Rum tasting


So my friend Kevin called me up last night, just before sup­per time.  “Are you gonna be at  home for the next ten min­utes?”  he says.  “I have a tast­ing we need to do.”

I said, “I have to take my wife to a din­ner par­ty, but I’ll call you later.”

Okay,” he says.  “I’m on my way home now.  Bring the 1919 when you come.”


About 7:30 I got over to his house.  In a gro­cery bag I had my cam­era and my bot­tle of Angos­tu­ra 1919, a delight­ful­ly smooth amber rum that, sad­ly, can no longer be pur­chased in my neck of the woods.  (Appar­ent­ly the Cana­di­an dis­trib­u­tor went bel­ly-up short­ly after Kevin bought me my bot­tle of 1919, and so I’ve been rather par­si­mo­nious in my rum drinking.)

Kevin had gone to the liquor store with the intent of pick­ing up some box­es, noth­ing more.  But he’d hap­pened upon a bot­tle of El Dora­do rum, and he’d remem­bered his uncle, telling him that there exist­ed a rum that was at least the equal of Angos­tu­ra 1919, and it was El Dora­do.  Kev­in’s uncle swore by the 40-year-old El Dora­do; what Kevin had dis­cov­ered in the liquor mart was a rack of bot­tles of 12-year-old instead.

We set them on the counter and, nerd that I am, I snapped the pho­to above while Kevin was adding ice to tumblers.

The Verdict

The El Dora­do is a bit dark­er, with a bit more molasses flavour to it. I found it sweet­er than 1919, but that’s fine by me; I’ll drink green gin­ger wine, which my wife finds offen­sive­ly sweet, so sweet isn’t going to put me off.

Both rums seemed to me equal­ly smooth; I dis­tinct­ly remem­ber telling Kevin, when he first intro­duced me to 1919, that it was dan­ger­ous­ly smooth, that I could­n’t tell there was even alco­hol in my drink.  The El Dora­do has that same silk­i­ness; it goes down almost too nicely.

In short:  Mmmm.

We seem to have dis­cov­ered a rum to rival 1919, and it’s one that we can actu­al­ly buy.


Inter­est­ed in prints of my pho­tos? Let me know, and we can work some­thing out.