Better with Age
Say hello to luscious, smooth, alluring sipping rums
Given the crushing dominance of vodka in bars around this town, it’s easy to forget about rum. And no wonder. All summer it’s dumped into the blender with sugar, tropical juices, and ice until its flavor all but disappears. But rum’s time playing second fiddle to its James Bond–backed cocktail competitor may be coming to an end, and here’s why: It can age beautifully. Unlike vodka—that one-dimensional nemesis that actually aims to be tasteless—rum has character. It gets better and better as it sits, all the while being ignored by the cosmo klatch.
Intrigued? You should be. These rums are not the clear spirits you pour into mojitos and daiquiris. They’re not clear at all—they’re dark, ranging from golden amber to caramel-coffee. They’re not mixed, either (or at least they shouldn’t be), because they’re too delicious to dilute. That’s right, I’m talking sipping rums, which are turning up in the after-dinner snifters of people who typically wouldn’t drink a nightcap more daring than a Baileys or a Tia Maria.
It all makes perfect sense. If you think about how other booze—single-malt scotch, small-batch bourbon, super-premium vodka—has been marketed to urban sophisticates, it follows that premium aged rum would get its turn. And great rums have amazing depth, with layers of fruit (think dried figs, dates, plums) plus a touch of vanilla and toast (from being aged in used bourbon barrels made of American white oak). Most interesting, they’re not too hot (most are 80 proof) or too sweet.
But why now? Probably because it’s taken rum a while to shake off its image as a ubiquitous umbrella-drink base, a reputation that began here in New England back in the 17th century. Later on, rum surpassed all other exports from New England. Yes, I said exports, meaning we made rum and sold it abroad.
You see, after Columbus brought sugar cane to the Caribbean on his second rape-and-pillage—I mean “discovery”—mission, people all over the Western Hemisphere began making rum, according to Dale DeGroff in The Craft of the Cocktail, including our ever-industrious forefathers, who used molasses left over from sugar production. To keep up with demand, New England distillers bought up the cheapest molasses possible from French and Portuguese traders in the Caribbean.
This, of course, made our British masters’ stiff upper lips curl into frowns, as His Majesty’s rum distillers didn’t care much for competition from we miscreant colonists. What to do? Tax the bastards! First came the Molasses Act of 1733, followed by the Sugar Act in 1764, and, finally, the Stamp Act in 1765, which taxed just about everything. All of which led to the Revolutionary War. It could be said that our break with Great Britain had more to do with rum than tea.
We won our freedom, but war debt warranted a federal excise tax on rum in 1791. Then, about two decades later, came the final blow: During the War of 1812 the Brits blockaded our coastline, choking off the molasses supply and in turn wiping out our production. Domestic rum from New England was no more.
Today, rum is made mostly in the Caribbean, though it’s also a favorite in Central America and elsewhere. It comes to our shores in three basic types: At the entry level is light rum, sometimes called “white” or “silver,” which is the type most of us know best and is used in tropical cocktails. Medium rums, sometimes called “gold” or “amber,” are a little more complex—but not much. Heavy rums encompass blended and dark rums. But what you want are the heaviest of the heavies, the full-bodied, well-aged, “brandy-style” sipping rums. The rums to which all other rums aspire. These are the rums to which we should aspire.
Tracking them down might take a little work. (Warning: This may involve educating/humiliating the bartender or salesclerk who tries to sell you a bottle of Malibu for sipping.) If you’re lucky, you’ll find a pro like chef Robert Fathman at Azure, who knows as much about aged rum as he does about food. Two of his—and my—favorites on his bar hail from Guatemala: Aged in bourbon barrels for 23 years, Ron Zacapa Centenario is a viscous nectar reminiscent of toasted hazelnut, vanilla, and a touch of caramel and nutmeg that’s hard to put down. (The secret? It’s distilled at sea level but aged at an altitude of 7,650 feet.) Ron Zaya Gran Reserva is just 12 years old, but the elixir tastes like tropical fruit dipped in caramel.
Rum's the Word
by Elizabeth Noll
This is how it happened. One day, someone living a little to the south of you and a little to the north of Havana decided that if revolution was possible for coffee, bread, beer, and wine, it was also possible for rum. In other words, it was time for Americans to give up their monochromatic understanding of this sugar cane spirit, just as they had relaxed their grips on cans of instant coffee and loaves of squishy white bread.
Most of us grew up with--and threw up--rum and Cokes, rum punch, and piña coladas. Sipping rum seems just a little...wrong. But that's only because we haven't tasted rum that's been aged for a few years and distilled a couple of times. Today your chances of coming face to face with rum that's good enough to nurse like expensive Scotch are very good.
One of the standard-bearers of this rum revolution is John Mihajlov, co-owner with brother Michael of the Minneapolis downtown nightspot Tiburón Caribbean Bistro. The Mihajlovs have more than one claim to fame: Diners gawk at their 42-foot-long fish tank (complete with real sharks) and on Friday and Saturday nights the salsa crowd packs the dance floor. The brothers are also rum aficionados: Nearly 40 bottles of Caribbean and Central American rum, most of it sipping quality, line the shelf above the bar. John Mihajlov admits that part of the reason he opened Tiburón was because he enjoys rum himself. Also, he saw the future, and the future was top-shelf rums.
"It's a very new thing for the United States," he says. "It'll be the next trend. It started in Miami, and it's heading up the coast to New York and L.A."
Why rum? "It's a cycle," he posits. "For a while the trend was a lot of tequilas. [But] with tequila, people have that bad experience in college. With rum, the feelings they usually have are being on vacation and doing something exotic."
Mihajlov has toured plantations and distilleries in the Caribbean and he can give you chapter and verse about the many varieties of rum and how they come to taste so entirely different. On a recent Friday night he ignored the press of thirsty salsa dancers to take this City Pages writer and a friend on a guided tasting tour of the rum selection.
Sugar Cane Country
Rum is made from sugar cane, which is why the Caribbean is worldwide rum headquarters. Either sugar cane juice or molasses (which is what's left when sugar cane juice has been boiled and the crystallized sugar removed) is fermented with yeast and water. This step can take as little as a day for light rums, or as long as several weeks for heavier rums. The fermented mixture is then distilled. Heavy rums are usually cooked in pot stills (a copper pot that narrows into a tube at the top; the same kind used to make Scotch and cognac) and light rums in column stills (a more efficient still also used for vodka and industrial alcohol).
When rum comes out of the still, it's clear. It darkens slightly as it ages in oak barrels, although what we think of as dark rums generally get that way through the addition of caramel for color. Aging in oak also mellows the flavor.
At Tiburón, rum comes in four basic categories: flavored or mixing rums, quality rums, sipping rums, and reserve or refined rums. Flavored rums are of lesser quality; they're made to be mixed with fruit juice and the like. The rest are made to be served straight up or with water or ice.
Not all of Tiburón's rums are on the menu. In fact, some arrive in such limited quantities--one or two bottles--that they may or may not be there on a given night. That's the case with Mihajlov's favorite, a rum from the island of Anguilla called Pyrat Cask 23. It's one of the most expensive rums they have, at $40 a glass, and he says it's the best--even better than their Bacardi Millenium, which is $100 a glass.
Some of the workers at the Pyrat distillery are former Grand Marnier makers, which Mihajlov suspects might have something to do with why Pyrat Cask is exceptionally tender and buttery. "It's got the nice oak flavor, it doesn't taste burnt at all," he says. "It's very complex."
Another reason Pyrat Cask is so good, according to Mihajlov, is that it's made entirely from sugar cane grown on Anguilla, whereas most rum is made from cane grown in many different places: "They've got the best cane out there."
Just as wine grapes take on the taste of their surroundings, a rum's flavor derives from the place where the cane grows, explains Mihajlov. "Each island has different flavor characteristics: It depends on sunshine and salt content of water and things like that."
Even wind makes a difference, he says. Cane that grows on the windward side of an island is thicker than cane grown on the leeward side, and produces rum with a woodier, more full-bodied flavor.
Age matters too, as does the number of times a rum is distilled. Mihajlov carries two versions of Flor de Caña, a Nicaraguan rum. The five-year-old rum, amber in color, smells leathery and has the bite and the burn of a good Scotch. The four-year-old Flor de Caña is pale yellow and has a sweet, fruity flavor--it purrs rather than bites. Both are distilled twice.
Prepare to be happily shocked by the intense aromas of quality rums. If identifying the scents in a given wine can be compared to a game of chess, where each scent is woven with many others and naming them requires thoughtful consideration, identifying the scents in sipping rum is like a game of tag. When you give the glass or snifter a little swirl and a sniff--which is, Mihajlov says, the right way to go about it--the scent reaches out and slaps you. For instance, ginger perfume hovers over a glass of Möet Hennessey's 10 Cane, a sugar cane juice rum from Jamaica, aged only six months.
Mihajlov claims he can identify by smell which island a rum came from.
There's No Turning Back
After we sampled the good stuff, we turned back to more familiar territory. Banana rum, from Virgin Islands producer Cruzan--the label that Tiburón uses for rail drinks--is clear and light, with no bite and no body, but a bouquet of banana strong enough to catch at a wedding. Mihajlov explains that flavored or mixing rums are fermented in stainless steel containers, whereas almost all of the higher quality rums are aged in oak barrels. A dark rum, also from Cruzan, smelled like molasses candy but lacked the silkiness of the aged rums.
Finally, we tried to sip regular old Bacardi. We couldn't drink it. It smelled and tasted like medicinal alcohol; there was no other aroma or flavor. After all the good rum we'd tasted, it felt unnatural--like when you go back to work after vacation.
Mihajlov smiled at our wrinkled noses. He told us he always gives people a glass of standard Bacardi last, after they've tasted the finer rums, and the reaction is always the same. This type of Bacardi (there are more expensive kinds) is distilled once and aged one year or less.
It was obvious that we still didn't understand the extent to which our taste buds had been reeducated, because we proceeded to order a rumrunner. Again, we couldn't drink it. The tall, frosty, pink glass looked candylike--just the right thing to wrap up a night of serious learning--but to our disappointment, even the sugary froth of crème de banana, lime juice, grenadine, and pineapple juice couldn't hide the thin, sharp taste of Meyer's and Cruzan rums. It's no small thing to find the flavors of a tropical drink coming apart on your tongue--and to realize the tongue is unhappy about it.
Cruzan Premium Light
This rum from St. Croix is aged 2 years, which is twice as long as the Bacardi. This rum really surprised me. It was extremely smooth, smooth enough to be sippable. It smelled a bit of wood, which is expected from the aging, but unexpected since I would have figured that it would have been filtered out. There were hints of some fruit, both light and dark ones, which gave it some nice taste even though they were mild in a white. It carried some hints of vanilla, and bit of a smell of ethanol but far from the Bacardi.
Compared to the Bacardi… there is no comparison. I had thought the Bacardi was decent, but the Cruzan pointed out how harsh it was and made me very aware of how little taste the Bacardi possessed. But the Cruzan isn’t very similar to the Bacardi. The Cruzan has less taste overall - even though I could detect several different tastes and smells they were faint, whereas the Bacardi taste was bolder. The Cruzan seems like a rum that will get lost in a cocktail, and that makes it perfect for certain drinks, when one wants a faint rum taste that is smooth and not brazen. www.CruzanRum.com
RUM REVIEWS BY
Scott Steeves
Kaniche Rum Martinique
I just felt like sipping a rum tonight, and felt like a “classic” sweet rum. After passing over several of the darker, aged sipping rums, my eyes landed on a bottle of Kaniche Rum Martinique. From what I remember this is not quite a “classic” rum and it’s not too sweet, but for some reason it clicked tonight.
The Bottle
The bottle says this is “From the French Caribbean” and also that it’s a “Product of France.” A article by Robert Plotkin, Anejo Rum - New Darling Of The Snifter Set, says that the Kaniche Martinique is “A blend of old rums, Kaniche Martinique Rum is aged 12-years in small cognac casks. It is highly aromatic and has remarkable finesse and complexity.” (Plotkin also wrote an article called Sizzle In The Caribbean - The 12 Most Romantic Rums which was key to my beginnings of rum enjoyment.)
My memories of my last bottle, from about 2 years ago, says that it’s a very good rum and just about exactly fits the mood I have tonight.
Initial Tastes
This is a medium golden rum, and smells quite fruity yet not too sweet, with the barest hints of barrel and apple and some other delicacies. Given Plotkin’s description above, I can certainly detect some cognac overtones here.
The taste is quite like the smell described, though quite a bit dryer than expected and a touch more wood. Generally I don’t care for wood tastes in my rums, but this is quite subtle and far from the smoke or char tastes that I truly dislike. The mid-tastes are good, not too strong and with some very subtle tastes rolling around. The finish is short, with a very mild burn that makes this very sippable. It’s definitely a dry rum, which is to be expected from a French Martinique rum. It’s also quite tasty, and very much a fine sipping rum.
Second Round
Another taste makes me think deeper about those delicate tastes inside, and my thoughts tend towards what is almost heresy: This is probably a damned fine mixing rum. It’s bold enough to stand up to being mixed, yet it’s not overpowering and would complement many mild fruits. Yet its dryness does not lead towards one of those “typical” overly-sweet fruit-and-rum drinks. It’s sophisticated, and would deserve a sophisticated cocktail. I’ll have to keep this in mind…
Summary
Another small glass gets poured as I contemplate this rum again… It’s dry, not sweet like I normally like, yet I don’t mind that lack of sweetness. The dryness works well here. It certainly has complexity, but in very subtle ways - most likely a carry-over from the cognac casks. This is quite smooth, and very sippable as I’ve said. The predominant flavors are fruit, a little wood, and the rest is all subtle tastes with a great balance overall.
This is certainly a high quality rum, and when I checked the label for the price I was pleasantly surprised: $27. But I snagged this on a whim at a rather ritzy little wine shop in an overpriced town, so I would expect to pay closer to $23 or $24 normally. For that price, this is a very good rum indeed.
Castries Peanut Rum Creme
Scott Steeves
This liqueur is a mix of Madagascan vanilla, roasted peanuts, spices, cream and St. Lucian rum. It’s packaged in a very unique bottle and is the first spirit from St. Lucia to become available in the United States. It comes very highly rated - it received a 94 from the Beverage Tasting Institute and 2-time winner of BIT’s Best Cream Liqueur category, received a Gold Medal and 95 points in the 2004 International Review of Spirits.
Rum, peanuts, and a boatful of accolades and awards. I’ve been drooling over this stuff for months now, and I was finally able to obtain a bottle a few days ago. It runs about $29 for a bottle - for a 32-proof spirit - so it’s not quite cheap but still affordable. I hope it lives up to the hype, because I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.
Initial Tastes
Although this liqueur, as with any cream liqueur, should probably be served on the rocks, I have to start with it neat to get the full tastes and aromas. I’m sure that I will progress to a glass on the rocks - I may even try one of the cocktails listed on the website - but for now, it’s neat.
The first smells are a very nice balance of cream, peanuts, and slightly fainter rum. While this is to be expected I have to mention that there’s a very nice balance here - no one smell is predominant. The rum smell is a little beneath the surface and I wouldn’t be surprised if a non-rum drinker would not recognize it as rum. A good sip - it’s only 32-proof, remember - continues that balance of flavors I mentioned. This is very nice, though I have to think that it hasn’t opened up yet. A cream liqueur drunk neat is not ideal. Another sip was swished about gently since I wanted to check the mouthfeel. Most cream liqueurs coat the mouth with a cream leftover that I generally find unpleasant since I am not a lover of milk. The Castries also does the same, though it’s a bit cleaner than other creams I’ve had. The swish seems to have brought out the peanuts since they were predominant this time, pleasantly so, but noticeable. The finish here is expectedly mellow, but this is where the small amount of spices make themselves known.
Overall this has a very nice balance of tastes. The rum hides in the background a bit more than in the smell, and the peanuts come up a notch. The spices after the swallow are very pleasant and a nice way to finish.
On The Rocks
I have to stop a moment to talk about ice, the often-forgotten component of cocktails. This is because I grabbed the ice-cube tray in the freezer and it had obviously been there a while since the cubes had shrunk a bit from evaporation. I grabbed a half-dozen and threw them into an old fashioned glass and carried that over to the Castries. Then I sniffed the glass containing the ice cubes and made a face. They definitely picked up a number of smells and flavors from the fridge.
Be nice to your cocktails: Use Fresh Ice! Store-bought packaged stuff is best, since it goes through such a clean environment. But the ice in your freezer is probably a bad thing to add to a cocktail, so throw it out and make some fresh stuff.
I’ll be back in a few hours. Dammit.
On The Rocks - For Real This Time
OK, fresh ice that smells like fresh ice (that is, it doesn’t smell at all), and I’m ready for some Castries on the rocks. Yes, this is definitely the way to go - cold and tempered a bit, the Castries really tastes great. None of the tastes are forceful in any way and the balance is extremely pleasant. I could probably finish this bottle right now.
But I won’t, since I have a habit of sharing rums with friends in order to make them see the light. Most are usually very receptive to my sharing habits, and it’s a good way for me to get more insight into a rum. But hey, I have a full bottle, and that drink went a little too quick, so just one more…
I must have let the last drink sit a bit before I damn-near-guzzled it, because this one is more like it should be. It’s not too cold and not too watery so the aromas and flavors are far more apparent. It’s really surprising me how the peanuts work in this liqueur. That is, I had expected to be assaulted by the tastes and smells, but Castries has done a damn fine job of balancing the flavors. The rum and peanut tastes lag slightly behind the cream until the swallow when the peanuts take the lead role without being overly dominant. It’s really a quick flash of roasted peanuts that go by as it finishes, and then the mild spices let themselves be known. And I have to reiterate that it’s nice to have a relatively clean cream liqueur that doesn’t leave the mouth coated after a drink.
I have to say that I don’t really notice the vanilla - while I think that’s a shame because I love vanilla, I have to expect that the Castries folks are doing the right thing. When I search for the vanilla I can find it, but it’s really just another piece of the fine balance in this liqueur.
Summary
One thing I have to mention is that this liqueur may surprise you. A rum-based cream liqueur? A peanut-based cream liqueur? Rum and peanuts? Forget all that unless you’re allergic to peanuts, because this liqueur is not what you think if you’re asking those questions. It is an exquisite liqueur, with an outstanding balance of tastes.
This is a damned fine liqueur, for sure, and one that easily goes onto my Highly Recommended list. The flavors work very well together, and the balance is superb. This is going to be one that I love to share but I’ll hate to see it go. www.CastriesCreme.com
NOTE: For some REALLY good Rum information, check the guys out at www.RumReviews.com | Their site is devoted to the pursuit of the best rums, rum bars and rum cocktails. They are trying to sharing an unbiased thoughts and opinions for the perfect buzz in the most delicious way possible. |
