Havana Club

Last night, while listening to Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Jerome Kern Song Book, I reached the bottom of the bottle of Havana Club Selección de Maestros rum I’d been savouring, snit by occasional snit, since last October. It was delicious.

When it comes to spirtuous liquors, my preference has always been for booze (be it whisky, rum or brandy), that has spent a good long while resting in a barrel. I first formed a taste for rums of that ilk between 15-20 years ago, with the Havana Club Anejo 7 Años becoming a firm favourite that consistently offered what was, for me, a particularly appealing quality-to-price ratio. I had better rums; I had cheaper rums; but none that struck me as better and cheaper.

I was tempted last year to try something from the same producer at a higher price-point, hence the now-empty bottle above. It cost about twice as much as the Anejo 7 Años, and, while it afforded fine pleasure, and I’m delighted to have tried it, the extra expense didn’t provide enough extra benefit (for my palate) to justify a repeat purchase.