Not only here for the beer: spirits from Adnams

Anyone with a still seems to be chucking out a gin at the moment, but I was surprised to hear recently that Adnams, brewers of fine Suffolk ales since 1872, had also now produced a range of vodkas and gins. I shouldn’t have been, really—their premium spirits are made from exactly the same grains as their beer, a mixture of locally sourced barley, wheat and oats. Even though they’ve had to have a still installed—a copper one, for they too subscribe to the cult of copper—it’s all part of the process. So are they bandwagon-jumping or do they have something to bring to the party?

Let’s start with Adnams Copper House Barley Vodka (40% ABV). It’s made from East Anglian malted barley, brewed into a wash at 6% ABV without hops, then distilled. They describe it as “beautifully smooth…with a natural sweetness”, but to me it has a keen nose with a hint of dry sherry. The palate does have cream, by comparison with mass-produced vodkas, but compared to other premium vodkas I’ve had recently it tends more towards fruit and minerals—this is a characterful drink. Indeed Adnams describe it as having “plenty of character from our handmade copper pot still”. I couldn’t say if that is where the flavours come from but if I line it up with some others I have to hand—SW4*, Sipsmith, Chase and Indiana—it seems to have oranges, grapes and even cherries going on. Sipsmith and SW4 are also made from barley but their styles are quite different. If you’re after a vodka that is all about creamy smoothness and nectar sweetness, then this probably isn’t the one for you, but my curiosity has been well and truly piqued.

Next up is Longshore, a vodka bottled at 48% ABV, made from the more complicated three-grain blend and a finer “cut”—taking just the choice middle section of the distillation batch. And what a difference it is. If the Copper House barley vodka has an edgy, fruity character, this vodka smells like a meringue, rich and sweet. But on the palate it still has a family resemblance to the first one—rather than the unctuous smoothness of Sipsmith it has a distinctly citrus-cream fruity flavour with hints of wood. It tastes like a wooden crate that was used to store oranges.

As a relative vodka novice I’ve been astonished by the variety of flavours you can get from this basic recipe. The Chase potato vodka, for instance is vinous on the nose with a smooth palate and a hint of pears. So what will we make of the third Adnams offering—North Cove Oak-Aged Vodka, a version of their Longshore that is bottled at 50% ABV after sitting in oak barrels? (The sample that I have spent a month in a mix of French and American oak though I’m told the production version will use just European barrels.) As soon as you stick your nose in the glass you really can smell the wood, and not just a general “woodiness” but actual sawn planks. Then comes the buttery, vanilla richness, familiar from oak-aged wine. Adnams suggest coconut too, and it is there, in a coconut-matting kind of way. On the palate again a strong wood character—probably too much for some—giving it an edge almost like red wine. You can imagine this vodka pairing well with food, such as smoked salmon; this, or perhaps the lighter vodkas, might be a good match with sushi.

To me this whole range has a striking fruit character. The oak-aged one has elements of prunes and marmalade, but even the basic barley vodka has it too. The next morning I smell all the empty tasting glasses and, while Indiana, SW4, Sipsmith and Chase have no residual aroma to speak of, all of the Adnams range do, especially the oak-aged, though less so the Longshore. When we tried them all together I got the impression that DBS was most keen on SW4, followed by Indiana and Sipsmith. I think they’re excellent too, but I have to say I’m taken by the forthright character of the Adnams range.

The family also includes two gins, the Distilled Gin made from the barley vodka and First Rate gin made from the Longshore vodka. The Distilled Gin has six botanicals, featuring sweet orange peel and hibiscus flower, plus juniper, cardamom, coriander seed and orris. This sweet, floral approach is very much of the moment. Berry Bros. No.3 gin is specifically intended for Martinis and also includes sweet orange peel in its spartan botanical list: I assume the sweetness is there to make it more palatable served more or less neat.

Certainly there is juniper and citrus straightaway and a pronounced floral aroma. I don’t really know what hibiscus tastes/smells of but here there is a sweetness and a hint of blackcurrants too. This perfumed character reminds me slightly of soap, though I guess that is more a comment on how we choose to fragrance our toiletries than on the gin. On the palate overall it’s again about sweet orange, flowers and also gingerbread. Plus a smidgen of geranium. Diluted by half with water, it maintains this character, though I get a whiff of strawberries too.

First Rate gin immediately contrasts by having more juniper on the nose. It has the same botanicals, minus the hibiscus, and adds caraway and fennel seeds, cassia, angelica, lemon peel, liquorice, thyme and vanilla. You do get a clear family resemblance: flowers, gingernut (interesting that there are no flowers in this one, and no ginger in either) and that stemmy geranium note. On the palate this persists, though it also has more alcohol, plus the smooth, creamy character of the underlying vodka. Watered by half, I also get a dry aromatic perfume like lavender, which must come from the thyme and perhaps the seeds.

Comparing these two with SW4 gin, you realise how much more the latter is characterised by mid-range spice notes of coriander, cinnamon, cassia and maybe nutmeg, compared to the floral characters on display here. Oddly I am reminded of the G’Vine range, which is also all about flowers (vine flowers in their case), sweetness and with a strong ginger note. They too have a lower ABV version and a higher ABV one with a sterner, more junipery mix: I assume the basic idea here is to have a sweet, floral, approachable version marketed at people who basically are put off by traditional gin’s austerity, plus a more juniper-driven one for people who do actually like gin.

Both the Adnams gins are comfortable with tonic at 2:1. Again the Distilled is sweet and floral while the First Rate brings in a steely note of juniper and the sharp aromatics of the spices and resinous thyme. Adnams themselves feel both gins work well with tonic or as Martinis, and benefit from lime garnishes, adding that First Rate is also “stunning with a strip of cucumber”.

Personally I prefer the First Rate, because I like a drier, more pokey spirit, but I think both are well made, intriguingly complex products. They’re not cheap, mind—and with both First Rate and Longshore the more pernickety distillation method cranks up the price further. Adnams Copper House Barley Vodka is £22.99 for 70cl; the Longshore Vodka is £23.99 for 50cl; the North Cove Oak Aged Vodka is £25.99 for 50cl; the Distilled Gin is £23.99 for 70cl and the First Rate Gin is £24.99 for 50cl. All may be purchased directly from Adnams’ website.

* This vodka doesn't really have a name yet. On the Park Place Drinks site it is called Radost but it hasn't actually been brought to market yet. Perhaps you can email Martin your suggestions for a name?

Bringing it all back home III: Prohibition Gin

A couple of weeks ago I found myself in possession of the country’s only bottle of a new gin from Heartland Distillers, makers of Indiana vodka. It’s called Prohibition. I think the name comes from maker Stuart Hobson’s belief that Prohibition pretty much killed off the rich distilling tradition in his state, a tradition that he is manfully trying to revivify. It doesn’t hurt that all things Prohibition- and speakeasy-related seem suddenly in vogue, perhaps thanks to Boardwalk Empire, creating a new “Mad Men effect”. (Not that I’m one to talk.)

So is this authentic bathtub gin, taking crude alcohol and trying to mask the roughness with juniper essence (a roughness that is often attributed with boosting the whole cocktail tradition, as bartenders added emollient ingredients to make the underlying spirit palatable)? Not a bit of it. Stuart takes his super-smooth, award-winning, sextuple-distilled vodka and in the last distillation adds his botanicals in a Carter Head style flavour-box, through which the vapours pass. “This vessel is packed with the fresh botanicals in a specific manner to obtain the flavor profile we desire,” Stuart explains.

I was under the impression that this tends to create a lighter style of gin than a pot still process where the botanicals are actually macerated in the spirit before distillation, but Stuart says, “I would characterise our gin as a full flavour gin. We’ve broadened the flavour profile so you can taste all of the botanicals we use. Many gins boast of all their botanicals, but when you taste them all you get is the juniper. With Prohibition Gin all of the botanical flavours are present. The use of fresh botanicals produces a clean fresh mouth feel.”

So it’s not a juniper-led gin. One sniff of the bottle—a powerful whiff of curry powder to me—and you realise we are in the same territory as Aviation, made by Ryan Magarian in Portland, Oregon. Ryan even has a name for his non-juniper-led school, “New Western Gins”. To me Aviation has powerful savoury elements, with lots of coriander. Prohibition is similar, but actually with more of a concession to juniper, plenty of citrus edge plus a very strong element of celery seed on the finish. It’s remarkably balanced, with citrus and cassia finding a place, and something like lavender on the palate; oddly I always get tomatoes, but I guess it’s just the Bloody Mary ingredients in the gin that get my juices flowing, plus the citrus. Doing a direct comparison you find that Aviation actually has a fattier and more biscuity nose and striking fennel notes.

Here I am tussling with Emma Stokes over the precious

bottle of Prohibition

“You are spot on with the flavour profile,” says Stuart—though he won’t actually reveal all the botanicals, only juniper, coriander, angelica root, cassia, licorice root and grains of paradise. “I like to tell people that this is not your grandfather’s gin, this is richer and fuller flavoured. I would be comfortable with it being thought of as a New Western Gin.”

But the interesting thing about this “new” gin that it actually very much is your grandfather’s, or rather Stuart’s grandfather’s. He says he came across the recipe in a nineteenth-century book on distilling techniques. This got me thinking: if it really represents an older style, does it shed any light on the ongoing debate about exactly what “Old Tom” gin—a style that was popular before London Dry Gin took over—actually tasted like? DBS and I are comparing the different theories and compiling samples of the different approaches to modern revival Old Tom styles for a future group test, but my eye was caught the other day by a mail-out from David Nathan-Maister. In addition to being a strong advocate for the Campaign for Real Absinthe, David also deals in vintage spirits, including the sorts of pre-ban absinthe upon analysis of which the new “authentic” absinthes are based, but also including old rums, bourbons and the odd gin.

This mail-out describes, among other jewels, a batch of gin distilled in or before 1913. Author Dave Hughes has tasted a sample and comments: “With time in the glass the citrus notes begin to take over while the mature herby character is always there. It would appear that coriander must have been a major component as it begins to show after a long while in the glass. All rests on a gentle supporting spice.” His reference to the strong coriander element reminded me of the New Western style.

Ted Breaux’s comments on this batch are: “The gin is much lighter than the typically juniper-heavy London-dry style that dominates today. It is far more like the lighter, sweeter Old Tom style that was popular in both the UK and the US toward the end of the nineteenth century, which was specified in many of the gin cocktails in the earliest bartender guides—cocktails that aren’t as enjoyable when overpowered by juniper. What is significant is that it is isn’t a ‘Holland gin’, with a malt wine base, but is an example of the newer style (for the period), which was based upon a redistillation of a neutral spirit—something not possible until after the invention of the multi-plate alembic in the 1830s.”

An Inhibition made at home

Some people believe that “Old Tom” does refer to a maltier Dutch style (you can create an impression by rinsing a glass with malt whisky then adding gin), others to something that is simply sugared, while Christian Jensen’s recreation aims for “sweetness” through the botanical balance rather than added sugar. But could it be that the New Western styles, with big flavours but less emphasis on juniper, might offer a clue? I intend to try using Aviation and Prohibition to make some of the old cocktails that specifically call for Old Tom (in books that also specify London gin or Plymouth gin in other recipes) and see how well they work.

I leave you, however, with a thoroughly modern cocktail dreamed up on the spot by Graphic barman Adam Smithson when I went in there with the precious bottle:

Inhibition
40ml Prohibition
5ml Coco Kanu coconut rum
10ml Creole Shrubb rum orange liqueur
25ml lime juice
20ml homemade chai syrup
Top with soda and garnish with a lime wedge

Stuart Hobson himself was delighted with this recipe when I sent it to him—possibly because, of course, the Indiana Infusions range includes a Chai Tea one. Using this instead, Stuart has posted a variant on the Prohibition Facebook page.

I knock up a version using what I have to hand: Prohibition gin, “Windward white rum with coconut” from Asda, Cointreau, lime juice and Indiana Chai Tea Infusion, and decide just to shake it and serve it straight up. If you can get the proportions right (the coconut in particular needs microbalancing) the result is fascinating. The coconut and lime are quite prominent, but work surprisingly well with the savoury spice elements too. I think I could become gently fascinated by Prohibition gin.

Bringing it all back home II: Indiana Infusions

Flavoured vodka is everywhere, to the extent that some of the more exotic gins out there could be more usefully described as flavoured vodkas (which, in a sense, of course they are), and are probably aimed at the same market.

As I mentioned in the last post, Indiana vodka produces a range of seven “infusions”. I haven’t tasted them all, but I managed to get my hands on their Chocolate Espresso, Cherry Vanilla and Chai Tea versions. (They also make Double Vanilla, Raspberry Citrus, Honey Lemon and Orange Cream.) Apparently, early on in the experimentation process they decided that adding a complementary flavour to the main one worked jolly well, and they do that with all apart from Double Vanilla.

Of course there is nothing wrong with adding flavours to a vodka or any other spirit—that’s essentially what making a cocktail is—but there is something rather suspect, rather tacky or cheesy about the idea. For reasons that are hard to explain I find myself in possession of a bottle of Absolut Raspberri: you just have to smell it to realise it has never been anywhere near a raspberry (or even a “raspberri”). The cough syrup smell is deeply synthetic.

I don’t know how Indiana’s Infusions are made—the labelling only refers to “flavors” rather than actual ingredients, which doesn’t bode well—but they, on the other hand, give more of an impression that they might have involved real food. In truth they feel like something middle class people have a splash of in their cappuccinos—whereas the Absolut one is like something given a candy flavour to make it more palatable to underage drinkers in the park.

Absolut Raspberri: the drink and the raspberries
had not met before the photoshoot

Cherry Vanilla The aroma is most strongly of marzipan. This suggests that real cherries were involved, because cherry stones do have an almond essence, in the same way that sloe stones give sloe gin an almond flavour. Tasting it, I’m rather surprised to find that it is sweetened, like a low-intensity liqueur. (Oddly the Absolut Raspberri, for all its candy flavouring, is unsweetened.) There are cherry elements in there too, but almond dominates. It’s like a liquid Bakewell tart. And also a good way to mask any cyanide you might want to offer a guest.

Chocolate Espresso A rather subtle nose: the first element that hits me is actually vodka, before cacao and coffee come in. Again it is sweetened, with the overall effect of a rather restrained Kahlua or crème de cacao.

Chai Tea A complex nose to this one, with black pepper hitting me first, then cinnamon. Nutmeg comes through on the palate as well (though there doesn’t seem to be any nutmeg in it—perhaps it’s the cardomom). It’s rather tasty, with a subtle flavour that invites you in rather than shouting at you.

So restrained are these that I do wonder what they are for. I give them to Mrs H. to taste without saying what they are. She thinks the Chai is like Becherovka (which does have a pronounced cinnamon note), can’t really place the Cherry Vanilla but thinks the Chocolate Espresso reminds her of Kirsch, which is interesting.

An early pack shot: I assume they dropped the "IV" idea for fear that
people would actually try to administer it intravenously

The Infusions site has some cocktail recipes: it suggests mixing 1 shot of the Chai Tea with an unspecified amount of egg nog. I’ve got some Advocaat in the fridge so I try it with that—if you mix 2–3 parts Chai vodka with 1 part Advocaat it does work quite well. Despite the sugar in the Infusion it dries out the Advocaat relatively speaking. “Vodka custard,” was all Mrs H. had to say on the subject. I myself don’t have a sweet tooth so I find myself wanting to mix the Chai Tea Infusion with something dry like unsweetened apple juice, where its mincemeat flavours should marry well. The Infusions site does suggest Chai vodka with Apple Schnapps.

I attempt to make a subtle Chocolate Martini using the Chocolate Espresso Infusion. At 3 parts SW4 gin to 1 part Infusion it’s still pretty subtle. At 3:1½ it comes through, though it’s now a bit sweet for me. I suspect I might get more joy from Mozart Dry, which is more chocolately yet bone dry.

One other cocktail they suggest for which I have the ingredients is the Tipsy Shirley, a distinctly unmasculine combination of 1½ parts Cherry Vanilla Infusion, 4 parts ginger ale and a splash of grenadine. It’s not bad but for me still a bit cloying. I try it without the grenadine and it is greatly improved—the cherry/almond flavour of the vodka works rather interestingly with the ginger. The drink just looks like pale ginger ale, so perhaps the grenadine was just there to make it the colour you expect from the taste. But I notice that, with a lot of the cocktails they recommend, the flavour of the infusion is reinforced by some other ingredient—all the Chocolate Espresso Infusion recipes have added chocolate or coffee liqueur; the Sara Soda has Orange Cream Infusion and orange soda; the Lemon Drop Martini has Honey Lemon Infusion with lemon juice and sugar, etc. It seems to defeat the object a bit, and suggests a lack of confidence in the infusions themselves.

Personally I think that the subtlety of these infusions, and the interesting flavour pairings in each one gives them good scope for grown-up mixology ideas, though I do wish they hadn’t added the sugar…

Indiana vodka: bringing it all back home

Given that, on paper, vodka is just alcohol and water, the continuing release of new brands—each claiming to be the vodka you’ve always wanted—could reasonably strike you as little more than marketing exercises. They tend to focus on authenticity, honesty, heritage and “purity” rather than coming out and saying “Hey, this tastes really good.” Perhaps they’re just afraid that to the typical punter they all just taste like, you know, vodka.

I’ve not spent much time tasting vodkas (unlike DBS who, I discovered recently, used to be quite a connoisseur before he got into gin) so I was actually quite struck by the differences when we lined up half a dozen vodkas recently (more of which anon). One of those was Indiana vodka from Heartland Distillers in Indianapolis, Indiana. It is not yet commercially available in the UK but I was lucky enough to get a sample from Bar Spirits who will be distributing it.

Heartland is actually the first new distillery in Indiana since Prohibition, and founder Stuart Hobson believes that Prohibition pretty much killed off the state’s distilling tradition. He seems to be driven by local pride as much as anything, making a point of sourcing his raw materials locally, as well as a desire to make something artisanal and old-school. All the bottling and labelling are done by hand, he says—each bottleneck is even hand-dipped in wax.

Many vodkas boast that their spirits are “tripled distilled” or “four times distilled”, but Heartland ups the ante by distilling Indiana six times. It is distilled and redistilled in batches, and each time they discard the “head” (the first distillate to emerge, which contains impurities you don’t want) and the low-alcohol “tail” (at the end of the distillation) keeping only the “heart”, thus gradually filtering the less desirable bits of the spectrum.

Like Sipsmith, they believe copper stills are best (in fact their still was made by the same Bavarian company as Sipsmith’s, Christian Carl), and that the copper reacts with the spirit to remove certain impurities such as sulphites.

Indiana is made from corn and maize, which Hobson believes produces a smoother and lighter flavour, with a sweeter finish, than vodkas made from wheat or potato. Just think, he says, how much tastier corn on the cob is compared to bread or mashed potato. Hmm. I don’t know that this argument holds much water, but there’s no doubting that Indiana is cracking vodka. It’s a lot like Sipsmith, in fact, in that it is smooth, sweet and creamy (a characteristic that Sipsmith attribute to their vodka’s being made from barley—not corn). It’s also remarkably fruity.

I have some Sipsmith to hand, so how do they compare? The Sipsmith has a much softer nose, with less of the fruitiness of Indiana, and its palate is dominated by a smooth unctuousness. I’ve also got a mini of Chase potato vodka: this is fruitier again on the nose, almost vinous, but the palate is quite buttery, hinting at ice cream. Chase somehow tickles the sour-receptors of the tongue without actually tasting sour, whereas Sipsmith bats its eyelids at your sweetness-receptors*. Compared to both, Indiana actually seems quite dry.

The only vodka I have to hand that I think may be made from wheat** is Smirnoff Red. It’s probably an unfair comparison, but I try the Smirnoff alongside. It seems to have no nose at all—and no taste***, only a little burning at the back of the throat to let you know it was there.

Clearly vodkas are not created equal. But I’m not convinced that any particular grain is the bee’s knees. I wouldn’t say that Indiana, the only corn/maize vodka I have knowingly tried, is superior to Chase potato vodka or Sipsmith barley vodka****. But it’s certainly good.

Matt Ford from Bar Spirits tells me the retail price of Indiana will be £23–26 when it gets here around 28th March. From their vodka Heartland make a range of seven infused versions as well as a gin they call Prohibition, which I will tell you about very shortly.


* Apparently we were lied to in school and the tongue does not have specific zones for different tastes. Which must be a bit embarrassing for high-end drinks glass merchant Reidel who used the “tongue map” as justification for their vast range of specific vessels for every conceivable alcoholic drink. Well, I don’t suppose they do one for Thunderbird or WKD, but they do an awful lot and they tend to be very expensive.
** Actually it's hard to know what it is made from. I heard a rumour that it was made from molasses spirit, as a lot of European volume vodka apparently is, but the Diageo PR I spoke to insisted it is "grain"-based. This website aimed at those with food allergies offers a list that gives Smirnoff as corn-based, something I've seen elsewhere. Yet another site suggests that in its original form it was made from wheat and rye, which I think is quite traditional, but that under Diageo it can be made from all manner of grain and non-grain spirits. Neither Smirnoff's nor Diageo's sites tell you anything.
*** Amusing, in 1938 Smirnoff was (quite successfully) marketed by one distributor in Kentucky as "White whiskey—no taste, no smell".
**** Martin Price, the man behind SW4, also has a vodka up his sleeve, as it were. It has not been brought to market yet, so I don’t even know what it will be called, but it is also made from barley. It’s jolly good, but it is different from Sipsmith, with saltier, edgier style.