SUN DESTINATION

On the French Caribbean Rum Trail

By Michele Peterson

French Caribbean rum makers honor tradition – except for the piracy part.

A musician friend of mine from the Caribbean often refers to rum as “gasoline”– and he doesn’t mean moonshine. It’s his fuel, his source of inspiration. He drinks it straight up, like a sipping beverage. I’ve never quite understood the appeal; it’s always seemed a beverage best camouflaged with coconut juice and a cherry. So on a trip to the Caribbean, I decide to school myself in the allure of rum.

Rum has a particularly long history in the French West Indies, an area that includes the islands of Guadeloupe, Martinique, Saint-Martin and Saint-Barthélemy. Christopher Columbus is credited with introducing sugarcane to the Americas in 1493, and commercial sugar production quickly spread throughout the Caribbean. By the 1600s, missionaries in the French West Indies had begun to distill the product into a spirit. Soon a brisk trade in rum and slaves began.

Today Guadeloupe and Martinique continue to produce some of the world’s finest rum. Guadeloupe’s terrain is flat and dry, while Martinique’s is more mountainous, volcanic and lush, so the two islands produce very different flavors. The varied soil conditions have allowed Martinique’s rum industry to become more developed and to produce the only rum in the world with an appellation d’origine contrôlée (AOC) designation – the same standard that applies to French cheese and wine.

Guadeloupe’s rum doesn’t bear this symbol of quality and prestige, so Guadeloupe is the logical place for my rum education to begin. Rum wasn’t always made according to carefully prescribed and time-tested distilling techniques. As one Creole fisherman teaches me over a platter of accras, delicate cod fritters, followed by a soda pop bottle filled with homemade rum punch, rum was born as a cocktail of convenience. Pirates, French settlers and privateers in the Caribbean’s colonial era made fruit-infused planter’s punch mixtures with whatever they had, likely inventing the modern daiquiri in the process.

After a visit to the Médaille d’Or-winning Domaine de Séverin, I try a few varieties from small, ahem, “independent” distillers and reflect on the history. I come to the conclusion that Guadeloupe’s rum is closer in taste to these humble origins than the highball stiffener we get in North America. It’s more brut and unrefined, sweeter and fruitier. I’m quickly developing a fondness for Guadeloupe’s unique variety, but I came for the whole French Caribbean rum experience, so it’s time to hop a ferry to Martinique.

From unglamorous beginnings as the 17th-century seafarer’s intoxicant of choice, select varieties of French Caribbean rum have slowly matured into premium spirits. I head to Neisson Distillery to learn more. Founded in the 1930s and tucked in the shadow of fog-shrouded Mont Pelée, Neisson is one of Martinique’s last family-owned distilleries and one of 12 AOC distilleries along the island’s Route du Rhum.

While most countries create rum from molasses left over from processing sugar, Martinique’s rum is made directly from sugarcane juice. Known as rhum agricole, it is highly valued by connoisseurs for its ability to reflect growing conditions and  terroir.

“The complexity of rum’s flavor rivals that of Cognac,” explains Grégory Vernant, the great-grandson of Neisson’s original owner. I sample a 45-proof rhum extra vieux. Although the rich taste of caramel with hints of tobacco is appealing, I can’t help longing for a splash of pineapple juice. My education is far from complete.

What Martinique and Guadeloupe’s islanders have long known about premium rum, the rest of the world is fast discovering. I get a crash course in rum’s growing hip factor at swanky Cap Est Resort Lagoon Resort and Spa, a Relais & Châteaux refuge in upscale Le François in Martinique.

“Premium rums are enjoying a resurgence in popularity around the world,” explains rum sommelier Eugène Eustache, who presides over the bar’s menu of 115 vintage rums. My palate isn’t discerning enough to warrant splurging €200 on a snifter of Vieux Rhum Courville, but with Eugène’s tutelage, I’m able to avoid the tempting array of umbrella-drink cocktails. Instead, I select an aperitif of premium white rum. It’s the perfect complement to an inspired meal at Le Belém, the hotel’s fantastic French-Creole restaurant, and it marks the completion of my studies.

The next morning, I’m ready to do as the locals do and kick-start the day with a ti-punch. Cousin to the tequila shot, it’s a thimbleful of cane syrup, 100-proof rum and lime juice. To my hosts, it’s a nice breakfast drink. For me, it’s a graduation toast.

(Michele Peterson is a Toronto-based writer who was raised on the Canadian Prairies, where the spirit of choice was Seagram’s Five Star rye whisky with Tab diet cola.)

TOP IMAGE: SBPR CORP.
GUADELOUPE FOOD: ÎLES DE GUADELOUPE
RHUM: ISTOCK / A. COUILLAUD
CAP EST: P. WAGNER / RELAIS & CHÂTEAUX