And so entered The Admiral: the much-hyped, oft-discussed $80 “cocktail.” First off, I find the need to clarify: this is not a cocktail. This is rum served neat or on the rocks (though you could order it in a traditional daiquiri, but then where's the fun in that?). It comes from the United Kingdom’s last rationing to the British Royal Navy in 1970. This is a blend of rums, aged between 5 and 14 years, from Guyana, Trinidad, and Jamaica. Just a bit more highbrow than the Bacardi and Malibu I used to take shots of back in college.
The first sip? Fire. And not in the colloquial this-is-dope way. Fire as in, “Is my mouth aflame?!” Only a drop of rum hit my tongue and five minutes later I still had to breathe through my mouth. I passed it around so that my more tenacious tablemates could try for themselves. Reviews ranged from, “This smells and tastes like they liquified your grandmother’s house,” to a physical reaction similar to what I would imagine to be an epileptic fit.