many distilleries have ranges that are steps of the quality ladder: some have lightly aged and filtered white rums, and cheaper mass-market blends made for mixing, for the budget-minded cost-conscious proles. The next rung would be rums aged up to maybe five or six years, costing a bit more but still affordable to most, moving slightly away from the cocktail circuit without entirely entering the sipping area. Once they get to double figures, say 10-15 years or so, it’s getting premiumised and more to have without mixing, and after 18 years, say, it’s entering rarefied territory. Around this price point are also found special editions, millesimes, limited blends, single barrel releases, commemoratives and other fancy releases that go north of three figures easy. These days secondary maturations or finishes are pretty much found on all levels (except the unaged whites for obvious reasons).

Savanna stands out in that it makes rums from both molasses and cane juice, instantly doubling the potential variety it makes. Just to keep all the permutations clear is probably why they have all those names for their rums: the “Intense” series are molasses-based and relatively low on esters, hence their being named “starter rums;” the “Lontans” (also called grand arôme rums) which are also from molasses but with longer fermentations and with a high resultant ester count; there are also the “Créol” rhums which are straightforward rhum agricoles, made from fresh sugar cane juice; and the “Métis” rums which are a blend of traditionnelle and agricole. Millesimes, fancy finishes and special editions at all strengths pepper their output as well.

From the above, then, you can get a clear picture of what this rums is: a molasses based low-ester blended rum, laid to rest in 2004, aged for 9 years in ex-cognac casks and then finished in a porto cask, released at 46%. These days that’s the spec for a really decent rum, but in 2014 when this came out, they called it a starter, which shows something of how much the world has moved on, and may be why so few reviews of it exist out there. 

Compared to some of the other Savanna rums tried in this lineup, the nose of this 46% rum presents as nuttier and slightly fruitier (strawberries, mild pineapple, cherries); there is a light aroma of acetones and nail polish wafting around and it’s very tart and pleasant…though I’m not sure I could pick it out of a lineup if tried blind.  After some time we have caramel and blancmange and toffee, swiss bonbons, vanilla, and a strong Irish coffee (used to love those as a young man). There is a dry wine-y note in the background, and some slightly bitter tannics reminiscent of pencil sharpener leftovers, none of it particularly excessive, more like a soft exclamation point to the main thrust of the nose.

The palate is somewhat of a letdown: I’ve been whinging about the mild inoffensive anonymity of 40% rums lately, so it’s surprising to find a rum six points higher providing so little character on its own account. It’s light, watery and sharp and none too impressive. Honey, nuts, dry pastries, toffee oatmeal cookies – it’s like a breakfast cereal with some extras thrown in. A bit salty and creamy here and there as the tasting goes on, with red grapes, pancakes, caramel, light molasses and some coffee grounds making their appearance, and they all vanish quickly in a short, sharp finish made exceptional only by its brevity.  

Overall, this is something of a disappointment, coming as it does from a distillery which makes some really impressive drams. Overall, one must concede that it’s not completely delinquent in taste – it does have aspects that are well done, and the assembly is decent: you will get a reasonable sip out of it.  It’s just there isn’t enough on stage for the €90 it goes for, it’s all quite simple and light… and one is left with the question of whether this is a poor man’s sipper or an indifferent high-end rum that got made too fast and issued too early. The fact that Savanna ended up releasing several 12 YO editions from the 2004 distillery outturn (including a grand arome I thought was superlative) suggests the latter may hit closer to the mark.

(#1057)(80/100) ⭐⭐⭐

Other notes

  • This is part of a collection of Savanna rhums Nico Rumlover sent me some time ago when he heard I was interested, long enough back for him to conceivably have forgotten he did so. Well, whether he remembers or not, I’m immensely grateful for the time he took to crate me a great selection of what the distillery can do. 
  • There are several 2004 Porto Finish single barrel editions out there: I have found two Lontans from different barrels, one eight and one nine years old, this 9YO Intense and a couple of 12YO editions. I’m sure there a few others.
  • Distilled April 2004, aged 9 years; outturn 1327 bottles. Initially I supposedly the notation of the barrel number (#973) was what it was aged in, but observed there was also a 2004 12YO which also has cask #973 marked on it and that one has an outturn of 1480 bottles. Facebook netizen Jizeus Christ Guitare set me straight by informing me this was the number of the Porto cask, which makes more sense, as it could reasonably be used multiple times. Given the outturn one wonders whether it’s a port pipe or other large cask.
  • For further reading on Savanna, I wrote a too-brief historical backgrounder on the distillery, here. A more recent visit to Reunion with a tour of the distillery was described by Rum Revelations in 2022.
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