Introduction Caroni rum always seems to stir up strong opinions, and I was genuinely curious about this release—the Paradise #12. It's a limited bottling from the now-closed Caroni distillery in Trinidad, and bottled by Velier, who’ve built a reputation for unfiltered, powerful Caroni expressions. I’ve tasted a few Caronis over the years, and I was hoping this one would offer enough character without tipping completely into overwhelming intensity. With its full proof and long tropical aging, there's no question it would be full-flavored—but flavor alone isn't everything. Nose Right from the first pour, I was hit with the unmistakable character of Caroni: dense, oily, full of varnish and burnt molasses. There's an industrial note—rubber, engine grease, even a hint of old leather seat. But underneath that weight, I began to pick out layers of dried fig, clove, black tea, and a surprising flash of citrus peel. A bit of air brought out more savory depth—old oak, soy sauce, and a faint menthol edge. This is not a quiet nose, but it’s not one-note either. Palate The texture is thick, almost chewy, with the initial hit dominated by dark treacle, burnt sugar, and a strikingly dry oakiness. There’s a continuing backdrop of charred wood, spices like allspice and nutmeg, and something I’d describe as cooling tar. As it develops, I noticed warming bitterness—almost like espresso, along with old tobacco leaf. Despite the boldness, there’s balance here. It leans dry and earthy rather than sweet, and manages to stay just short of astringent. Finish The finish is long, grippy, and doesn't let go easily. I still had echoes of burnt caramel and woody spice over ten minutes after my last sip. Towards the end, it shifts into cigar box dryness—cedar, ash, something herbal. It's a rough-edged but memorable conclusion. Not overly smooth, but undeniably impactful. Price and Value Bottles like this don't come cheap, especially with the Caroni name attached. Prices will vary by market, but you’re likely looking at a premium for the rarity and cult appeal. I can understand why serious collectors chase these—there’s depth and plenty of drama—but I wouldn’t say it offers universal appeal. This is for people who want Caroni’s gritty, industrial character and aren’t deterred by big strength or challenging flavors. Background Caroni distillery closed in 2002, and since then, it’s become one of the most sought-after names in independent rum bottlings. This particular version—Paradise #12—was part of a curated set released by Velier, pulled from casks aged wholly in the tropics. Caroni aged in Trinidad tends to mature aggressively, giving the rum more resinous, concentrated notes compared to continental aging. Velier has been the key force behind Caroni’s reputation, and their bottlings—like this one—are considered reference points for the style. You can learn more about their work at the official Velier site. Also worth visiting for deeper background is the page for the now-defunct Caroni Distillery. Final Notes Would I buy this bottle again? If the price were reasonable and I was in the mood for something uncompromising, yes. There's a kind of clarity in its rawness that I find rewarding—but it’s definitely not a casual sipper. Is Caroni Paradise #12 suitable for newcomers to rum? Honestly, probably not. It's complex, but also intense and not especially forgiving. I found it's best suited to slow, thoughtful drinking—maybe alongside a bold cigar or after a heavy meal. How does it compare to other Caronis? I’d place it somewhere in the mid-range of intensity: more approachable than the standout monsters of the early Velier era, but still unmistakably Caroni.