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Until recently rum has mainly been associated with Coke, cheap mixers in cans, denim mini skirts that are gynaecologically short and bad, sad memories of throwing up into pot plants. And, uh, maybe pirates.
That was till one sweet Friday night, several weekends ago when the folks at Lion Nathan flew a writer and a photographer from Viva down to Queenstown to meet Joy Spence, a master blender from Jamaica.
Although the title makes her sound like some sort of reggae star (or maybe a super-hero who gets the villains so drunk on cocktails that they can be defeated), it turns out she's a softly spoken scientist who used to teach chemistry, enjoys a spot of gardening while sipping on Steinlager Pure and who, for more than 25 years, has made her living out of making some of the best rum in the world.
Even though Spence occasionally lets out a choice colloquial "yeah mah-n", most of the time she's pretty serious about what she does - and that is, to blend rum and to travel the world introducing the joys of a fancy rum to affluent young drinkers.
"We're trying to educate consumers on what a premium rum actually is," Spence says. "Often it's thought of as a harsh spirit that you mix with Coke," she almost spits the words out.
"But rum can be sophisticated and we're trying to change that old image."
Which is why Spence says things like, "Jamaican rum is the champagne of rums," and goes on to talk about rum as though it's the finest of wines. For instance, just like wine, rum also has terroir, or geographic flavour.
Just as certain areas are known for certain sorts of wine - say Martinborough for its pinot noirs - so it is for rum. In the Caribbean, the epicentre for global rum production, apparently every island or island group is known for a different style of rum.
Taking the first sip of the very special rum that has just been opened here, in the appropriately luxurious settings of a millionaire's lodge overlooking Queenstown, Spence begins to describe Appleton Estate's 30-year-old rum as though it were wine. Or perfume.
"There's a top note of baked pear, then there's vanilla, molasses and it has the aroma of holiday spice," she explains to her small audience of novice rum tasters. When the rums are aged this way, they lose any harshness and should eventually "surpass cognac in smoothness," says the publicity material.
Although statements about the age of rum can be controversial - there don't seem to be hard and fast rules, although at least one of the rums blended into the bottle must be the prescribed age - one thing is true: the older the rum, the more expensive the spirit.
The bottle Spence is sipping from today will eventually cost the rum connoisseur close to a thousand smackeroos at auction - in fact, the first bottle, which was auctioned off to benefit the New Zealand Olympic team, went for $700. Only around 1400 bottles have been produced worldwide and New Zealand is getting a mere 30 to auction.
Slightly more accessible but apparently still hard to find is the 21-year-old Appleton Estate rum - this one usually goes for around $225.
"A 30-year-old should be drunk neat," Spence adds, lecturing the rum-tasting novices, "You should appreciate it in the same way that you do cognac or whisky."
"It's like bartender porn," agrees one of the Queenstown mixologists who's been brought in to serve up the special rum, in an exclusive cocktail of fancy cognac, saffron and gold flakes. "It almost bought tears to my eyes."
The resulting mix is, apparently, one of the most expensive cocktails in the world. Only a couple of bars in Queenstown will be serving this drink, and only until the rum runs out.
Which finally brings us to the thousand dollar question - for this is how much the cocktail would cost per glass if you could order it at your local bar: what does the stuff actually taste like, given ugly high school memories? Very nice, actually. Smooth as liquid satin and quite sweet, bringing a flush to the cheek on this frosty night.
However there was something that tasted even better: the rum itself, neat as Spence had suggested it should be.
Take away the gold, the saffron and the fact the cocktail required the alcohol to be burnt off, and the flavour seems more mature somehow - sexy, warm and welcoming with a distinctively husky voice.
Perfect for whiling away the hours on a cold winter night. Bring on the fur rug and the fireside. And don't mention the cola.
