A natural consequence of maintaining a line of annual limited releases is that each year will inevitably be compared to the previous, and if you have a single off year, it’s likely to be noticed. In such a case, what could’ve been a perfectly good standalone rum suffers from the success of the line in general. This is, in a nutshell, the 2010 ECS.

When tasted alongside its two older siblings, the 2008 and 2009, it’s immediately clear the 2010 is milder. A lot milder. You have to get your snout relatively close to the snifter before you’re really hit with what you know you’re supposed to be smelling: oak and vanilla. The oak is clear, if a bit understated, but the vanilla is a bit shy. If you stick around you might catch a little banana. On the palate, the oak and vanilla continue mildly, with some cinnamon added to the mix. There’s a bit of a chemical note that makes the ethanol content obvious with a subtle hint of dried fruit that’s hard to place, maybe raisin. By the time it makes it to the pack of your mouth a bit of brown sugar rounds out the profile. On the finish, there’s chocolate and ginger, oak and vanilla, but it’s still plagued by that chemical note that’s difficult to not consider a fault.

In our blind taste test the 2010’s milder profile made it a less compelling sipper (7.2/10) than even Doorly’s 12, our reference rum (7.6/10)—though I would attribute this to the fact we proofed the 2010 down to match Doorly’s 43% ABV; to be sure I would not recommend proofing down the 2010 at all. Interestingly that same mildness made it more palatable in a cocktail (7.4/10), though I wouldn’t advise shelling out for an ECS bottle if you’re looking for a mixer. Ultimately it’s a good rum that’s rendered a little disappointing by great expectations.

This installment in the ECS lineup has a lot in common with its predecessor, the 2008. Of course there are the obvious things: it’s a molasses-based pot-column blend, it’s tropically aged for 12 in ex-bourbon casks, it’s additive-free and non-chill-filtered. But beyond that, it hits many of the same high points as the 2008 on the nose and the palate.

As soon as you pour it into a glass you’re hit with vanilla and oak, with subtler notes of brown sugar, chocolate and dried fruit (mostly dates). On the palate, the stars of the show are oak and caramel, with vanilla taking a back seat. While I wouldn’t say the wood is poorly integrated (it’s not) you get the sense that the cask gets to be more of a character in the 2009. It gets a bit sawdusty at times; one moment the oak seems to be mixed with pine, and the next you’re questioning if an ex-port cask could’ve slipped in with the bourbons. The finish is strong—although it’s bottled at the 60% ABV standard for vintage releases, it packs an outsized punch. It’s much spicier on the finish than the nose or palate would’ve suggested: cinnamon and nutmeg.

In our ECS vintage taste test the 2009 was our favorite neat sipper (8.6/10); it had all the warmth and sweetness of the 2008, with more interesting barrel characteristics and a stronger finish. It scored lower as a mixer (6.9/10); while it may be an overgeneralization to say oak and citrus don’t mix it seems to be true here—the daiquiri was quite bitter and didn’t taste cohesive. That being said, this is rum is made for sipping, and for that it truly a delight.

It’s fair to say that the 2008 gets a lot of love; on RumX it gets an 8.7/10, a distinction shared by only one other ECS vintage, 2004. In my opinion, it lives up to the hype.

This pot-column blend spent 12 years tropically aging in ex-bourbon casks: the standard treatment for the ECS vintages. It’s additive-free and non-chill-filtered, similarly hallmarks of the ECS in general.

On the nose, you get the classic Foursquare one-two punch of vanilla and oak, supported by an underlying sweetness and warmth. On the palate more pronounced spice notes enter the mix: ginger, cinnamon, and allspice. The woodier flavors are very well integrated; it’s oaky, but it’s not over-oaked. On a second sip you might notice some subtle coffee, caramel and coconut flavors and maybe even a hint of salinity. The finish really indexes on the ginger and cinnamon notes, backed by the main chorus of oak and vanilla. You may also catch a slight note of leather—less new car, more old leather rucksack.

While I’ll leave the more head-to-head comparisons for the blind taste test write-up, it’s safe to say this is one of the best ECS vintages of the past couple of years. It’s delightful as a sipper (8.3/10) and surprisingly makes a compelling cocktail (7.5/10) even if that may seem a waste with where secondary market prices are.