Rivers Antoine – The Lone Caner

We have looked at rums from Rivers Antoine before, although admittedly that was just the regularly available 69% version, which I’ve tried several times. Now, Rivers Antoine is a very old rum making estate on Grenada — they date back to 1785, were certainly in existence since two decades before that, and have only grudgingly upgraded their facilities in all that time — and is perhaps unique in that they not only grow their own sugar cane with which they press and render to “honey” make their rums, but the press is run by a water wheel (made in 1840), the fermentation is in open vats, the yeast is wild, and the rums they make are like no others. Trust me on this.

Basic production stats: cane juice syrup (some cane is from their own estate, some is bought from surrounding farmers), fermented in open topped concrete tanks which are not cleaned out between batches, so a little bit of previous batches carries forward into the next one. Wild (naturally airborne) yeast, eight days or so fermentation, and then it’s run through one or both of the two double retort pot stills (one Vendome, one John Dore), fed by wood-fueled fires underneath each, and the resultant distillate froths and smokes off the still at around 75-80%. As I’ve said, this is dialled down to 69% for the “standard” version that can be taken on flights, but this one is different, being bottled at 75%, or close to still strength.

What results from all this is a rum of real character: anyone who smells this isn’t going to forget it in a hurry. It’s a pungent, potent, pot still putain, hard bitten and hard boiled as a thirties noir gumshoe, with scents to match. It’s rubbery, ester driven, sour and with as much glue as a glossy new fashion magazine hot off the presses. And as if that isn’t enough, you’ll smell plasticine, varnish, turpentine, and then the sour-sweet scent of kimchi, rotting oranges, ripe mangoes, and if you think this is a Jamaican funk bomb detonating in y9our face, well, it’s pretty close. Rivers never bothers to make a fuss over that, simply letting the product speak for itself…and it sure doesn’t speak in quiet modulated tones, but bellows its puissance from the rooftop.

I know this may sound like over the top insanity to smell, but rest assured that the taste is much more approachable, without ever letting go of its slightly off-kilter vibe.It presents some light fruits and sugar, again the sourness of gooseberries and overripe oranges — the part that distinguishes it from the Jamaicans is a certain agricole-style herbaceousness, a sort of green lemongrass and citrus note that combines well with balsamic vinegar and olives and the faintest suggestion of salt. And the finish…wow. Epic, long lasting, green and fragrant, very fruity with pineapples and spearmint and (yes, still here), grass, miso soup, rubber and plastic notes that fortunately are well tamed by this time. Basically, as my burb states — Rivers starts like a bat out of hell and then slows down to one wing short of batsh*t crazy by the end.

At 75% ABV we should not be surprised at the hot and spicy nature of it, yet it carries the weight of that strength without too much of an assault on the senses – I actually think once you get used to it, it’s something of a (slightly masochistic, admittedly) fun and interesting tasting experience. There’s such a joyous irreverence of competing flavours going on inside, it’s so strong and moves so fast, that one can only wonder how so much was stuffed into a standard barroom bottle without it shattering to shards on the spot.

Sure, most people will mix it – with coconut water, a soda, ice or whatever’s on hand (I think it would shine in a daiquiri), yet I submit that perhaps it’s worth trying by itself, just the one time. Because even though, afterwards, you might not remember everything that happens, you’ll know you had a good time while it lasted.

(#1114)(85/100) ⭐⭐⭐½

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First posted 2nd November 2010 on Liquorature.

My trip to Toronto last October permitted me to taste rums that never would have made it to Calgary (one or two would never have made it anywhere), and since my circle of friends is admittedly small, and few of those travel to rum producing states, it’s not as if I would have gotten any of the last five subjects of my reviews from them either. So kudos and thanks one last time to John, who opened his cabinet to my inquiring snoot, and let’s get to the review of the last rum in this decidedly odd series.

Rivers Royale is from the Spice Island, as is the Clarke’s Court, though River Antoine Estate Distillery is in Saint Andrew’s Parish on the Northeast coast of Grenada, while Clarke’s is from the south…apparently there is healthy competition for bragging rights on the island as to which is stronger (both are white overproofs), or simply better. Because I had the “bush” variation of the Clarke’s (which was, by the way, quite good), and because Antoine’s white lightning has a surpisingly robust flavor profile for an overproof, I’m not going to get in the middle of that particular dispute except to make this observation: Rivers is made the same way as it was way back in 1785 when the place was founded.

On the smaller islands like Grenada, commercial cane production is a thing of the past (partly this is a space issue, partly it’s the economics of world sugar trade), and most distilleries import molasses or raw rum stock from other places with more space available for economical cane cultivation (like Guyana)…except for River Antoine. These local lads don’t muck about. They cultivate their own cane, reap it, process it and make the rum like they always made it, crushing the cane with a press whose motive power is drawn from an old waterwheel, concentrating the juice in open vats (John, who’s been there, noted rather sourly that it’s not impossible for bat guano to be a part of the mix, but I digress) then boiling it down in cast iron pots over an open fire fed by the cane remnants.

After fermentation, the resultant is distilled in an ancient copper pot still (copper supposedly imparts better (and subtler) flavours to the distillate than stainless steel)…the entire process takes abut ten days from cane to finished product.

It’s perhaps the only remaining distillery in the Caribbean that can make the boast of using such old fashioned technology, and it’s quite a tourist draw. What you get if you go to the estate-cum-distillery in person (and at factory prices, apparently) is the local version, bottled straight out of the still, at about 75-80% alcohol (stories vary), which is to say 150-160 degrees proof. I won’t swear to it, but I think John had the real McCoy, not the watered down version sold to western homeys so they can get through customs, and I say that because it was an overproof for sure, complete with the deep burn and raw sting of real moonshine…though I gotta tell you, surprisingly robust flavours came through.

The clear liquor I tasted that night had a medium body, with middling legs in my glass. The claws struck at my nose without hesitation, but after my eyes stopped watering and I rolled my medium rare tongue back off the floor, what I got was a rather welcome waft of…well, schnapps. A slightly floral hint. Salt, brine, olives. As I’ve noted before, I don’t spend too much time trying to taste test an overproof, neat or otherwise, because the spirit burns out anything I might think I’m tasting (or which my imagination conjures up for me as my stomach ties itself up in complex knots and I try to turn myself inside out): on the other hand, I have to say that I don’t know what they did down there in Granada, but if you stick with Rivers Royale, you will taste cherries, fruit, maybe some orange peel. Quite amazing. And as for the finish, well, come on…who’re you kidding? On an overproof? It’s a potent likker with real power behind dem claws, and it sears deeply, and farts acid, but not in a way that makes you scream: it sure ain’ smooth like a more commercial rum, and that’s the best I can do for you.

There’s something about the overall interaction of all elements of this overproof that works for me, though. I liked the hand drawn, unpretentious label. I liked the title itself, that air of old time creole French, and the old-fashioned way it was made. I liked the rum. It’s potent likker, and will singe your throat (and eyebrows if you’re not careful). It’s absolutely an island product and I don’t care what anyone says, for me it’s not really a true commercial export product that will one day show up in Calgary (import, strength and quality regulations probably won’t allow it) – I consider it one of those backwoods bashwars you’ll find as you tour the Caribbean, locally made and locally consumed, unpretentious and not giving a damn, rude and cheerful and unsophisticated, and quite simply, one of the best rums you’ve ever tried…one those rums you’ll be happy you’ve had once you’ve had it and will remember with a smile forever.

(#046) (Unscored)

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