There’s very little to be learned online about Ronsin; even on the website mentioned on the bottle (Espadafor), there’s no mention of this brand. It does seem clear it was made in Granada, Spain, and that it’s attempting to imitate a cane spirit profile. Other than these two facts, we really went into our tasting blind.

On the nose Ronsin has a very candied character. It smells like fruity gummies, and green apple warheads. On the palate the warheads comparison is even more apt, because this guy is positively mouth puckering. Tons of malic acid, green apple, and grape jolly rancher. The finish is light and short, leaving a bit of fruitiness lingering.

In our blind taste test we thought it was okay as a neat sipper (6.9/10) and pretty good mixed in a daiquiri (7.9/10). I find these rankings to be a bit misleading though, as, first of all, almost anything tastes good mixed with fresh lime juice and sugar (a common problem rating daiquiris), but secondly because the extreme sourness of the rum meant the daiquiri was truly out of balance.

Finding your “zing” is common problem faced by all non-alcoholic spirits, and while a little burn is nice, many overly rely on acid or a capsaicin-like spice that can be aggressive neat, and difficult to balance in a drink. Ronsin firmly falls into the “overly relies on acid” category. Rum is not sour, and acidity is a poor replacement for the heat of alcohol.

A reasonable objection is that you can rebalance your daiquiri recipe to accommodate the acidity of Ronsin. I would respond respond to this objection in two ways: first, given just how sour this one is, by the time you’re done rebalancing, you may end up with little or no lime juice, leaving you with a fundamentally different drink. But second, the broader point, is that one of the key jobs of a rum substitute is to substitute for rum.

So the resulting conundrum is this: it’s not gross, and not even unpleasant to drink if you’re in the mood for something tart, but it’s a really poor rum. Where does that land it? Unfortunately for Ronsin, this is a rum review.

The Superficial: One of the worse bottles of the lineup. While from a few feet away the label looks kind of refined, up close the poor label quality is obvious, and the plastic top looks cheap. Notably it has a flow restrictor similar to the one found on Wray and Nephew, which is strangely endearing to me.

Last year we weren’t able to source a bottle of Arkay’s Dark Rum offering, but we were able to try their light rum, and it left an impression. It wasn’t our favorite, but it had the strongest burn of anything we tried. Because of this, going into our tasting this year, we couldn’t help but be on the lookout for the signature Arkay burn (spoiler alert: we found it).

On the nose Arkay smells a bit like cherry medicine, with some notes of chocolate and cola mixed in. There’s also this general smell of refrigerant that makes you wonder if what your smelling is food safe. On the palate there is essentially no flavor, but there’s a lot of tingle. In marketing collateral Arkay says this is their proprietary W.A.R.M. molecule, which is allegedly “derived from capsaicin through a natural extraction process (the details of which are a trade secret) the EEC regulator approved” (I’m still unsure what EEC is being referred to; possibly the European Economic Community?). The burn feels medicinal and chemical more than it does “spicy”, and many of the other NA rums we tried use capsaicin in its base form. It’s the only NA rum we decided had a medium strong finish, and while it doesn’t really taste like anything, the tingle does linger for a while.

In our blind taste test we thought it was not great as a neat sipper (6.2/10, our lowest score during this tasting) and reasonably good mixed into a daiquiri (7.8/10—still one of our lowest scores). At the end of the day Akray has a really strong burn, and very little else. We found the burn to be unpleasant, though if you’re really looking for something to really light a fire on your palate, it might be worth checking out.

The Superficial: In wild contrast to the rest of this review, I really like the new Arkay bottling. It’s a little goofy, but being an NA rum is a little goofy to begin with. It’s got a large wooden stopper that feels great in the hand, and a matte label with embossed lettering.

Clean R is a zero proof spiced rum alternative from Clean Co in London. Although we throw around the term zero proof colloquially to refer to all non-alcoholic spirits, it’s a bit of a misnomer; the bottle for Clean R calls out that it contains “less than 0.5% ABV”, which is the legal threshold at which the FDA starts using the term “trace amount”. This raises the question, why include any alcohol at all if you’re trying to be “alcohol free”? In general the answer is that alcohol is a great carrier of concentrated flavor—this should be obvious to anyone who’s put a few dashes of Angostura bitters into a glass of club soda. In many non-alcoholic rums the “natural flavors” listed in the ingredients will be some alcohol based flavor extract. And while Clean R does list “natural flavors” in it’s ingredients, it also lists another conspicuous source of alcohol: rum!

My first reaction to that inclusion was the feeling that that’s somehow “cheating” (the whole point is that this isn’t rum, right?), though ultimately if they manage a solid rum flavor and clock in under 0.5% ABV, who am I to complain?

The nose is generally pretty faint, with some fruity and floral notes and a distinct dustiness. Though I don’t agree with this, my co-taster said it smelled like “trailer park carpet”. The palate is pretty moderate as well; a bit sweet, a bit sour, a little bit of burn anchored in ginger and menthol. The finish is at least a bit of a development, as it leans in a warmer baking spice direction, with a light to moderate duration.

In our blind taste test it scored okay as a neat sipper (6.8/10) but great mixed into a daiquiri (8.1/10). For all the intrigue I had going in because of the inclusion of actual rum, Clean R is pretty middle-of-the-road. It’s not too sour and doesn’t lean too much into simulated alcoholic burn, but it doesn’t have much of a personality and doesn’t come across as particularly rummy.

The Superficial: It looks like Clean Co has recently redesigned their bottles, but the one I got has a hexagonal cross section with fluting on every other side. I actually quite like the glass itself, though the plastic screwtop takes away from it a bit. The label design is reasonable; nothing to write home about, but not off putting.

A year ago when we first did a blind zero proof rum taste test I omitted Ish on the basis that it was meant to imitate a “spiced” rum, but as reddit user Historical_Suspect97 called out in response to that exclusion, all zero proof spirits are essentially spiced, in that there is no true base flavor—it’s all added. Though according to ISH they have a pretty nifty approach that may come as close to technically capturing the “base flavor” of rum: “Based on a de-alcoholized full strength spirit, originating from the Caribbean Islands of Jamaica and Martinique, we strive to deliver the most authentic experience for the mindful drinker.” To my knowledge ISH is the only offering publicly claiming to dealcoholize actual rum which, in my opinion, is pretty cool.

The nose is, in my opinion, less cool. Though it does come across as funky-fruity in a way that totally convinces me some pot still Jamaican rum was involved, there’s a latex-y chemical scent that makes it very clear this isn’t straight out of Worthy Park or Hampden Estate. There’s also a bubble gum note that’s just a touch to strong to register as naturally rummy. The palate is a bit acidic, a bit sweet, and a bit bitter with herbal and floral notes leading into a capsaicin-like burn at the back of the mouth (they do us the favor of calling out capsicum extract in the ingredient list). The moderate-light finish is mostly bitter, with a whiff of pineapple.

In our blind taste test ISH Caribbean Spiced Spirit scored decently as a neat sipper (6.8/10) and great mixed into a daiquiri (8.1/10). Straight in a snifter ISH wasn’t really my cup of tea, though by their own admission it’s “not intended to be enjoyed neat”. Zero proof is a game of tradeoffs, and given one of my biggest gripes in general is lack of flavor strength, I appreciate the choice to optimize they way they did. This is one of your better options for adding a funky kick to a rum focused cocktail.

The Superficial: While not particularly eye-catching, the label looks nice and feels nice. The bottle and wooden stopper both feel quality. My biggest gripe is that it comes in a 500ml bottle rather than a standard 700ml or 750ml.

A year ago when we did our first zero proof blind taste test, Seir Hill Biscane was the one rum I ordered that didn’t arrive on time to be included. When it did arrive, it was a mess of soggy cardboard and shattered glass. Because of this it’s kind of been my zero proof white whale. In hindsight it may have been a victim of high expectations.

The nose is reasonably strong, unfortunately it’s not particularly pleasant. Chocolate, stale coffee, cola, and citrus battle it out in a presentation that smells both medicinal and artificial. The palate is a bit more enjoyable, though the absence of a lot of the notes from the nose feels discordant; the citrus is still there with a distinct acidity, and then there’s a faint bit of coffee that a bit feels like you had a canned latte from a vending machine a couple hours ago. There’s a bit of a tingle and a bit of astringency. The finish is light, with a slight bitterness reminiscent of something vaguely herbal.

In our blind taste test Seir Hill Biscane scored okay as a neat sipper (6.6/10) and pretty good mixed into a daiquiri (7.7/10). What Seir Hill is trying here doesn’t quite work for me, but they are trying and the profile presents and generally “rum-coded”. Given that, and that it avoids leaning too much into acidity or simulated alcohol burn, you could do worse.

The Superficial: The label has a reasonably nice design, but the label itself has a plastic coating which, while I’m sure is great for water resistance, feels a bit cheap. The stopper is a sort of black plastic with a synthetic cork which is functional, and nicer than a screw top if not gorgeous.