The other day my wife was playfully chiding me for getting old as I nuerotically pointed out the disparity in gas prices across the city. $3.65 in Hillsboro Village. Woodbine, $3.35. In Hendersonville, where the old Nashville money lives, $3.16 while the rich get richer.
Another tell of how many dizzying trips around the sun I’ve made is the repetition of my stories. By now you’ve probably heard the tale of how my best friend, Brandon, and I got stranded in Jamaica following hurricane Irma in 2017. He had left from Orlando and was already in the air when they began canceling flights. My connection from Nashville to Montego Bay was in Ft. Lauderdale. At the gate I befriended this old hippy who had a second home on the island and, to keep with the stereotype, was all “Don’t worry, mu-man. We’ll make it.” Turns out he was right, and as the last flight they let out to the island that day banked away from the coastline I could see through the window a large dark mass of gurgling clouds.
Irma curved north over Cuba making a direct hit on the tip of Florida, where we just came from. The devastating storm left a path of destruction from Turks up through Orlando. There were people at our hotel frantically trying to get ahold of family in the Wayward Isles, and back home in Florida my brother-in-law was dealing with a fallen tree now residing in the cab of his truck.
But for all that drama the island of Jamaica was virtually untouched. You would never have known anything was happening. Beautiful weather and calm seas. Seas so calm in fact the waves seemed to roll out like someone tossing a bed sheet rather than cresting in whitecaped breaks. Our trip was planned for 4 days. Montego Bay and Ocho Rios. Although, nothing was planned but relaxing and going where the ganja filled breeze blew us. It was quite ironic actually for two people who don’t smoke weed. This was before mainstream legalization in the states and openly smelling marijuana everywhere in public hadn’t become commonplace yet. Not to mention the strange expressions we garnered as what seemed to be the only two people on the island not partaking in the many party favors offered to us at nauseum.
We made some vacation friends, visited Ochi and the Dunn’s River waterfalls, found a local spot at Mahogany Beach, ate tons of jerked meats, and partied in Montego Bay at night gazing out over the bay tinted purple by Caribbean sunset against the backdrop of mountain descending into the sea. Along the mountain’s crenelations cutting across the sky the plumage of backlit Royal Palms cut a tropical silhouette.
It was magical and I hated to see it end. Lucky for us, it wasn’t going to. It turns out while we were parading around paradise Irma had caused enough damage to Ft Lauderdale airport that no planes could fly out. It would be another 2 days past our scheduled departure before they could send a flight to come get us. Essentially we were marooned on a tropical island. Which would have been fine except neither of us really financially planned to be there extra days and ATMs in Montego Bay are about as dependable as, well, an ATM in Montego Bay. The hotel cut us a deal and we were able to live off each other’s credit cards and honestly, those were the best 2 days of the trip. We truly lived like beach bums. Lounging on Doctor’s Cave beach during the day sipping Red Stripes and at night either eating at Margaritaville - which became a local club after hours, finding a cheap local jerk spot, or chilling at the hotel bar where Cool Kenny mixed up his jamaican rum punch for nightly happy hours. It was kind of amazing living like that with no cares, just floating in the crystal clear lazy Caribbean waters.
It was on this trip that I first became acquainted with real Jamaican rum.
This trip was also special for another reason. It was my first foray into tropical adventure. Sure, having grown up near the east coast of Florida I was no stranger to seaside shenanigans and maritime mischief. But this was right about the time I was coming out of a funk and really searching for some inspiration. Not just in my writing and music, but to reinvigorate my passion for life. After the infamous quote from my friend Kyle, “Find something that makes you happy”, I began spending more and more time visiting old haunts like Cocoa Beach and taking solo trips to Destin and Amelia Island. These were fated by the muses indeed, but I needed something more. Something the creative antecedents like Hemingway, Buffett, and Thompson had laid the itinerary for. I needed to get down island way.
It was around this time I also found myself in another transition. Going from the whiskey and red wine soaked nights which had become all too easy in Nashville, TN to my new love: Rum.
I have much love for all my rummy peeps out there, but before there were rum clubs and tiki bars in Nashville I was bugging local bartenders about their rum selections, talking with liquor shop owners and attending seminars by Jeff Berry. Notwithstanding, my knowledge of Jamaican rum was limited to Myers’s, which by the way remains one of my favorites.
But it was in Montego Bay that I learned Myers’s is mostly an export from the island. In Jamaica, at least the town we were in, they drank two rums. Appleton Estate, and the local favorite: Wray & Nephew.
One day Brandon and I decided to walk along the coast road away from town. Old hotels and a few ramshackled lean-to’s, we walked for quite a while, watching the sea gently wash over the rocks lining the shore road. Occasionally an aperture in the boulder-sized stones would allow a crashing wave to spout upwards onto the road lightly bathing our feet before receding back to the sea. At the end of the street we found a small local rum shack. I couldn’t tell you the name of the place if it had one and it was occupied by just a few Jamaicans leaning on the bar. One of which who introduced himself as Mr. Cool. Mr. Cool had skinny dreadlocks and wore workout shorts and a bright tank top. We let him order for us and what came out was a small bottle of Wray & Nephew Coco Loco coconut rum and two Coca-Colas. That was to this day the best coconut rum I’ve ever tasted and despite modern aversions to Coke, Jamaican rum blends perfectly with the flavor of cola.
We also had another drink. A light fruity drink in which we mixed simply regular overproof Wray & Nephew with a light fruity soda. A drink that is known to be a favorite among Jamaican locals and visitors alike and is the topic of this episode. A drink called: Wray & Ting.
Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Tony, and this is Pod Tiki.
↭↭↭
Sure, Wray & Ting is a simple highball, rum and soda, but it’s the unique profile of Jamaican rum that separates this drink from its highball cousins like Rum & Coke, or Whiskey/Ginger. So, let’s talk about that. A comprehensive dive into Jamaican rum’s rich history and myriad complexities would warrant an entire episode of its own, and perhaps will someday. For today, though, we’re just going to take a brief stroll along the timeline.
The prevailing theory is that rum as we know it began on the island of Barbados. It began as a rot-gut working class alcohol for the people, well, let’s call it like it is, for the slaves working the highly lucrative sugar plantations. You see, when the British arrived in Barbados they immediately came to realize three undeniable truths. 1: The people could dance way better than them. 2: It was really hot. And 3: That tropical climate was ideal for cultivating sugar, which at this time in history was pretty much like stumbling into a gold mine. Or, more accurately finding a gold mine that already had people living in it and saying, ”You know what? This is ours now.” When the folks working the fields discovered they could distill the byproduct molasses it all began. Eventually the fine European wines and brandies became hard to get so colonizers elevated production methods and began aging the rum, creating the fine spirit we have today.
Columbus stumbled upon the Island of Jamaica way back in 1494. Once he realized he wasn’t in Asia he claimed the land for Spain, who held it till the British took over in 1655. Funny anecdote, while driving the coast road from Montego to Ocho Rios we passed the bay where Columbus famously landed. Our driver exclaimed, “Look! This is where Columus discovered us.” His sarcasm not lost amid his thick Jamaican accent.
The Brits brought rum over from Barbados where due to production methods and local terroir it evolved into its own signature style. Infamous Port Royal resident Captain Henry Morgan was known to be quite the fan of Jamaican rum, further cementing the inextricable bond between pirate culture and rum. Another famous lover of Jamaican rum used it in a holiday recipe and to this day I recreate George Washington’s Eggnog each Christmas.
In fact, before New England rum became prevalent it was Jamaican rums which most early Americans preferred, and is said to have played more than a small role in the back room meetings of revolutionaries.
But what is it that makes Jamaican rum so distinctive? Queue the song Give Up The Funk by Parliament. “We want the funk, give up the funk!”
The hallmark of a good Jamaican rum is a deep yet high on the palate flavor note. Imagine over-ripe fruit mixed with rich molasses. It’s an esoteric note that’s difficult to describe, and I haven’t really seen anyone do it justice yet. Which is why that flavor is known by rum aficionados as simply Jamaican Funk.
But there is some science behind it. The funk is created in two facets: Pot Still distillation, which is a more traditional method of distilling using large versions of the copper pot stills you may associate with moonshine; and wild fermentation. That is, using yeasts that ferment naturally. This creates esters. Esters are a chemical compound that occurs when natural yeasts mix with molasses. This creates unique flavors. More esters equal more funk, and Jamaican rums are known for high ester counts. To further increase esters Jamaican distillers use a longer aging process, aided by the tropical climate, and the addition of dunder. Dunder is the leftover distillate from previous batches of rum. This can be added during fermentation to boost funkiness. Think of how sour mash is used to make Tennessee whiskey. In some cases sugarcane molasses is added post distillation and left to brew naturally giving the rum a darker hue and richer flavor. High ester seekers are akin to the hops snobs in the craft beer world.
Nowadays Jamaican rum is held to a Geographical Indication, or GI. This ruling states that Jamaican rum must be made on the island in the territory of the limestone aquifer water basins, must be diluted with filtered limestone water from that geographical area, and must be fermented using saccharomyces type yeasts. It also must be distilled in copper pot or column stills and cannot contain added flavors.
This ensures that whether pure copper pot or blended, Jamaican rum will remain unique to the island of its birth. No matter how many times it’s discovered.
↭↭↭
It truly is amazing when a product, or a blend thereof, becomes so popular naturally that it’s known by name without a big company having to trademark it. I’m looking at you Painkiller and Dark N Stormy. We’re not talking about some generic highball like rum & coke or gin & tonic. No, the Wray & Ting tells you right in the name which products are to be used. J. Wray & Nephew White Overproof Jamaican rum and Ting Jamaican grapefruit soda. Another thing separating Wray & Ting from the Cuba Libre, is that Cuban bartenders created the rum & coke to appeal to American tourists. Whereas, Wray & Ting was already being enjoyed by locals on the island and subsequently taken back by tourists.
There’s no clear cut origin date of the Wray & Ting, but it’s safe to assume that people have been mixing the two since the soft drink came out in 1976. Originally produced by Desnoes & Geddes, the makers of Red Stripe, Ting is unique to the islands in that it only uses Jamaican grapefruits. That’s not just some kind of ploy to boost local farming and avoid trade tariffs, Caribbean grapefruit actually tastes different than the Mexican grown varieties we’re used to stateside. The West Indies grapefruit is more bitter and less sugary. This offers a more authentic fruit flavor. Team that with the fact that Ting uses cane sugar and no high-fructose corn syrup and you get a refreshing yet bitter-sweet drink that is more reminiscent of light Italian soda than syrupy fountain drinks.
Acquired by Guinness in 1993 Ting was later sold to Pepsico in 1999. It’s widely available throughout the Caribbean but can be kinda tricky to find in the U.S. In places like Florida, where there is a significant Caribbean population you can get it in Publix, but deeper into the country you will need to find a Jamaican or Island market. If all else fails it is available on Amazon, though it’s a bit pricey.
Wray & Ting is one of those naturally evolving drinks that rises through the ranks because it’s not only easy to make and easy to order, but it actually tastes really good as well. And somehow Wray & Ting has managed to keep its street cred, not falling victim to ridicule and bastardizations like some of its highball brethren.
Of course, where there’s any room to capitalize on an organic trend it will happen. In the early 2000’s both J.Wray & Nephew and Ting rose in popularity and influence and Jamaican rum shacks began suggesting Wray & Ting as the go-to when visitors utter that infamous line, “Give me something local!”
But, what about the rum, you say? Let’s get into it.
↭↭↭
J. Wray & Nephew White Overproof rum is the standard. Not just for this drink, but it’s actually the mostly widely consumed rum on the island. And, maybe it’s due to my personal experience with it, but I won’t make you wait - Wray & Nephew is my favorite Jamaican white overproof. I say that because the genre has taken off as of late with the rise of Tropiki culture and the popularity of rum as a standalone spirit. Therefore, to make this episode a bit more fun, I’m going to compare Wray and Nephew with the other most popular white Jamaican overproof: Rumfire by Hampden Estate.
Wray certainly is the more traditional, but Rumfire is at the center of so much recent hype I feel this the perfect opportunity, in my petulant Pod Tiki nature, to pit the working man’s beach shack rum against the highly esteemed Hampden Estate offering.
I realize there are other brands in this discussion, mainly RumBar produced by Worthy Park. But this is not available by me and although Worthy Park is a formidable advisory, a worthy opponent one might say, it’s the least available and honestly the least talked about among the white Jamaican overproofs. But hey, if anyone wants to send me some I’d be happy to put it in an episode and give my thoughts. Till then, let’s dive into these two Jamaican powerhouses.
Covering the basic timeline of Wray: A Scottish immigrant to Jamaica named John Wray opened the Shakespeare Tavern in Kingston in 1825, but this was not another Scottish tragedy. (See, what I did there? That was for my literature nerds.) Quite the opposite, the tavern did quite well prompting John Wray to hire his nephew, Charles James Ward, in 1860. Charles ran the business side of things while John stuck to what he did best: makin’ rum and takin’ names. By 1862 they were bottling and selling their rum to other taverns around the island and the brand officially became, J. Wray & Nephew. The brand proceeded to win a plethora of awards for their rum across the island as well as Europe. This wasn’t the modern white version at first. They made standard Jamaican rum and continued to up to the mid 20th century. Famously it was J. Wray & Nephew 17 yr that Trader Vic used in the original 1944 Mai Tai before production ceased on that vintage.
In 1916 the company was bought by Lindo Brothers and Co. which in turn purchased Appleton Estate. Appleton, a powerhouse and staple of Jamaican rums in their own right, is the oldest distillery on the island dating back to 1749. In 2012 the whole conglomerate was acquired by our old friends, the Gruppo Campari. I wonder if Gaspare Campari ever smoked Jamaican weed? That would be a Campari Fumari. (Call back to our Negroni episode.) Another notable date would be 1997. That’s when Joy Spence became the first woman master rum blender in the industry in charge of J. Wray & Nephew and Appleton Estate, respectively. A title she still holds as of the recording of this episode.
It can get a bit confusing, as although Jamaican rum is all made on the island the individual distilleries can vary per brand under the Campari name. For instance, Coruba is a Campari rum though doesn’t seem to be affiliated with Wray or Appleton. Other brands, like my favorite dark blended Jamaican, Myers’s, are produced in an undisclosed distillery.
The style of white overproof rum is a blend of column and pot still rums that come in at a staggering 125 proof. That’s a bit of a stinger. The pot still keeps it funky while column still adds that light fruity crispness associated with that style. The result is banana with ripe fruit and dark molasses yet simultaneously crisp and tropical.
The nose of Wray & Nephew is fruity sweet funk tropical but with depth. Now, some may argue with my tasting method but I always do a 2oz pour with a medium ice cube. This is because I want to taste the drink initially out of the bottle and then how it progresses and opens up with dilution. My initial notes on J. Wray & Nephew overproof white was sugary with a strong alcohol flavor. Very hot finish but the funk is present. As the spirit opens up notes of pastel tropical fruits emerge. You know, like the tropical Skittles. It gets funkier, but not in an unpleasant astringent way, more in the sense that it is incredibly rich and packed to the gills with flavor. Like it borrows all the sweet summery fruit notes of Cuban white rum and runs it through a filter of high ester Jamaican funk. Imagine a troop of dancers dressed like Havana Tropicana girls but twerking to Jamaican house beats.
But, there on the other side of the bar, leering with its nose up and pinky out is Hampden Estate Rumfire.
By chance, but a weird turn of history, this brand was founded by another Scot. But instead of John, the bloke next door, we introduce Archibald Sterling. I know, that sounds like a fake name. Seriously, can you get any more of a pretentious name than Archibald Sterling? He sounds like a Bond villain. All jokes aside, Hampden Estate makes great rum, but they started way back in 1743 as a sugar plantation on the eponymous property. In 1779 they built the Hampden Great house as a rum store. Hampden Great House rum still fetches an exclusive price. By the mid 1800’s Hampden fell under the ownership of the Justice of the Peace of Trelawney, Jamaica D.O. Kelly-Lawson. During WW2 they were shipping sugar and rums, though their rums were predominantly local or proprietary labels. Through hereditary lineage the company came to be owned by the Farquarsons which sounds eerily similar to Foursquare, the major distillery from Barbados. Not sure if there’s a link there. They kept selling rum locally all the way to 2003 when they sold to Jamaica Sugar Company of Jamaica. A tad redundant, if you ask me. Known for the finest quality sugars on the island the brand began exporting rums exclusively to Europe, England and Scotland. Eventually taken over by Everglades Farms ltd, the new owners poured a ton of money into the brand and the community of Trelawney growing the Hampden name among locals. In fact, even in modern day some of the local accounts go back generations. In 2018 the first worldwide commercial bottling began, and although I give Hampden shit for being higher priced, they do have some of not only the best Jamaican rum, but some of the best rum on the market in general. The Hampden 8yr is a staple in my bar that I only break out for special occasions. Or with a fine cigar. Or after a tough day. Or, just when I have a craving for the best Jamaican rum on a Tuesday.
As for their overproof white variant? There’s not too much to cover as it’s made in the same style as Wray & Nephew. A blend of pot and column still rum made in the Jamaican fashion previously described but with a uniquely refined Hampden stylistic approach.
On the nose I find it initially has a smokiness almost redolent of mezcal or clairin, but then it fades and an underlying sweetness comes out. Flavor wise? Not very stereotypically funky. I can definitely sense its appeal to the courtly rum lover. It’s different enough to stand out, but perhaps too different, which makes for a great comparison. Rumfire is not as alcoholly as the Wray and a small amount of funk does make its presence known eventually, but seriously, it tastes way more earthy and smokey than traditional Jamaican rum. Though I admit while the bottle has aerated over the last few weeks the smokiness has diminished.
Now that we’ve met all the players, how do they stack up comparatively? In order to find out, let’s make a drink!
↭↭↭
I’m sure I’m not the first one to have tried this little experiment, in fact I know I’m not the first show to do it, and I’m guessing those of you who are fully entangled in Tiki do this sort of trial swapping all the time, but I don’t really do this show for the people who already know. For ya’ll it may just be interesting to hear my take. And I don’t do this show to pompously pontificate to people who know less than I do. No, I started this show wanting to share my experiences with tiki and tropical drinks and hopefully go on this journey alongside others who are finding their way in this wild wild world of wantonly wasting away.
That being said, this is how I conducted the trial. My control specimen was standard Wray & Ting, that is:
1 ½ oz of J.Wray & Nephew White Overproof Rum
4 oz of Ting Jamaican Grapefruit Soda
Pour both ingredients into a regular rocks glass or 10 oz collins. Add cubed ice and stir. Garnish with a lime wedge, and squeeze it in if you like.
The initial blast is strong funk, but it mellows out to a sweet grapefruit candy. Not cloyingly unpleasant. More like a deep rich molasses mixed with light summery notes. I would call it sweet-rich-funk. There’s a beachy vegetal profile. Like daytime on the beach in Montego Bay. Ocean lapping the soft sand. Heavy Jamaican chill vibes with a ton of flavor. A really nice drink.
Before I moved on to the next rum I wanted to try the Wray with a different soda. Because Ting can be hard to get I also made a version using Jarritos, the Mexican grapefruit soda we went deep into in our Paloma episode. This is my go-to brand for sodas because much like in the highly sought after Mexican Cokes, Jarritos uses real cane sugar rather than the high-fructose corn syrup they poison us with in the U.S.
Just so it doesn’t sound like I’m too high up on Mount Pious, I’ll let you know I do enjoy the occasional Mountain Dew. I mean, c’mon. I just figure I’m already doing enough damage pouring copious amounts of rum into my body so let me not push my luck.
I digress, as much as I love Jarritos grapefruit soda, it really can’t hold a candle to Ting. At least not paired with this style rum. The extra sour from Caribbean grapefruit is really necessary to cut through the high flavors of Jamaican rum. So, if Jarritos is your only option try squeezing the lime in, or even a slice of grapefruit.
Now we move on to RumFire. I did a tasting with a buddy of mine the other night and he looked at me like I was crazy when I kept on calling RumFire smokey. Perhaps it’s the earthy undertones, like rich soil, that is tricking my palate. But the Fire & Ting, as I’m calling it, lives up to the name. Smokey funk. That’s all I can say. Again, it reminds me of a clairin or mezcal, or maybe even a lightly peated scotch, but with the sweetness of rum. How does it fair as a drink? Well, I feel like the alcohol is more prevalent, for one, and that distinct dirty campfire taste overpowers the sweet fruitiness of the Ting. It kind of throws the balance off. Actually, it very much throws the balance off.
Again, I don’t want to sound like I’m coming down hard on RumFire. It just seems to be blended more for the connoisseur than a lazy beach highball. As with a lot of higher-end spirits it’s so nuanced that it appears to have less flavor. At least less of the heavy overripe funkiness one expects from a Jamaican rum. I understand a lot of folks love RumFire, and I promise I’m not trying to just be contrarian, but I wonder do they really love RumFire or do they just think they’re supposed to love it because it’s a Hampden Estate product?
In conclusion, I honestly think traditional Wray & Ting is the clear winner. Maybe I simply have fond memories attached to that flavor and nostalgia is clouding my judgment, but I don’t think millions of rum fans and visitors to the island can be wrong. Including Martin Cate who put this drink in his tiki anthology Smuggler’s Cove. It’s just a delicious, easy all around fun drink. A glass of Wray & Ting evokes a summery tropicality while simultaneously boasting an undeniable deep Jamaican funk.
Full transparency, this was not my favorite tasting as I really don’t care for overproof rums. Wray gets a pass because it actually tastes good and it holds a sensory memory for me. Furthermore, light Jamaican rums in general are not my bag. I love a light crisp rum, but I find the rich funk of jamaican works better with some age. That’s not to say I don’t crave the flavor on occasion, much like a mezcal or extra-peaty scotch, but, especially in the high rich funk notes of a pot still gold like Hamilton or Dr Bird, it just seems a bit out of balance without the softening of age. By the way of the previous 2 rums Hamilton is far superior. It’s the only pot still light rum I buy for home. I do not see what people see in Doctor Bird. Personally, I think it’s kinda astringent. But, yeah, this was a very slow tasting process for me especially due to the fact that one Wray & Ting gets me drunk.
On the other hand I had a ton of fun writing this one because it allowed me to get back to how the podcast started. Mainly, relaying personal experiences I’ve had with the drink at hand. I found myself wistfully wanting to be back on the island drinking beers and rum with my best friend. Dodging hurricanes and waking up to the plumage of Royal Palms flowing out from the green shaft that sprouts atop the tree like a bishop's hat. Fresh papaya and pastries for breakfast paired with Jamaican coffee. There’s plenty more to tell about that trip, like how they use their car horns to say hi while driving, which can be a bit unnerving at first, and I’m sure this adventure will come up in future episodes. So, maybe I do have a propensity for repeating the same stories. Or, despite my wife’s teasing, maybe I’m not that old after all and there’s still time to go make new ones.
Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Tony, and this has been Pod Tiki.
Sources: Smuggler’s Cove by Martin Cate, Hampdenestaterum.com, Punchdrink.com; How Wray & Ting Became The Unofficial Drink Of Jamaica by Drew Lazor, diffordsguide.com, drunkardsalmanac.com; Wray & Ting, spiritsbeacon.com; Jamaican Rum by Bernadette Pamplin, liquor.com, Wikipedia, drinkinghobby.com
Most of all thanks for listening and Keepi Tiki!
