Rum tasting
I have a confession to make: I’ve never been a huge fan of rum. I prefer my cocktails on the bitter side, and find most rum drinks to be too sweet. But I think that’s because I’d never had a well-made rum cocktail until recently. A visit to NYC’s Mother of Pearl (“a post-modern Polynesian restaurant and cocktail bar”) opened my eyes to the possibilities of craft tiki cocktails. And the drink menu at their sister establishment, Cienfuegos (“home to everything Cuban, and all things rum”), highlighted my ignorance about the many varieties of rum.
Clearly, I needed to do some research (after all, I am a scientist).
I knew (or thought I knew) that rum was made from molasses, and that it was classified by color, light or dark (I’m ignoring spiced rums, which are equivalent to flavored vodkas). But that doesn’t really capture the differences in style. It’s more useful to distinguish rums by the distillation method. Pot or batch stills produce a complex, full-bodied rum, while column stills yield a lighter and brighter booze. Often, the two styles are blended to achieve balance. The second factor to consider is aging, which imparts flavors and colors from the barrel, and mellows the sharper notes into fruity aromas. Then there is black rum, to which molasses and/or caramel has been added for a richer mouthfeel. And finally there’s rhum agricole, which is made from fresh sugarcane juice instead of molasses.
Rum country (unfortunately, not the site of our tasting)
Armed with this knowledge, it was time for tasting. I was joined in this endeavor by co-blogger R and friend E. My favorite liquor store (DC’s Ace Beverage) has an incredible collection of rums, so I picked five of various styles, plus one large-production commodity rum for comparison. Not surprisingly, this last one tasted sweet but was otherwise unremarkable. But the rest? Wow. Interesting, and completely different, to the point that we used other types of booze to describe them.
First was Banks 5 Island, an example of blended (both pot and column distilled), lightly aged rum. It was clear and clean, with some tropical fruit aromas and a bit of sweetness – a young rum, most similar to vodka. Next was English Harbour 5 Year, an aged column-distilled rum from Antigua. Copper-hued, with a nose of vanilla from the oak barrel aging, this rum was silky-smooth burnt-sugar sweetness, perfect for sipping – like a bourbon. Third was Hamilton Saint Lucian, an aged pot-distilled rum. Similar in color and age to the English Harbour, this rum highlighted the impact of the distillation method. Sharp, smoky, funky aromas combined with a spicy, woody complexity in the mouth – most reminiscent of a peaty Scotch. Next was Clément VSOP, an aged rhum agricole from Martinique. Amber-colored, it had a vegetal scent overlaid with orange peel and green apple, and a refined oaky, slightly nutty flavor – it reminded us of cognac. Last but not least, Lemon Hart & Son Original 1804, a blended black rum from Guyana. Walnut brown, with a nose of toffee and a buttery caramel sweetness from the added molasses – an amped-up version of rum.
“I’m tasting toffee. Werther’s candy. And a stick of butter.”
For our final taste test, we used each of the rums in that quintessential tiki cocktail, the Mai Tai. Again, the differences were dramatic. Some rums, like the Banks, played a supporting role, allowing the almond and citrus flavors to shine. Other rums struggled against those same ingredients – they emphasized an anise element in the Clément that R found disagreeable, and the funky aroma of the Hamilton came across as diesel fuel. We agreed that the English Harbour worked best, a harmonious partner to the drink’s other components. I’ve since learned that a combination of the Clément and Lemon Hart is similar to the original rum used by Trader Vic in the creation of the Mai Tai, and can attest that it also works wonderfully. I’m excited to try these rums in other cocktails, and will report back.
h.
P.S.-My new-found rum knowledge comes courtesy of the Smuggler’s Cove tiki guide. Thanks, R!
