Ab Ovo #23: The Baltic Rum Edition
The latest dust-up around one of the world’s hottest geopolitical flashpoints has us asking: What exactly is Lithuanian rum?
It’s been a slow transition into the new year here at Ab Ovo, so this week’s edition will be brief. But I’ve spent my few spare minutes this first week of the new year going down an inconsequential rabbit hole tied to one of the world’s most consequential geopolitical hot spots, and I couldn’t resist the urge to drag you all along with me. Apologies in advance.
My curiosity was first piqued by the following headline, which surfaced a couple of days ago: Taiwan buys 20,000 bottles of Lithuania rum destined for China.
I’ll let the BBC set the table:
Taiwan is sharing tips with the public on how to drink and cook with rum after it bought 20,000 bottles of Lithuanian rum bound for China. State-run media said Taiwan Tobacco and Liquor Corp (TTL) purchased the rum after learning that it could be blocked from entering China. It comes after Lithuania allowed Taiwan to open a de facto embassy there, a potential sign of growing ties. China downgraded its diplomatic relations with Lithuania days after.
In other words, in showing more backbone than the U.S. and E.U. can muster between them, Lithuania — a Baltic country known for its stunning landscapes as well as for being the first Soviet republic to declare independence from the USSR in 1990 (showing backbone seems to be its thing) — has stuck a finger in the eye of China by bolstering relations with Taiwan. China, in retaliation, has targeted Lithuania’s economy with measures that include refusing a shipment of China-bound Lithuanian rum. To reciprocate the support shown by one of its (increasingly scarce) friends, Taiwan accepted delivery of the Lithuanian rum that China turned away, going so far as to distribute rum cocktail recipes to its citizens to encourage rum consumption.
The controversy over Taiwan’s status within the international community raises all kinds of complicated problems with few easy solutions. I personally became obsessed with a much more straightforward question. Lithuania, situated as it is a fair bit north of the tropics, does not — as best I can tell — grow any sugar cane, the base ingredient for rum. Nor is the Baltic particularly known for being “rum country.” So what exactly changed hands here?
Details on the the transaction proved sparse, but we did learn from news reports that the deal transpired between TTL and MV Group Productions, a Lithuanian producer and distributor of spirits. A little more digging turns up that MV Group produces a dark rum branded as “Propellor Dark” and markets it as “Caribbean.” It retails for something like $15 USD (but not in the US as far as I can tell).
But where does it actually come from? Chris Devonshire-Ellis at Silk Road Briefing managed to dig up some additional details. This “Caribbean” rum — and we’re using that term loosely — is distilled in Lithuania using sugar cane molasses imported from Trinidad and Tobago. It’s then bottled, labeled (with vague terms like “legendary collection”), and distributed wherever fine Lithuanian rums are sold. Where listed in the catalogs of other international distributors, the marketing copy that accompanies Propellor Dark Rum deftly sidesteps the question of the liquid’s origins, stating: “This genuine Caribbean rum is created at a factory that has been making rum since the end of the 19th century.”
Forget for a moment that it’s not really a “Lithuanian rum” nor a “Caribbean rum,” nor is it likely “legendary.” Is it any good?
Well, no, not really, at least according to the few available online reviews. Some of the phrases used to describe it:
“Below average taste.”
“Quite OK-ish.”
“Nothing fancy.”
“Harsh burn at the end. Better mixed than neat sipped for sure.”
And also the more charitable “excellent with Coke and a dash of lime,” which is of course the signature of any fine sipping rum.
Conclusion: China may have the last laugh here. As Devonshire-Ellis points out, several Caribbean nations like Belize, Honduras, Guatemala, St. Lucia, the Grenadines, etc., produce and export real (and often very good) Caribbean rums while also diplomatically supporting Taiwan to varying degrees. And given that rum exports are a relatively big deal, economically speaking, to many of these countries, they may not look kindly on the special consideration the Taiwanese state is giving to an EU-produced competitor.
Moreover, Taiwan is now the owner of 20,400 bottles of mediocre rum of dubious origins, and China is not. Point: China.
The more practical lesson here: Don’t believe everything you read, particularly when it comes to labeling terms on wine and spirits bottles, and particularly if you’re not familiar with the specific labeling regulations of the country in which the bottle originated. There’s a lot of mediocre stuff of dubious origins out there, and it doesn’t take an international incident for consumers in any country to end up buying one thing when they thought they were getting something else. Thanks for coming along on this journey, we’ll be back next week.
Ab Ovo is a (somewhat) weekly newsletter produced by Clay Dillow (CD) and friends. If you enjoy our work, we’d love to have you as a subscriber (it’s free!). If you already subscribe, we appreciate the support — and don’t forget to forward this to a friend. Thanks for reading.
What We’re Drinking: Octomore 12.2
At the end of every year, just as the weather starts to turn cold, Islay-based Bruichladdich puts out its annual limited-edition range of Octomore “super heavily peated” Scotch whiskies as if on cue. If you’re put off by peated whiskies across the board, maybe they’re not for you. But if you’re only put off by the notion of a whisky that’s “super heavily peated,” I beg you to read on. As with just about everything in life, whisky is about balance, and Octomore whiskies have balance in spades. Octomore 12.2 — our favorite of the three most recently released Octomore 12s — spends three-and-a-half years in American ex-bourbon casks and a final year-and-a-half in casks that previously held French Sauternes. So you’ve got plenty of warm smoke in the glass, but also melon, honeysuckle, white peach, orange peel, coconut, and vanilla — lighter, sweeter notes that serve as a pleasant and moderating counterweight to the more savory/spicy notes of peat and warm toasted oak. The result is a whisky that feels less like a smoke bomb and more like a plate of fresh fruit and warm, honey-sweet desserts served fireside on cold winter evening. ($280)
What We’re Reading
Constellation is releasing boozy Fresca canned cocktails in agreement with coke
Covid brings America’s beer-vs.-liquor rivalry to a head
Scientists try, fail to find a DIY hangover cure that actually works