Aug 042026
 

Photo courtesy and copyright to 88Bamboo.com

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.

Photo ©SpiritAcademy.it

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

Dec 222018
 

We don’t much associate the USA with cask strength rums, though of course they do exist, and the country has a long history with the spirit.  These days, even allowing for a swelling wave of rum appreciation here and there, the US rum market seems to be primarily made up of low-end mass-market hooch from massive conglomerates at one end, and micro-distilleries of wildly varying output quality at the other. It’s the micros which interest me, because the US doesn’t do “independent bottlers” as such – they do this, and that makes things interesting, since one never knows what new and amazing juice may be lurking just around the corner, made with whatever bathtub-and-shower-nozzle-held-together-with-duct-tape distillery apparatus they’ve slapped together.

Balcones, a central Texan outfit from Waco named after a fault line running through the southern half of the state, is a bit more than the kind of happy backyard operation my remarks above imply — they are a primarily whiskey distilling operation, started a decade ago, and their website has a great backstory about how it all started in an old welding shop under a bridge in Waco into which, after some refurbishment, they installed copper pot stills from Portugal, and shoehorned a whisky distillery inside. And after a few years, they began to make rum as well, because, well, “We like to drink rum so why not give it a shot?” as Thomas Mote the distillery manager cheerfully remarked to me.

Okay, so let’s see if they succeeded. Consider first the nose.  For all of the 63.9% it’s quite warm and smooth: it started out with a musky scent of damp earth, a sort of mustiness that reminded me a of a warehouse chock-a-block full of old cardboard boxes, brine, salt and sweet olives.  Then it became somewhat more bourbon-like – raisins, molasses, fleshy fruits starting to go off, then caramel, nuts, butter, vanilla and ice cream. It smells curiously indeterminate – which is why detailed fruity notes can’t be listed – you know there’s a lot of stuff here, but it’s tough to come to grips with them individually.

On the palate, after exercising all the usual precautions for a rum this strong (take a rather small sip until things settle down, because the taste is sharper than the nose leads one to believe and remember, it’s a 63.9% saloon brawler that does its very best to clean the bar counter and rip your face off at the same time), I sensed a salt-rye-fruit-bourbon soupcon of flavours on the palate: a combo of salt, sweet and sour — vegetable soup, sour cream, maggi cubes and deep caramel and vanilla notes, all at once, circling each other for dominance and advantage. The fruits – papayas, very ripe peaches in syrup – were set off by muscovado sugar and light molasses without much citrus lending a sharper note (though there was some) and to which was added hazelnuts, some sweet olives and brine, dark chocolate, cherries, fading out quietly (and lengthily) to a pleasant, warm, aromatic conclusion redolent of cherries, flambeed bananas and molasses, but nothing significantly different from the tastes that had preceded it.

Balcones was swiftly and remarkably forthcoming to all the usual inquiries, noting that it was 100% pot still and used a blend of Barbados-Style Lite Molasses and Blackstrap from Louisiana and Guatemala respectively, fermented for 4-5 weeks (much longer than anything else they make), and they play around a bit with yeast and an undisclosed dunder process to add to the flavour profile. Ageing is between 2-4 years and the rum is made in annual batches of a few thousand bottles at most, and no additives of any kind (“oak and time!” they told me proudly).

Still, taking apart those tasting notes, a number of things jump out. The caramel and vanilla and molasses notes are not precisely domineering, but very much in evidence, to the point of taking over — there’s a sort of dampening effect of the musky and more solid flavours which prevent sharper, crisper, clearer ones (fruits and citrus and florals) from emerging properly and engaging. The range of tastes on show lacked the complexities one expects of even a lightly aged rum, and yes, it actually has a profile reminiscent of a rye or bourbon, maybe a tad richer and sweeter and more congener-rich….more rum-like, if you will. It’s a pretty nifty drink for that strength.  It reminds me of my first encounter with Potter’s Dark, yet it also presents as simpler than it could have been, which makes me ask myself, as I always do with such a profile and which seems to be somewhat of a characteristic of many of the US rums I’ve tried, what is it they really want to be making and was too much whisky lore infusing the rum?

I’ve remarked before that most new and smaller US distilleries seem to be more interested in making whiskies and produce rums as something of an afterthought. Whether not not that’s the case here, Balcones has evidently given the matter quite a bit more thought than usual, and come up with a product that deserves real attention (the business with the yeast and dunder points there). It’s unquestionably a rum; it’s got real fire in its jock; it’s rum-like enough to please, while also original enough to encourage a double-take, and an all-round powerhouse fun rum. I think I’m going to keep an eye on these guys going forward – there’s some interesting stuff going on in Waco, and I hope that they expend their production to a larger stable, aged more, in the years to come.  Certainly their initial full proof rums give us a lot of reason to appreciate what they’ve done so far.

(#581)(81/100)


Other notes

The Special Release is issued annually since 2013 (twice in 2014), but identifying the year is difficult.  To the best of my knowledge, mine is from the 2016 season.