Introduction
The Neisson Rhum Vieux Agricole “Cyril Kongo” Martinique Rum is a rhum that leaves me deeply conflicted. It is so limited you’d hardly ever see it, it’s extraordinarily tasty, one of the best rhums I’ve tried in ages, has a presentation ethos off the scale – but it’s so damned expensive that one is left wondering who the hell could possibly afford it, and for what purpose. For, as I remarked once before on another uber-pricey rum, if you could afford it could you appreciate it, and if you could appreciate it, would you even be able to buy it? This is the central issue facing rum lovers who, with products like this, are left wondering who it’s made for.
Background
Founded in 1922 and with a distillery in operation since 1931, Neisson remains one of the few independent family-owned and operated distilleries on Martinique. Beset on all sides by distilleries owned by larger companies and conglomerates, it has fiercely held on to its artisanal traditions, yet remains a relatively small operation that survives by quite simply making exceptional rums. It’s no accident that Velier esteems them among the best of the agricole rhum makers they partner with, and has a long association with them.
I say exceptional, and I’m not joking: sure, Neisson has a stable of regular AOC-compliant agricole rhums, as most producers on the island do, but every now and then they produce something that’s a little off the beaten track, something more premium and pricey, going all the way back to the Tatanka I bought so many years ago. Currently these include the Cuvee Sascha, the Armada Series, the Jerboam, the Ninaginta, and the Zetwal. And this one: the “Cyril Kongo” three-cask series, many of which are edging into four figure territory.
All that preamble requires quite a bit of unpacking: first of all it’s a ten year old aged rhum, distilled in 2013 from sugar cane juice, and after an initial ex-bourbon or ex-cognac barrels for eight years, it was further aged for two more in Mizunara-wood casks, not something that was considered particularly normal back in the day (and even now). Three casks (#282, 283 and 284) were then separately bottled into 33 carafes from each cask, and each carafe of the three sets has its own Cyril Kongo art piece to go alongside it – and those 33 pieces all consolidate into one coherent whole. Over and above the intrinsic quality of the rhum inside, then, that presentation elevates it, in the opinions of its sellers, to art.
Tasting notes
I thank my lucky stars I had no idea what i was getting into when I was given the small bottle to evaluate. I knew of Neisson, of course, and have been a fan for some time, but beyond that I had nothing to go on. And so, with the blissful ignorance and innocence of the untrained, I sailed into the tasting, and believe me, it was and remains quite an experience
This may be one of the loveliest rums I’ve ever tried. What’s impressive about it, is that it strikes a perfect balance between the agricole herbals and grassy notes, as well as the aged component given over by the barrel. Initial scents billow softly out of the glass: deep and pungent, spices, cinnamon, sweet paprika, vague caramel and vanilla notes, even a touch of wine. There is also a fair bit of dark honey fresh off the comb, accompanied by wax, rubber, turpentine, acetones. And as if that is not enough (and God knows, that’s a lot), I also smelled, with a real sense of pleasure, a touch of anise and licorice with a sprig of thyme and mint. And to round things off – yes, there’s more – some cardboard and musty wallpaper of an old house. I would like to point out that there’s no meaty hogo aspects to the nose at all, which perhaps is a good thing – that might have introduced a dichotomy to the profile that would not have succeeded as well as this one currently does.
Well, that’s a hell of a start, but does the taste keep up the high standard? Yes, I think so. The texture and mouthfeel are amazing – firm and strong without bitchiness. There’s no savagery to this, no sharp bite of rough edges, just a firm amalgam of the various notes that come together in an extraordinarily well-balanced way. It starts off with spices, sweet, salt, brine, incense sticks i a temple, fresh loam, freshly peeled potato skins, chocolate, coffee, cedar, sandalwood It gives so much… and then a little more. Black pepper, cinnamon, thyme and mint again, honey and that waxy note. And, yes, the herbals remain, hearkening back to the cane juice origins – dill, parsely, cardamom, fresh cut grass, pears, watermelon. It’s just the slightest bit sweet, enough to balance the salt and sharper notes to make for a smooth and silky dram that presses all the right buttons, and even the finish, while not introducing anything new, does give grapes, raisins, soft fruits, peaches, spices and herbs, in a gentle, susurrating endgame that can’t be faulted.
Now, the interesting thing is the effect of that Mizunara cask. Mizunara is considered one of the rarest and most difficult woods to use effectively — because while aromatic, is also porous, and quite fragile. Japanese whiskies are known for using it, though only recently have rum makers jumped on board as well. I can’t speak for its impact here since my experience with the wood is rather minimal, but whatever it achieves in providing the tasting notes described above – it works. It works damned well.
Summing up
So, let’s clear the dishes. In fine, this Neisson rum is the whole package, in a way we don’t get very often. Scents and tastes are really well balanced, very precise, clearly distinct and flavourful. The strength is perfect for what it sets out to achieve, and I think that the tannins are not overwhelming here, but well integrated into the sweet, salt and mellower aspects. In fine, it’s a rum you could try all night long, and still find new reasons to love it. It deserves all the accolades it gets.
Addendum
And this brings me back to the price. For most of the last twenty years, most rums that command five figures are released by independents, and they are priced by secondary markets. Some of the older Veliers fall into this category (the early Caroni rums, or the Skeldon 1973 and 1978). Occasionally, we would see very old rums from Ago pop up for sale, such as a Navy rum flagon, an Appleton 17YO from the dawn of the tiki era. or a rum from the pre-war years like the Bally 1924, Sant Andrea 1939, the Saint James 1885 or the Harewood House 1780. But again, we see these mostly on auction sites, not on regular sale. If a primary producer releases a halo rum that goes for ten grand or up, then it’s a very limited special edition such as the El Dorado 50th Anniversary, or the Appleton 50YO. Usually there is a very hefty age involved and a designer bottle that may cost more than the rum itself.
The Neisson “Cyril Kongo” — irrespective of which of the three casks it comes from — does not neatly fall into any of these categories. It’s ten yeas old, has an extraordinarily small outturn, and rather than a Lalique cut glass crystal decanter, has a piece of unique artwork included (which is where I suspect the stratospheric price originates). But whatever its cosmetic and artistic adornments are, is it really worth shelling out €19,500?
No. Sorry, but no. This is a collector’s edition. It is made for presentations to titans of industry and grand politicos, presidents and ambassadors and visiting royalty. For collectors it’s an investment that they hope will appreciate in value (though the Dark Matter auction from a few years ago might conceivably give them pause). Even serious bar owners like Martin Cate (who, I once heard, bought a Last Drop Jamaica 1976 for five grand for his establishment and then feared to open it) would likely balk at dropping that kind of coin. Luca, probably, since he’s even more certifiable than I am.
But you and me? No way. We’re priced out of the market on this one, and while I readily and happily concede that it really is a wonderful, exceptional piece of work, I’d have to win a lottery, offer a rum-soaked kidney, and maybe sell my firstborn, just to afford the cork on this amazing rum. On a value for money basis, I’d pass. Only as an investment for the next generation, would I even consider such a purchase.
(#1152)(92/100) ⭐⭐⭐⭐½
Other notes
- YouTube video review link
- I am indebted to my good friend Weixiang Liu, whose original article on 88Bamboo in 2024 provided some background, and who gave me more details about the artwork. His article provides more background than this overlong review allows, and is well worth reading.




Rumaniacs Review #073 | 0488
Rumaniacs Review #072 | 0486
Rumaniacs Review #071 | 0484
Palate – Thrumming and deeply vibrant rhum, one wonders how they wrung such depth out of a “mere” 48% – however, I’m not complaining. Dark and hot black tea. Ripe apricots, overripe mangoes, honey, cherries, wound about and through with citrus peel. Also some anise, coca cola (odd, but there you are). Dill, sage, a flirt of mint, grass, a faint wine-y tone and yes, there’s a whiff of chocolate as well.
Rumaniacs Review #070 | 0482
Rumaniacs Review #068 | 0478
Rumaniacs Review #067 | 0476
Nose – Starts easy, yet with enough bite to announce itself. Salty pecans, licorice, caramel and raisins (not really the opening I was expecting from an agricole, to be honest). It’s also light with florals, some nuttiness and a blade of pungent crushed lime leaves running through it. Grasses and herbs stay well back, and it morphs nicely into a sort of fanta-orange juice blend, combining snap with tastiness.








I speak of course of that oily, sweet salt tequila note that I’ve noted on all Neissons so far. What made this one a standout in its own way was the manner in which that portion of the profile was dialled down and restrained on the nose – the 43% made it an easy sniff, rich and warm, redolent of apples, pears,and watermelons…and that was just the beginning. As the rhum opened up, the fleshier fruits came forward (apricots, ripe red cherries, pears, papayas, rosemary, fennel, attar of roses) and I noted with some surprise the way more traditional herbal and grassy sugar cane sap notes really took a backseat – it didn’t make it a bad rhum in any way, just a different one, somewhat at right angles to what one might have expected.
But I also didn’t get much in the way of wonder, of amazement, of excitement…something that would enthuse me so much that I couldn’t wait to write this and share my discovery. That doesn’t make it a bad rhum at all (as stated, I thought it was damned good on its own merits, and my score reflects that)…on the other hand, it hardly makes you drop the wife off to her favourite sale and rush out to the nearest shop, now, does it?
Okay, I jest a little, but consider the nose on the 46% orange-gold spirit. It displayed that same spicy, musky and almost meaty scent of salt butter and olives and tequila doing some bodacious ragtime, sweat and stale eau-de-vie going off in all directions. It was thick and warm to smell, mellowing out into more fleshy, overripe (almost going bad) mangoes and papayas and pineapples, just not so sweet. Spices, maybe cardamom, and some wet coffee grounds. At the back end, after a while, it was possible to detect the leather and smoke and slight bitter whisper of some wood tannins hinting at some unspecified ageing, but where was the crisp, clear aroma of an agricole? The grasses and herbaceous lightness that so characterizes the style? I honestly couldn’t smell it clearly, could barely sense it – so, points for originality, not so much for recognition (though admittedly, that was just me, and your own mileage may vary;
Still, there was little to find fault with once I actually got around to tasting the medium-going-on-heavy rhum. Once one got past the briny, slightly bitter initial profile, things warmed up, and it got interesting in a hurry. Green olives, peppers, some spice and bite, sure, but there was softer stuff coiling underneath too: peaches, apricots, overripe cherries (on the verge of going bad); salt beef and butter again (the concomitant creaminess was quite appealing), and I dunno, a chutney of some kind, stuffed with dill and sage. Like I said, really interesting – it was quite a unique taste profile. And the finish followed along from there – soft and warm and lasting, with sweet and salt and dusty hay mixing well – I am not reaching when I say it reminded me of the mingled dusty scents of a small cornershop in Guyana, where jars of sweets and medicines and noodles and dried veggies were on open display, and my brother and I would go to buy nibbles and maybe try to sneak into the pool hall next door.
