Merci for the Rum Y'all: Time Spent at the Paris Shop A'Rhûm
Boutique A’ Rhum in Paris’ Right Bank.
part 2 of a sojourn through paris with rum
The Allure of A’Rhûm
A rum boutique exists on a charming Parisian street in the Right Bank that any enthusiast would find worthwhile. Tucked between two 19th-century buildings, its unique wedge-shaped design emerges from an angled wall, extending from one building close to the street to its neighbor, which sits recessed about 20 feet. With a roof, a sizeable plate glass window, and a welcoming door, this establishment is called A’Rhûm.
A Gallery of Bottled Art
Upon entering, I found the manager engaged in a phone conversation. He greeted me with a wave and a "Bonjour" before continuing his call. I took the opportunity to look around the store and appreciate its presentation before engaging in conversation. Stepping into A’Rhûm gave me the same sensation as entering a record shop in my youth.
I noticed the gallery of artwork adorning the bottles. From traditional depictions of ships, palm trees, and island charts to vibrant collages featuring flowers, birds, and marine life, the artwork spoke to the diverse nature of rum. Some bottles remained plain, devoid of artistic clues about the treasures held within.
I could spot a few brands I recognized as available back home—Real McCoy, Don Q, and Rhum JM, but bottles captured my attention I had only read about or seen online—Vellier, Rum Nation, Bristol. There were rare offerings behind a securely locked glass case, including Caroni and Berry Bros. Then there were numerous brands I had never encountered or even heard of—Two Indies, Cashcane, Mamam Bigette, and Navy Island. I also noticed rums hailing from unexpected locations like Mallorca, Cape Verde, and the Canary Islands. The latter piqued my interest since I knew that Columbus had brought sugarcane from the Canaries to the West Indies. Yet, I had never heard of rum production in places close to mainland Europe.
The Tasting Experience
During a lull in phone calls, the young manager greeted me again. Informing him that I was a rum enthusiast and a tourist, I complimented him on the shop and asked if I could take some pictures. He said, “Sure,“ and inquired about the rums I was familiar with. I mentioned I have a small company which produces Faraday West Indies Rum, which is a blend of rums from Barbados, Dominican Republic and Martinique.
He then offered to let me sample something. Intrigued, I followed him to a table at the shop's far end. He poured me a bit of Famille Ricci Rhum Alliance's Australie and Asia—a proprietary blend with the A’Rhûm logo on the label, showcasing a colorful, surrealistic painting featuring a kangaroo and an elephant. Although I had tasted a touch of Australian rum in my life (Bundaberg, many years ago), I had yet to try the offerings from the newer distilleries. I couldn't recall ever having tried rum from Asia. The nose of the blend was familiar, with floral notes and hints of caramel apple. The taste mirrored the aroma. It boasted an age statement of 10 years and five months, with a price tag of 68 Euros. While it wasn't something I had initially sought, after sampling it and considering the price, I felt it was a rum worth purchasing.
Next, Marco poured me a sample from another bottle, concealing its label. He challenged me to guess its origin. The rum appeared dark and viscous. Its nose carried notes of jam, cherry, and dark chocolate. The taste was sweet, oily, and earthy, likely influenced by the yeast used. Initially, I thought it might be Jamaican due to its characteristics, but having tried most Jamaican rums, I sensed that certain "je ne sais quoi" (funk) was absent. However, the flavor was familiar enough for me to make a semi-educated guess.
As the suspense was building, another customer entered, diverting Marco's attention to assist him. The man entered and began perusing the selection. I noticed his familiar West Indian accent when he inquired about "rhum du Japon." In minutes, Marco showcased several Japanese rums to the customer, who made his purchase and left.
Afterward, I told Marco I thought he would have been looking for something from the West Indies. Marco confirmed that while some people bought familiar rums, an increasing number were branching out from their traditional choices. He explained that the man belonged to a group of friends planning a rum tasting and wanted to bring something new.
Returning to the mystery of the blind tasting, I confessed to Marco that I couldn't confidently pinpoint its origin or distillery. However, if pressed, it hailed from Guyana. Marco revealed the bottle to me, unveiling the purple label of Balcones Texas Rum. I had heard of Balcones whiskey and its well-deserved attention but have yet to seek out their rum. I needed more information on the yeast or molasses origin. Through the Lone Caner, I later discovered that it was a blend of Barbados-style molasses and Louisiana blackstrap, created through an extended fermentation process. Whatever the recipe, it was clear that the spirit had been crafted carefully, making it another rum I would have gladly purchased. It was a remarkable rum, causing me to question my preconceived notions about rum.
To me, rum embodies armchair sailing. When I sip rum, I am keenly aware of its origins and attempt to connect with the terroir encapsulated in its flavors. I can enjoy a Puerto Rican rum or a Trinidadian rum with equal ease, adjusting my expectations to let each sip transport me to its place of origin. On a certain level, I'm less interested in the terroir of Texas, Louisiana, or even Vietnam when it comes to rum. Yet, this is akin to disregarding Napa or Sonoma's wines in the 1970s simply because they weren't Bordeaux.
I doubt I will eliminate my biases. For me, rum has always been a way to forge a slight connection with the West Indies. The success of American whiskey and bourbon likely owes something to the origin and terroir, although my claim needs more scientific backing. A sip of bourbon can transport you to a box at the Kentucky Derby, a blind with friends awaiting waterfowl, or the moment you step out of your Ford 150 after a long day's work. There's a certain sense of Americana and pride that accompanies whiskey consumption.
The Changing Landscape of Rum Enthusiasts
Intrigued by A’Rhûm’s clientele, I inquired about their customers and purchasing habits. Marco said a core group of rum enthusiasts possessed extensive knowledge about the spirit and sought attributes like full strength, pot still distillation, and high esters. However, a growing number of customers entered the shop to explore without being armed with online research. This group was tipping their toes into the world of rum and coming back with more questions.
During my nearly hour-long stay in the shop, the phone constantly rang, deliveries arrived, shoppers asked questions, and someone new strolled in every ten to fifteen minutes, leaving with a purchase. Only then, as I realized how generous and polite Marco had been with his time while seamlessly attending to his duties, I felt a twinge of guilt for leaving empty-handed. Though I couldn't take a bottle of rum back on the flight, I could buy one for my sister. I considered the rums Marco had kindly served me, but I didn't feel compelled to buy a US rum while in France. While pleasing to my palate, the Australian-Vietnamese blend didn’t pull me in. As I considered my options, I came across the bottle that caught my eye—a rum from Mauritius. My sister had once brought me a bottle from her business trip there, and I remembered enjoying it. Penny Blue, a brand I had read about but was unavailable in my local market, presented itself as the perfect choice. I purchased it for 38 Euros and thanked Marco for his time and expertise.
Author Owen Hyland founded Faraday West Indies Rum and lives in New Hampshire.