Rocket Joe

What makes Rocket Joe structurally interesting is that it doesn't separate its two worlds. Most coffee fragrances treat sugar as a polite afterthought, a dusting of vanilla to round the edges. Rocket Joe drops bubble gum right into the middle of the espresso. The result is a synthetic-gourmand composition that reads less like a beverage and more like a memory of a candy counter next to a coffee bar. The smokiness in the accord list is what holds the sweetness from tipping into cloying. It is honest in its artificiality, the way the best gum and the best joe both are.

The evolution

Rocket Joe opens with a sugar rush of caramel and vanilla, the kind of sweetness that hits like a candy bar torn open on a long drive. The middle burns slow, smoky woods and roasted cocoa settling in like the rumble of an old engine idling at a roadside stop. As it dries down, the sweetness retreats and the warmth takes over, leaving a soft trail of amber and tonka that lingers like the memory of a good trip. It does not announce itself. It just shows up and stays.