Ron Jeremy now has his own rum. Which I would be pretty stoked about if I wasn’t seething with jealousy. I mean, what’s he accomplished that Bilgemunky hasn’t?

Oh yeah, that.

Anyways, it looks classy as all hell, which only makes it all the awesomer that it’s Ron Jeremy’s rum – quite literally Ron de Jeremy (is that a pun? Play on words? I get them confused.)

They’ve promised to send me a bottle once they release them to the US market, so fingers crossed I can share the news with you soon!

In the bottle, the new vs. old Zayas are nearly identical. The dark amber color is a near perfect match, and it’s only by holding up to the light and looking carefully that you can tell the old Zaya is slightly redder, while the new is a bit more orange. The bottle structure and labels are also nearly identical, although the script beneath the rum’s name now reads “Imported Rum from Trinidad” rather than the former “Imported Rum from Guatamala”, and the small disc above the tag now bears a tropical coat of arms instead of the previous sun-god looking thing.

To the nose, the difference is much more immediately apparant. Old Zaya smells of bananas, fruit, and sugarcane. It’s cool and clean – not as musky as many darker rums, nor as oaky. In truth, the aroma is distinctly light for a dark rum, but still very rich. New Zaya is a stark contrast – still very sweet, but this time more of raisins. It also smells much sweeter, and more syrupy. It reminds me more of the profile I would expect from an Indian rum, rather than Caribbean.

Of course, with any beverage the ultimate factor is taste – and as usual, taste here neatly follows nose. Old Zaya is indeed very smooth. Its sticky sweetness lacks the heady molasses kick I prefer, but the quality is clear just the same. It doesn’t boast any real burn going down, but a definite warmth is left behind. New Zaya feels still warmer on the tongue, and boasts a sweeter, more candy-like taste. It’s not quite as smooth, and has just a slight “cough syrup” sensation about it, but overall it still tastes of a quality – albeit different – product.

All told, I’m not inclined to declare New Zaya a drastic reduction in quality from Old Zaya. But it is certainly not the same rum. Old Zaya is clearly the more appropriate choice for sophisticated palettes, while New Zaya seems best for those who enjoy higher end flavored rums such as Captain Morgan’s Private Stock, Sailor Jerry, or Kilo Kai. In fact, it could be an excellent transition rum for those wishing to remove the training wheels of the spiced rums. However, those of us already well acclimated to the world of rums – particularly those of us who enjoy a little gunpowder in our swill – will find the new Zaya a stark departure from our prefered tastes.

A couple of brief tasting notes on four American produced rums – two from Rogue, and two from Dogfish Head. I’ve only tasted one from each thus far, and neither were what I’d call stellar. But the article is still very interesting.

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from Internet Wines and Spirits

What is it with eastern Indians and pornographic rum? Really, I have only two rums in my collection from India, and both are labeled as being XXX. Old Monk rum, I notice, is aged seven years, which is admirable. But seven years is hardly “old”, and certainly not old enough to participate in XXX endeavours. But I digress…

Old Monk Rum comes in a squat, rotund, uniquely textured bottle that makes it stand out from many of its contemporaries on the liquor shelves. The label features a smiling, rather european looking monk, and in big red letters features the aforementioned XXX. In the glass, Old Monk is a rich amber. To the nose it smells of the distant, candy sweetness common amongst sugarcane-juice frenchy rums, rather than the embracing, robust sweetness of molasses real rums. It lightly burns the back of the nasal cavity, and also carries hints of charred leather and cherry cordial (seriously.)

As is common with rums, it tastes much as it smells – no real char here, but the cherry cordial does indeed make itself known. A pleasant burning, tingly sensation dominates the experience, and remains a surprisingly long time following that first swallow.

Old Monk Rum lacks many of the warmer, deeper elements I generally prefer in my rums. But judged for it’s own qualities, it’s somewhat decent. It’s also a very affordable rum, so I recommend checking it out, if the opportunity presents.

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from Internet Wines and Spirits

During my earlier years as a partaker of rum, Appleton V/X remained an ongoing staple. Where some rums were nuanced or brought unique character to the game, V/X remained rum – plain and perfect. In time I grew out of V/X, my more refined (or perhaps robust) palette thirsting for greater challenges. Enter Appleton Extra.

Appleton Extra is everything that was V/X, only older and more sophisticated. It’s darker, heavier, oakier. It’s a bit more brutal, and a bit more rewarding. In short, it’s a definitive trade up from V/X, which I still maintain to be a fine entry-level sipper.

Appleton Extra is sweet and smells of wood and molasses, tasting much of the same. It’s rum – unblemished and uncomplicated. And that’s what makes it wonderful.

I’ve never stooped to trying Appleton Special, and I’ve not yet forked out the cash for Appleton 21. But for now, Appleton Extra is an excellent basic sipping rum.

Bacardi has long been at the forfront of rum, at least so far as nightclubs and bars are concerned. A staple of mixed drinks, I’ve long avoided drinking the stuff straight. But having explored rums far and wide, it seems high time I finally take a swig or two of what’s been readily available from day one.

I’m unclear which is meant to be Bacardi’s premiere sipping rum – either Bacardi Select or Bacardi Solera. For this review, I tried the Select. I bought a bottle, poured a glass, and gave a long overdue fair shake to this rum I’ve so long avoided. And the result?

C’mon, Bacardi. Is this really the best you can do? The largest existing distillery with the greatest resources at your disposal, loads of heritage beneath your wings, and you call this retch “Select”? Gosling’s Black Seal probably dumps better rum than this down the drain – and sells a better product for half the price. So do others, for that matter.

To the nose, Bacardi Select is sickeningly sweet – more like cough medicine than anything one would willingly ingest. Beneath the sweetness is a hint of bananas, along with other varied over-ripe fruits and berries. The taste is similar, being what a milkshake would be like, were it made from molasses, and whatever fruits had turned brown on your shelves. It’s an experience that screams “imenant hangover” with the first sip.

For those that have difficulty reading between the lines, I did not care for Bacardi Select Rum. Each sip caused my nose to twitch to one side, and not in a good way. I have never held Bacardi Rum in high regard, and their “Select” rum has only reenforced this opinion.

Many words can be applied to Maui Dark Rum, but “timid” it is not. From the moment the bottle is opened, a broadside of sensations is unleashed. Oak and burnt leather, and a heavy sweet musk with hints of nutmeg and pepper. This rum can be brutal and merciless, and that’s before you’ve even taken a first sip.

Maui Dark tastes much as it smells, with the same musky earthiness, toffee, and a bit of char. It isn’t subtle, and it certainly isn’t gentle. Strangely, as this rum journeys through your mouth, it leaves the majority of the tongue untouched, instead focusing its attentions on the back of the mouth – the rear roof, the base of the tongue, and the back of the throat. It’s in these areas that Maui works its mojo, for good and for il.

And therein lies the crux. Upon my first taste of Maui, I found it overpowering, bitter, and somewhat an assault. As someone that generally gravitates towards the stronger, more brutal rums, I nonetheless found Maui Dark just too much for me. Indeed, my face contorted. The second and third tries (on seperate nights) were equally difficult, and I worried this just might be one rum I couldn’t appreciate.

I write this review on my fourth small glass of Maui (the first of tonight – I’m writing quite sober, thank you), and I’m more than a little surprised. This rum is still a challenge, but for the first time I also find intrigue buried within. This rum embodies so many rich sensations, but rather than being a delicate dance of flavor, it’s an all-out brawl. At first this can prove jarring and off-putting, but once more accustomed it can spur curiosity, and be worthy of further investigation.

I still don’t know whether I “like” Maui Dark Rum. I could never pour myself a double and casually sip it throughout an evening, as I can so many of its brethren. But a splash in a snifter can make for a truly singular experience – one worthy of exploration. Quite possibly an aquired taste amongst aquired tastes, I do not recommend this for the novice – or anyone more comfortable with light, friendly rums. But those of us who enjoy a little “yargh” in our rum may find this a uniquely worthy undertaking.

Note: The makers of Maui Dark Rum have informed me that they never actually intended this rum to be enjoyed straight-up, and that they feel it’s best suited to Mai Tais, Rum Baba’s and Dark and Stormy’s. This would be my error, as they sent me a variety of bottles and I assumed the darkest would be the most appropriate sipper. Despite their claim that this is NOT a sipper, I still contend that Maui Dark Rum can make for a uniquely complex, if not exactly approachable, experience for the seasoned rum drinker.

I’ve long been a fan of Gosling’s Black Seal rum. Dollar for dollar, it’s one of the finest rums around. True, it isn’t for the faint of heart – but it soundly encompasses what rum is meant to be, and is one of the most affordable rums around that can be enjoyed straight up. So when Gosling finally started making their Family Reserve Rum more readily available, I was duly excited to finally try it.

First, it’s always a delight when a rum distiller takes the time to package their product in a manner befitting a spirit of such rich history. Gosling’s Family Reserve (also called Gosling’s Old Rum) is bottled in frosted glass of an extremely dark green. Its cork is sealed in black wax, embossed with a company seal and identified with rustic labels which include individual bottle/batch numbers. The whole affair is encased in an open-faced wooden box, and is truly a sight to behold.

To the nose, Gosling’s Old Rum strikes of duality – cool light overtones counterbalanced with warm spicy undertones, along with a hint of plums beneath (a fruity, pleasant smell that I couldn’t quite place, but once a neighbor identified it as plum, it was truly unmistakeable.)

On the tongue, Gosling’s Old is sweet and heavy. Like many fine rums, it carries as much sensation as flavor, tingling through the mouth and providing a surprisingly instant feeling of comfort to the throat and chest. It tastes of oak and aged fruit, while still clinging tightly to its core rum heritage.

Gosling’s Old is more refined and approachable than Gosling’s Black Seal. But – unlike with so many other rums – this premium option doesn’t reduce its market-level cousin’s standing so much as it offers a refreshing alternative. I will continue to enjoy Gosling’s Black Seal on a regular basis without pining for the technically superior Gosling’s Old. Rather, Black Seal will continue on as a beloved staple in my rum collection for ordinary consumtion, while Gosling’s Old will be untouched save for special occasions.

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from Internet Wines and Spirits

Never has a rum looked more dignified. The bottle is tall and elegently marked with its black and gold label. The neck is tightly wrapped in palm, which contrasts beautifully with the rich mahogany, 12 year aged, pure sugarcane rum within. The bottle itself is extra thick, and the additional heft this creates only further lends the impression that this is a rum worthy of note.

Upon removing the cork, the rum itself smells heavy and sweet, and tastes the same. It’s full of contradiction, weighty and aloof, yet surprisingly forward. It’s kind of like meeting a dusky tribal queen dressed from head to toe in rich silks and golden feathers, and when you reach out to politely kiss her hand she instead sits on your lap and liplocks you in front of your bewildered crew. Yeah – something like that.

Projecting a sensation that’s massive yet graceful, this rum receives full marks. Each sip is soothing, warm, shivers straight down the spine, and leaves behind a feeling that now would be a fine time to die happy.

Rum is made with molasses. As such, molasses is a common factor in the very nature of the rum flavor. Sure, there are often other subtle facets – fruits, spices, leather, etc. But molasses is so much a part of rum that many folks don’t seem to differentiate one from the other. But sometimes a dark rum comes along that transcends – and escapes – the molasses and becomes wholly and truly rum.

Jack Tar smells cool and heavy – and shamelessly of rum, plain and true. It’s not brown sugar, it’s not molasses – it’s rum. And just a bit peppery. It has a hint of undefined sweetness – not fruit or sugar, just sweetly rum (there’s that word again.) To the taste, Jack Tar is a whole-mouth experience. Where some rums seem to settle on one part of the tongue or another, Jack Tar envelopes and conquers it all, spreading instant warmth and spice throughout. It’s surpisingly smooth, but is followed with a wonderfully satisfying bite after you swallow, leaving the roof of your mouth all happy and tingly. Subsequent sips build on the first, leading to an increasingly warm and deep experience.

Jack Tar’s website boasts that their rum holds up well to another Jamaican rum, Appleton V/X (certainly a decent rum, especially for new inductees.) Sadly, they do themselves a disservice with this statement, as Jack Tar actually holds it’s own against Appleton’s superior Extra, or even Pusser’s Blue Label. Like these premium rums, Jack Tar is upfront and uncomplicated, and yet it boldly captures so much of what a top shelf rum should be.

But here’s the kicker… Jack Tar isn’t top shelf, or premium. At least, not if you look at the price tag. At $15 a bottle, Jack Tar is a steal and handily trumps my staple Gosling’s Black Seal as a best buy – it’s easily on par with rums two or three times its price. I sincerely recommend snagging a bottle and giving it a try – pick one up for me while you’re at it.