Cape Verde rum, get to the bottom of the bottle

Why does a Cape Verde rum develop this aromatic profile? Let’s go from the bottle to the cane to find out.

 

In your quest for knowledge, you want to learn more about the rums produced on the Atlantic islands. Your recent stopover in Madeira has only heightened this desire.

With this in mind, you set off down the road to your personal Ali Baba’s cave: your specialist cane brandy cellar.

Busy putting away the morning’s deliveries, he pauses as you enter and listens to you explain what you have in mind.

He says he has exactly what you’re looking for: rums produced in the traditional way on an archipelago off the coast of Senegal. He prefers not to tell you too much, so as to keep it a surprise and not influence you when you discover this beverage.

You cheerfully accept this “challenge” and – after a few tastings of other origins, guided by the master of the house – return home with a new bottle of white rum in your hand.

 

When you get home, you look at your bottle and see the words “rhum” and “grogue” side by side, as well as its origin: Cape Verde.

 

You know absolutely nothing about this origin, which makes you even more curious.

You’re also intrigued by the word “grogue“, which evokes a drink in which rum, honey and lemon are added to hot water. The connection seems somewhat remote.

Without further ado, you open the bottle and pour two centilitres into your tasting glass.

The fragrance wafting from the glass is intense and leaves little doubt as to the raw material used: fresh cane juice.

 

The cane expresses itself unabashedly, full, ripe, herbaceous and organic; it makes you want more. Exotic fruits, heady flowers, spices (including licorice – is that even a spice? You’ve got two hours) and a hint of copper are perceptible, but only present to support the cane.

 

You’re under the spell of this wild, expressive rum. If it weren’t for the nature of the raw material, you wouldn’t venture to guess the stages of production, even if its very straightforward nature evokes traditional methods.

Your instincts are right: few cane eaux-de-vie are produced more artisanally than grogue.

The cane grows on several of Cape Verde‘s islands. They are grown naturally, with no inputs(fertilizers or pesticides). As in Madeira, whose terrain is also steep, harvesting is done by hand.

The cane is then transported to the trapiche (the name given to the place where production takes place, starting with the press). Once the juice has been extracted (without the addition of water), it is stored in vats so that fermentation can begin.

 

Once again, nothing is added, not even yeast (and even less acidifying agents). Fermentation takes place in the wild, with ambient yeasts (and bacteria) doing the work of transforming sugar into alcohol and creating aromas.

 

 

It will take at least a good week (and often up to two) for the operation to be completed.

Not surprisingly, the next step is just as traditional, and has probably not changed much since the early ^16th century (when the first traces of distillation were found in the archipelago).

No columns here, but small iron stills, heated directly over a flame.

The still is placed in a terracotta cavity on a bed of bagasse (leftover sugarcane once the juice has been extracted), which is used as fuel.

It takes one and a half passes before the distillate is ready. In fact, once the first pass has been completed, the “brouillis” is distilled a second time, not without adding a portion of cane wine (fermented cane juice).

The condensing system is also relatively archaic, consisting of a simple pipe several meters long, embedded in a larger pipe through which cooling water flows.

 

The result is a pouring rum of around 45%, which is consumed as is in Cape Verde, where most of the production is sold. It’s the archipelago’s national drink.

 

 

 

Although production is regulated, following the implementation of a 2015 law, adulterated grogues can still be found in the region. Fortunately for us, these don’t reach our shores.

On the other hand, in recent years we’ve seen a number of brands arrive on wine shop shelves. Although there are still very few of them, these grogues originating from different trapiches (or even different islands) allow us to imagine the aromatic variety that exists within these ancestral cane brandies.

When you consider that there are several hundred producers on Santo Antão alone, you can’t help but get a taste for cane juice. The island is also renowned for making the best grogue.

LAging toddy remains a very marginal practice, although barrels have been imported for this purpose.

 

 

Back in the days of Portuguese colonization, you could find casks of port wine, but now it’s just a few barrels of various types that have been brought to Cape Verde by French producers and distributors.

You may not yet know all there is to know about Cape Verde grogues, but you know enough to understand and appreciate what’s in your glass.

And if you get the chance to taste the punch mel, don’t hesitate! This blend of white grogue and cane sugar syrup (the equivalent of West Indian battery syrup) is a must. You may well have to travel to Cape Verde to discover this drink, but I know there’s no stopping you.

 

Saint Lucia rum, get to the bottom of the bottle

Why does a rum from Saint Lucia develop this aromatic profile? Let’s go from the bottle to the cane to find out.

 

For you – and for many others – the Caribbean, in all its diversity, is at the center of the world’s rum production.

Martinique, Barbados, Guadeloupe and Trinidad – these are all origins you’ve already studied, and although you haven’t mastered them, you know the basics of the cane distillates that originate there.

Another island in the region catches your eye, just south of the Isle of Flowers: Saint Lucia.

Wouldn’t this be a good excuse to pay a visit to your wine specialist? You think so (oh surprise!).

The route – which you know by heart – is quickly dispatched and here you are among the shelves covered with bottles of rum. You just love this place!

You don’t beat about the bush: “Dear wine merchant, do you have any rums from Saint Lucia?

 

To answer this rhetorical question, he guides you to one of the shelves and (in the absence of rum) showers you with words like: unique distillery, variety of stills, English tradition, range of brands, diversity of styles…

 

As you leave your favorite shop, you almost think that the two bottles in your bundle might not be enough to show you the aromatic range of rums from Saint Lucia.

As soon as you return home, two tasting glasses appear almost miraculously on your table, filled with the contents of your new acquisitions.

One of them is fragrant, just as your wine merchant had explained earlier. You begin your tasting with the other (and temporarily remove the second).

 

Balanced and quite expressive, it greets you with aromas of dried fruit, spices, tobacco, chocolate and vanilla. The whole is resolutely greedy (and not without a hint of freshness) but seems dry, which is confirmed on the palate. The finish is even slightly drying, and the walnut shows the tip of its kernel.

 

Relatively complex, it takes you out of your comfort zone without really pushing you. You’ll go so far as to think that there’s more behind this profile than a single, well-executed aging process, while leaning towards molasses as far as the raw material is concerned.

A fine analysis indeed.

The uniqueness of Saint Lucia Distillers (the name given to the island’s only distillery) lies in the variety of styles that can be produced (rather like Guyana).

While molasses (from Panama, Brazil and Mexico, for example, and imported to the island) is used for the most part, the distillery has a few cane fields around their facilities, enabling them to process fresh cane juice. This juice can then be added to certain blends.

Fermentation, which generally lasts a full day and a half, is carried out using different types of yeast (three different strains), depending on the desired result.

What’s more, this transformation of sugars into alcohol (and the creation of aromas) takes place partly in… concrete vats. Where most producers use stainless steel or even wooden vats, this is a “detail” that can have its importance.

 

Now for the big part: the four distillation units. Their varied natures enable the creation of very different distillates.

 

Most of the production is handled by a double column. Its role is clearly to produce volume. A bit like Central American rums, the distillate that comes out of it can reach 95% alcohol, which means it won’t have much taste (except for that of ethanol). As you know, this means a lot of wood and barrel aromas during maturation.

Three discontinuous distillation stills make up the rest of the fleet.

A Vendôme (previously owned by Trinidad Distillers Limited) will run a juice with dark accents of licorice, leather, spices, brown sugar and empyreumatic, ashy notes. This is the least productive.

The rest of the trio is made up of two John Dore stills, originally called… John Dore 1 and John Dore 2. The latter has more than ten times the capacity of the former. It is on the latter that the pure juice is distilled.

Both, in different registers, bring a great deal of aromatic intensity, including fruit galore. If blending is to take place, it will be necessary to be sparing in incorporating the distillate from these two, otherwise the other components will be overwhelmed.

 

There’s still one stage during which the aromatic profile will be influenced: ageing. Here again, Saint Lucia Distillers has plenty to choose from, since the distillery uses five types of cask: ex-bourbon (mostly), ex-porto, ex-red wine, ex-white wine and ex-brandy (wine brandy).

 

 

Add to this the fact that their cellars house around 10,000 barrels, and it’s easy to see that SLD has plenty to experiment with and plenty to enjoy.

To sum up: 2 raw materials, 3 yeasts, 4 stills and 5 types of barrel. The possibilities are already impressive, but add the usual choices of fermentation time or ageing duration and the field of possibilities expands even further. And now, think blending!

For it is the know-how and potential of blending that makes Saint Lucia rums so rich. It’s thanks to blending that St. Lucia Distillers has been able to create such diverse brands as Chairman’s Reserve, Admiral Rodney and Santa Lucia 1931.

You now move on to the second rum, which has had time to air out, which is far from calming its intensity.

Exotic fruits, cocoa, a burnt facet, vanilla, a touch of glue and a quarter of green olive form an explosive blend. In the mouth, it reveals its power and concentration, leaving a lasting impression on the palate.

 

Since you paid close attention when you read the beginning of this article, you’ll understand that this is a rum where the column distillate does not enter the blend. The result is a distinctive spirit that won’t appeal to everyone, but will be snapped up by some connoisseurs.

References such as this will not be found in the classic brand range, but in special editions in partnership with wine merchants, distributors or bottlers.

Now that you know (or almost know) all about rums produced in Saint Lucia, it’s up to you to form your own palate and preferences.

 

Rum from Haïti, get to the bottom of the bottle

Why does a rum from Haiti develop this aromatic profile? Let’s go from the bottle to the cane to find out.

“Bonjour monsieur le caviste.

– Ah, good morning dear amateur in search of knowledge. To what do I owe your visit today, after yesterday and the day before, and… the day before that?

– Well, I’ve heard about one of the origins of rum that I know nothing about.

– What about it? Which one is it?

– Haïti.

– Ah, that’s an interesting provenance. But to understand it, you’ll have to taste two very different products.

– Be that as it may, I’ll stop at nothing!

These are more or less the few words exchanged with the wine merchant, before you leave with two bottles in your wallet, or your stroller, why not.

As your advisor hasn’t told you much, you’re very curious about these two new acquisitions: a “white rum” and an aged rum. The only indication: “Finish with the white”. Instinctively, you would have done the opposite, but okay.

You follow the guide, and pour a few centilitres of the rum, which proudly displays an age statement on its label: 8 years.

 

The profile that rises to your nostrils reminds you of others, and you immediately think this is a molasses rum, where the cask is responsible for most of the aroma.

 

These include vanilla, nuts, wood and a touch of roast. Pleasant in its simplicity, it also gives off a relatively dry impression. On the palate, it reveals itself to be softer than expected, with a strong aromatic presence of caramel, before regaining its straightforwardness on the finish, during which a hint of citrus comes to the fore.

Blindly, you would have placed it somewhere in Latin America or perhaps Cuba.

But it’s not. In fact, this rum has one major difference: its raw material! Yes, it’s made from cane juice and/or syrup (cooked cane juice that has lost a lot of moisture and become concentrated). That’s a barrelful.

So how do you explain this huge disparity with the agricols rums you know? To do so, we’ll have to take another look at the production stages.

One thing’s for sure – and you’re right – the juice used for ageing must not have been an aromatic bomb. That’s why the barrel was able to leave such a deep mark on the liquid.

Short fermentation, column distillation and a high percentage of alcohol in the mash: these are the reasons behind the lightness of the distillate. The barrel – in this case made of French oak – is left with an (almost) blank canvas on which to draw the rum’s silhouette as it sees fit.

 

By the way, there’s only one historic rum distillery in Haiti, so I’ll leave it to you to find out which one it is. No, it’s not that complicated, and there’s absolutely nothing to gain.

Now it’s time to taste your second bottle. The white eau-de-vie your cellarman advised you to save for last.

As soon as the cork is removed, you understand why. The highly expressive liquid is literally trying to get out of the bottle and into your nostrils. Pouring it into the glass, you give it a few minutes before approaching your nose.

This only confirms your first impression: the cane juice is conquering, both vegetal and organic, almost animal. The fruit is very, very ripe, with a hint of truffle. A rich, intense rum. Except it’s not (though). In fact, you’ve just experienced clairin.

This “ancestor” of rum is made by traditional methods. No phase of the process has changed for decades, if not centuries. There are a few exceptions, where modern distillation columns are used, but most of the country’s (almost 500) producers have made no changes to their ancestral methods.

 

The main reason is to be found in the fermentation process and, above all, in the alembic still used and its settings – in other words, the famous marks.

 

Honestly, in the world of rum, there are few things more complicated than the typologies of Guyana rums. Don’t expect me to explain it all to you – I’m not planning to write a twelve-volume book on the subject. But here are a few points to keep in mind.

First of all, in English Guiana, rums are produced in the Demerara region, which runs alongside the river of the same name. In other words, the two terms are almost synonymous when it comes to rum.

By 1780, there were over 300 distilleries in the area. Ah well! Over the years, most closed and/or were absorbed by others. By the middle of the 20th century, there were just eight, and today, only one still exists: Diamond.

Of course, all the others have disappeared, but some distilling equipment has been repatriated to Diamond, owned by Demerara Distillers Limited (DDL). This means, for example, that Enmore rums are still produced, even though the distillery of the same name closed in 1994.

 

It’s as if every step is taken to accentuate the aromas.

 

 

 

Sugar cane is grown “the old-fashioned way”, without any synthetic inputs (no, manure doesn’t count), in polyculture, mechanically cut, then transported by ox or donkey.

They are then pressed without the addition of water (also known as imbibition), and the juice is transferred to these fermentation “vats”, usually wooden barrels. There are a great many varieties of cane in Haiti, some endemic to specific regions.

Fermentation is spontaneous (no yeast is added) and lasts at least five days. The cane wine is then distilled on a still, traditionally heated over an open fire. No filtration or alcoholic reduction before bottling.

 

The result is a cane brandy with an alcoholic percentage generally between 50% and 55%, which has never had water added to it during the production process. A true concentrate of spirits.

 

Depending on the varieties of cane used, the year’s climatic conditions, variations during fermentation (during which no controls, such as thermoregulation of the vats, are in place) and the hazards of direct-flame distillation, the resulting clairin can be markedly different from one year to the next.

This “vintage” effect makes for a fascinating exploration of this ancestral rum.

What’s true for the production of a single distillery is even more true between different distilleries.

A little aside: note that the term “vintage” is normally reserved for aged rums, especially in the context of geographical indications and other appellations of origin. For white rums, the term “harvest year” is more appropriate.

You’re now equipped with the knowledge you need to appreciate and understand the rums produced on Haitian soil, where a wide variety of cane distillates are produced. But there’s still plenty to taste before you’ve mastered this two-faced origin.

Rum from Trinidad and Tobago, get to the bottom of the bottle

 

Why does a rum from Trinidad & Tobago develop this aromatic profile? Let’s go from the bottle to the cane to find out.

You continue your peregrinations on the rum trail, always in search of knowledge and understanding. It’s not always easy to see clearly in this universe, but fortunately you have your personal adviser (well, he looks after a few other people too): your specialist wine merchant.

And today, you’ve got an idea in mind: to find out more about traditional English rums, with Trinidad and Tobago as your next stop. This choice seems to please your dealer in good things, who is instantly enthusiastic and explains that it’s very difficult to find a rum of this origin that would show all its facets.

He tells you about official bottlings, raw casks, independent bottlers and a defunct distillery.

At the end of all this gibberish, he recommends a bottle, adding that he could have sold you five and that it would still have been complicated to find common points between them all.

Now you’re well on your way…

So, once you’ve returned home and completed your preparatory ritual, you’re ready to discover this new eau-de-vie de canne.

You immediately recognize its dual nature. The fruit, which comes in a variety of forms (dried, exotic and even blackcurrant-like berries), is softened by vanilla, while a second, darker thread lurks in the background.

 

It’s often this second face that makes a Trinidad rum so distinctive: roasted, burnt, smoky and even tarry notes.

 

Your growing experience points you in the direction of molasses as a raw material – nothing here suggests cane juice. Good, you’re learning. There’s a relative heaviness, a thickness to this rum that reminds you of other British-style rums; it is, however, endowed with an undeniable identity of its own.

It also seems to you that the casks used must be very heavily toasted, which would explain (at least in part) the roasted, even burnt aromas. Once again, more than likely, well done!

Fermentation and distillation, on the other hand, are less straightforward, and you come up with a combination of a column and an iron still. This time you get it wrong, but to be honest, it wasn’t easy. Let’s see what it’s all about.

There is only one distillery in Trinidad: Trinidad Distillers Limited (TDL). Until the early 2000s, there was a second distillery, which has since closed – more on that later.

TDL has two distillation units, one single column and one multiple column. Traditionally, the large single column is used to produce a relatively heavy distillate, while the quintuple column is used to run lighter rums (meaning higher in alcohol and less concentrated in aroma).

A large proportion of rums are produced by blending these two distillates (so you’re not entirely wrong).

 

Like many enthusiasts, you have the idea that rums distilled on a column still are necessarily less expressive than those distilled on an iron still. This is not the case.

The counter-example that jumps out at the neurons (and nostrils) is that of the Creole column used in the French West Indies, whose product is highly aromatic (otherwise, what would be the point of ti-punch?!).

But column distillation doesn’t necessarily mean vodka-like, insipid rum. The degree of pouring need not exceed 90% (for example, the AOC Martinique limits it to 75%).

It is also possible to “spike” at an intermediate level of the column to recover a distillate with a lower alcohol percentage and higher aromatic concentration.

 

Distillation is the crucial stage in shaping the aromatic profile of Trinidad rums.

 

Fermentation is also an important part of the process. Relatively short, lasting no more than 48 hours in most cases (in exceptional cases, up to 72 hours for certain rums), it is carried out using different strains of yeast, depending on the desired result.

But all this doesn’t explain that bituminous facet that titillated your nostrils. To try and explain it, I have to talk about the second distillery present on the island until the beginning of the 21st century.

The name alone is enough to give goose bumps to enlightened amateurs, collectors and (unfortunately) speculators alike. Caroni.

I won’t bore you with its history (about which you can find plenty of sources online). Just know that Caroni rums are characterized by aromas of hydrocarbons, rubber and tar.

Fortunately, these are regularly combined with exotic fruits and vanilla.

 

It’s impossible to know for sure the origin of this unique profile, although several theories exist (failed distillation, the presence of tires in the cellars, the existence of a natural tar deposit on the island which could have transmitted its taste to the water used to produce the rum…).

 

But how did these aromas reach a large proportion of the rums from the other distillery: Trinidad Distillers Limited? If the theory about the natural presence of asphalt is correct, then the same reason could have influenced these rums as much as the Caroni.

Personally, I’m leaning more towards another explanation. TDL would have recovered and stored Caroni barrels (or vats) and used it as a bonnifier (flavor enhancer) in their production.

Perhaps this secret is known to a few people, who will spill the (rubber) beans in time, but until then, the mystery remains.

So, after this tasting and a few explanations, you’ll be better equipped to understand and appreciate Trinidad rums.

However, you’ll need to taste many more to fully appreciate this style, if that’s even possible. So arm yourself with patience and your tasting glass.

 

White rum from Southeast Asia, get to the bottom of the bottle

Why does a white rum from Southeast Asia develop this aromatic profile? Let’s go from the bottle to the cane to find out.

As you browse the shelves of your favorite specialty store, you come across a bottle of white rum with an illustration on the label that reminds you of Asia.Curious, and armed with your wine merchant’s sound advice, you leave with a bottle under your arm.

It’s a rum produced in Southeast Asia: Thailand, Vietnam and Laos all produce cane distillates.

Impatient to discover what it has to offer, you open the bottle, pour a few centiliters into your tasting glass (yes, white rum can be tasted too).

You’ll be surprised to discover fresh, herbal, floral and fruity notes. Very expressive, it’s not without roundness, almost mellowness.

From your meagre experience, you tell yourself that it resembles the white rums from Guadeloupe and Martinique to which you are more accustomed, with a little something extra, a slightly marine or metallic note perhaps?

We’re geographically far from the French West Indies, so how is this relationship possible?

 

 

Puzzled, you decide to pour a few centilitres of this “white” rum into another glass, to check your first impression. Same thing.

Trust our nose! It’s not your nose that’s deceiving you, it’s your eyes. One of the distinctive features of Cuban rum is that all its expressions are aged, and some are whitened. Yes, yes, you read that right.

In this case, the aged rum – which has taken on a few colors – is filtered over activated charcoal to remove any coloration. Also, since Cuban rum is legally at least 2 years old (we’ll come back to this), your white rum will have aromas that originate from the barrel, with vanilla and caramel topping the list.

To recap: the rum is aged, then blanched, so it retains the aromas of aging, but will be translucent.

First and foremost, the most obvious common denominator, which literally jumps out at you: it’s translucent. This is simply because it has not been aged. So, there’s no impact of the wood, since the liquid hasn’t been in contact with a barrel. It’s the raw material that fully expresses itself.

And, as you know, the vast majority of rums produced are made from molasses. But here, the aromas are too vegetal and fresh; they don’t stick.

Your nostrils have not deceived you: it is indeed the scent of sugarcane juice that this rum exhales.

Southeast Asia is a huge producer of sugar cane, led by Thailand, so it was only natural that rum made from the fermentation of cane juice should be produced there.

 

 

 

But a crucial step was still missing: the contribution of knowledge and know-how. In most cases, it was local Frenchmen who embarked on the adventure.

All the ingredients were in place for the production of top-quality white rums. You’ll most often find these Southeast Asian rums white. This is due to several factors:

• Unlike a good proportion of unaged molasses rums (don’t throw stones at me, I didn’t say “all”), pure cane juice white rums already offer a pleasant profile that stands on its own.
• Most rum distilleries in Southeast Asia are relatively young. Aging a spirit takes time and represents a major investment, which is not always compatible with a fledgling distillery.
• Thai law makes it extremely complicated to age spirits in Thailand. It is just as difficult to bottle rum above 40%.

That’s why they’re related to the white rums of the French West Indies, but they’re far from carbon copies. These differences, which you may have sensed on the nose and in the mouth, can be traced back to several stages in the distillate’s production.

First explanation: the varieties of cane are not the same (you might have thought). White rums made from pure cane juice are, so to speak, the only ones where you can taste the particularities of the sugar cane itself.

.

 

Terroir in rum is probably only to be found in the category of pure cane juice white rums.

 

 

In the same way, these rums are also unique in that they let the terroir express itself. Soil, climate and the hand of man (with a push-button) are all factors that leave their mark on the final product: white rum.

This is less the case when ageing is involved, and even less so when we’re talking about molasses rums, which are already a processed product and often come from regions of the world other than that of the producing country.

The second explanation lies in the way in which the juices are distilled. Whereas in Martinique, for example, cane wine (fermented cane juice) has to be distilled on a Creole column, small-scale producers in South-East Asia have chosen to use small stills, often dictated by economic constraints.

Not only are these units less costly and able to work with limited quantities of raw material, they also allow for more precise and easily modifiable settings.

However, distilling on a column or an iron still (or even a hybrid still, where a small rectification column is integrated) will obviously have a significant impact on the distillate.

This is where the marine and sometimes coppery notes come from, in addition to the pronounced sugarcane aromas.

Now you know what you’re getting in your bottle, and why this rum has such a distinctive identity.

 Rhum vieux AOC Martinique, get to the bottom of the bottle

 

Why does an AOC Martinique aged rum develop this aromatic profile? Let’s go from the bottle to the cane to find out.

It’s time to pay a visit to your favourite shop. There’s a whole section of shelves that you’ve never looked at before, with bottles with well-known names, especially if you like planter punches or ti-punches. But then you realise that there are also a huge number of aged rums.

Your wine merchant, not stingy with information and good advice, encourages you to leave with what he calls a VSOP, a term you thought was reserved for cognac (you know a lot about that!). He also talks about AOCs, rhum agricole, specifications, rhum vieux, regulations and the best rum in the world (yes, his opinion may be a little biased).

In short, he provides you with a wealth of information, rather than rum. You take his advice, and a bottle of AOC Martinique VSOP rum joins your cupboard of liquid wonders.

Patience not being your strong point, your newly acquired bottle has its cork popped that very evening. You don’t remember everything your rum expert told you, but you’ve kept in mind that your new rum qualifies as rhum agricole and is therefore made from the fermentation of freshly pressed cane juice (when I tell you that you already know a lot).


And yet, when you put your nose over your tasting glass, just filled with 2 or 3 cl, you don’t detect those fresh cane aromas you were expecting.

 

It is characterised by spices, wood, orange zest, dried fruit, roasted aromas and a hint of pastry.

 

Ageing for a minimum of 4 years (which is what VSOP indicates) has profoundly altered the organoleptic profile of this rum. However, it also stands out from other aged rums you may have come across on your rum-tasting journey, and has its own distinctive identity.

Several factors explain this taste signature.

Of course, as you will have noticed, ageing (the time spent in contact with the wood in the cask) plays a major role in the aromas that emerge, but it’s not the only one. The distillate also has its say – and when it comes to pure cane juice rum, it has a lot to say, especially within the Martinique AOC.

Careful, I’m going to add a little technique to your glass of rum.

Like all Appellations d’Origine Contrôlée, this one is based on the notion of terroir. To put it simply, it’s all about the recognised know-how that goes into every stage of production in a specific geographical area.

 

The main aim of the AOC Martinique, which was adopted in 1996, was to protect rums produced on the island from counterfeiting.

 

Of course, this is an important point for the consumer, who is assured of the quality of products bearing this indication, but what is just as important is the AOC specifications.

Producers of AOC Martinique rums must follow a number of rules to the letter throughout the production of this precious liquid.

I’m not going to list them all here, otherwise you’ll end up with an indigestible little book rather than a short, easy-to-read article. For the more curious (and courageous), I suggest you take a look at the decree of 29 December 2020, which is full of information to quench your thirst for knowledge.

Among the criteria set out in the specifications are :

• the varieties of cane,
• the geographical areas,
• the period during which the cane is harvested,
• the range of fermentation times,
• the distillation apparatus (column créole),
• the percentage by volume for pouring,
• the minimum resting time for white rum,
• the type of wood (oak) used for ageing,
• the fact that these rums must have an organoleptic profile specific to AOC rums and their non-edulcorability.

 

The strictest set of rules in the world of rum, each of which has an impact on the aromas and flavours of your rum.

 

This will be reflected in the unaged cane brandy by fruity, vegetal and floral notes, while developing aromatic power and finesse. But when the rum is aged (in 650-litre oak casks), it will gradually change, both visually and organoleptically – it’s not every day you come face to face with a seven-syllable word.

A Martinique AOC aged rum must spend at least three years in cask, four years for a VSOP and six years for an XO. However, they may be older; the ages described are minimum ages.

Its colour will become increasingly intense over the years, ranging from honey to dark mahogany. In principle, the colour of a spirit comes from contact with wood. I say “in principle” because many producers use caramel colouring to make their products more uniform, or even to change the colour altogether, which is forbidden under the AOC.

 

The aromas change completely, becoming more complex and longer on the palate.

 

The specifications describe them as follows: woody, fruity (figs, dates, prunes), spicy (vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg) and empyreumatic (roasted, coffee, toasted, cocoa).

The choice of cask will play a major role (as will the time spent in it). French oak will not have the same effect as American oak; the influence of a new cask will be felt differently from that of a used cask; the previous contents may have a major impact on the newly tapped rum.

These are all choices that the distillery and the cellar master will have to make depending on the desired result.

 

So your nose wasn’t deceiving you: you’re a long way from a white rum made from pure cane juice. However, you can be sure that the identity of the distillate does have a role to play in the profile of the old rum, even if it is the ageing conditions that will determine the essential aromatic structure of your AOC Martinique old rum.

Barbados rum, get to the bottom of the bottle

 

Why does a rum from Barbados develop this aromatic profile? Let’s go from the bottle to the cane to find out.

As you’ve been reading (the blog of the man with the pushchair, for example) and listening to podcasts about rum (did you say Single Cast?), you’ve heard on several occasions that Barbados is the birthplace of rum. That’s reason enough for you to take an interest in the cane brandy that originated on this small coral island in the Caribbean.


So you head off to your specialist wine merchant to find out more, and to buy a bottle so you can try it out for yourself.

The choice is not dizzying, and in any case the owner of the shop explains that the typical characteristics of Barbados rums are shared by most of the references available in his humble shop.


So you leave with a bottle that the cellarman describes as “very representative of what we mean by a Barbados rum profile“.

As soon as the door to your flat closes behind you, the ritual begins. You get yourself a tasting glass, open your brand new conquest and pour a few centilitres (yes, into the glass, otherwise it’s a bit silly).

 

As soon as you put your nose to the glass, you get a double impression: a rum that is both sweet and dry.

 

Your nostrils and your brain help you identify aromas of toasted coconut, vanilla, a little tobacco, a roasted note and nuts. You’re getting really good at this!


In any case, you like it, it manages to exude deliciousness without seeming nauseating. Not overly expressive, you find it balanced.

On the palate, it’s exactly that: dry oak, coconut, vanilla and perhaps a hint of orange zest. The slightly drying finish continues in the same vein, with tobacco coming back strongly to support the woodiness, coconut and cocoa.

A very homogeneous tasting, with no false notes, confirming your first impression: a rum that is both dry and delicious.

Your growing experience tells you that much of the flavour of this Barbados rum comes from ageing in ex-bourbon casks.

You’re definitely getting good at this. You’re right, the American oak cask traditionally transmits aromas of coconut and vanilla (among others).

But there’s something else about it that you can’t quite put your finger on – more body, perhaps.

You’ve got something!

Unlike other rums – many from Latin America, for example – the traditional distillate of a rum from Barbados is not close to aromatic neutrality. In fact, the island’s three main distilleries (Mount Gay, WIRD and Foursquare) have several types of distilling apparatus.

 

White rum is traditionally a blend of pot still and column distilled rums.

 

Although the majority of the distillate comes from continuous distillation (column distillation), the blend will still have more character thanks to the discontinuous distillate (still distillation).

So, during ageing, the wood has enough room to express itself, but the distillate will have enough character not to be completely erased.t

Fermentation is fairly short, lasting no more than 48 hours, and does not play a major role (but remember that it always has its say, however discreetly).

Now that you know the profile of Barbados rum and understand how it is made, I must look to the future and tell you a little about it.

In fact, the distilleries mentioned above have begun to experiment with all sorts of things. Let me introduce you to three of them.

West Indies Rum Distillery (WIRD) has a number of different stills at its disposal: multiple column, John Dore post still, Blair column, Greg Farm pot still, Vulcan chamber still and the recently refurbished Rockley Still.

Each of them is capable of distilling very different distillates. The playground is limitless if you combine the distillation options with the fermentation possibilities, which can range from 24 hours to much longer for rums with a high ester content. And experimentation is well under way.

At Mount Gay, we’re having fun departing from the ancestral method by playing around with fermentation times, going from an average of 36 hours to ten days, while using other yeasts. The result is a rum that is far more expressive – some would say less balanced – than the island’s emblematic juices.

Barbados’ oldest distillery (a written record has been found dating back to 1703) is still in the early stages of this work.

For some years now, Foursquare has not been content to age its rum in ex-bourbon American oak barrels. The young distillery (founded in 1996) has ex-Madeira wine, cognac, port and sherry casks in its cellars.

Many of the rums bearing the Foursquare label are blends of distillates matured in different types of casks.

 

 

What if I told you now that several distilleries in Barbados are starting to distil sugarcane juice?

 

Yes, tests are under way at several of the island’s producers, but this is only the beginning. So let’s be curious about what the future holds.

So now you have a clearer picture of the rums of Barbados, their production methods and their typical taste profile. But you also know that rules are made to be broken, so the traditional framework for reading about these rums is going to become far too narrow in the years to come.