Don’t call me agricole! So there you have it: we want to desecrate and provoke you a little...

The Kandinsky of rum: a god with an Egyptian head and a Greek body, brandishing a sickle yet fashionably dressed. A peasant at the ball. Those who admire our work will understand. And the newcomers? They will learn. This little known portion of the French colonial empire is in fact a crucial ingredient in the history of the Caribbean. Part of a whole extending from Indochina to Madagascar and sub- saharan Africa, from Canada to South America.

The export vehicle of transalpine culture to the world. Our not-agricole ages in Scotland, and adds to its francophone DNA a strong gene formed by playing with wood for twenty years.

A chocolaty nose, flashes of black cherry, almond and dried fruits as a prelude to other fragrances running riot: maple syrup, fruits-of-the-forest and mentholated echoes.

A different key in the mouth – without betraying the melody – as tobacco, vanilla and liquorice all come to the fore.

Spirit. Samaroli style