In the world of brown spirits, age is becoming.
Later this month, Mount Gay Rum plans to get into the ultra-premium liquor market with Mount Gay Rum 1703 Old Cask Selection, a blend of rums aged 10 to 30 years.
There's been a lot of talk on Slashfood as of late about what aging can do to rums like Ron Zapaca (aged 23 years) and Old New Orleans (10 year using a special Hurricane Katrina weathering process). Recently Slashfood got to sit down with Chesterfield Browne, the mixologist for Mount Gay, to sip their oldest offering.
Mount Gay is best known for its bottle, which used to carry a detailed map of Barbados used -- legend says -- by sailors to navigate the island. The rum has been made there since 1703.
"We're the rum that invented rum," Browne said over a small glass of the 1703. Thirty years in an old white-oak bourbon barrel on the island of Barbados turns a harsh spirit made from molasses into some seriously smooth liquor. It's still rum, yes, but as smooth as any well-aged Scotch.
"It's About Time" used to be Mount Gay's catch phrase and Browne thinks its apt for 1703 -- the third offering from the company that also produces Mount Gay Eclipse, a rum aged 8 years, and Mount Gay Extra Old, aged 12 to 17 years and colloquially known on Barbados as "Mount Gay Black."
1703 is liable to be known as "Mount Gay Gold" for its label and its $99-a-bottle price tag.
To read more about the other aged rums Slashfood has covered, check out these posts on Ron Zapaca and Old New Orleans.


If there is a more evocative spirit available behind the bar than that of rum, I'm not aware of it. Pour me a glass of rum and within the vapors rises a raucous and even romantic history of joy, tragedy and debauchery: tippling houses in Barbados in the early 1600's, where British settlers supped the earliest permutation of rum, which they referred to as "kill-devil"; jug wielding pirates careening through the streets of Port Royal in Jamaica, wildly spending their pieces of eight plundered from the Spanish and British empires; independence-minded American revolutionaries huddled in taverns drinking rum Flips and plotting their resistance against the heavy taxes imposed upon them by the British; Americans fleeing Prohibition downing Daiquiris and Swizzles in the jammed bars of Havana; opulent tiki palaces serving Mai Tais, flaming Scorpion bowls, Hurricanes and Fog Cutters to lei-festooned business-men and June Cleaveresque housewives. I think of Piña Coladas at the pool, mojitos in a sweaty nightclub, an authentic Daiquiri while laying on a Caribbean beach with the tropical sun dipping into the sea at the horizon line.









