Locksley gin: the taste of Lincoln Green?

On the way back from Scotland we broke our journey for Mrs H. to attend a get-together of seashell collectors at the Chatsworth estate in Derbyshire. I found myself with a bit of time to kill and wandered over to the Big House. And by big I mean BIG. The home of the Dukes of Devonshire for 16 generations, the estate’s 20th-century history has been characterised by each generation’s struggle to pay inheritance taxes (up to 80% of the value of all property), and like many such country houses it is today a well-oiled tourism machine.

In addition to several eateries on site, I found a gin bar in the courtyard, featuring a number of local gins, including Sheffield Gin from the True North Brew Co. and Shining Cliff Gin from the White Peak Distillery (which I keep calling Shining Path Gin, probably not the image they were trying to present). But the one I chose to try was Sir Robin of Locksley, from the Locksley Distilling Company, named after the region’s famous son who would go on to great things as Robin Hood.

Chatsworth House, a modest country get-away

They describe the gin as featuring traditional botanicals (juniper, coriander, cassia, angelica, liquorice) plus elderflower, dandelion and grapefruit—the elderflower gathered Lincolnshire and the dandelion from Yorkshire. Their intention was to create a “sipping gin” that fell somewhere between a London Dry and an Old Tom. The finished recipe was apparently their 61st attempt. They refer to it as “one of the very few (if not only) true English sipping gins”—which I think other producers would dispute. The term “sipping gin” may be a neologism, but it already seems pretty widely embraced (Tom, from TOAD, for example, told me he feels their Physic Garden gin is best drunk neat).

The bottle features a rather overworked letter R, filled with images of oak leaves and acorns, dandelions and other plants, a feather, a bow and arrow, a stag, a bit of a castle and other medieval-looking fol-de-rols—like the daydream doodle resulting from a long and unengaging teleconference. The inside of the back label is green, suffusing the contents with a verdant glow—I briefly wondered if the liquid itself was coloured but it is not. An online search for bottle images mostly shows a plain glass vessel, but my one features a nest of embossed heraldry at the bottom, including a crown, bees, suns/stars and leaves, perhaps dandelions plants. To emphasise the handmade, “artisanal” credentials, each bottle is signed and hand-numbered by distiller John Cherry.

Uncorking the bottle I’m relieved to be hit initially by juniper, followed by a powerful orange and lime citrus notes, sweet like Opal Fruits/Starburst (not overtly grapefruit per se, but this may be where it is coming from). But then there is something strongly herbal too. This note is hard to pin down (and may ultimately come from the dandelion, though I don’t really know what dandelion tastes like) but it is a defining quality in this gin, however you serve it—perhaps I should dub this flavour “Lincoln green”. Given the nose, tasted neat it is surprisingly savoury, with something like cucumber peel or plant stems going on. But then a perceived sweetness does appear, and it is certainly smooth and mellow on the tongue. Whether you find this quality makes for easy drinking or gets a bit cloying will be a matter of taste, but it did start to suggest crystallised fruit and flowers.

It makes a smooth Martini, with a suggestion of fresh mint and the sweet/savoury herbal element again. It’s not a hugely powerful gin, in terms either of alcohol (40.5% ABV) or flavour, something which became clear when I tried making cocktails with it. With an Aviation or a Corpse Reviver No.2 I had the opposite experience from when I recently used the two Cornish Navy strength gins—Sir Robin gin is easily masked by other ingredients, and in both cocktails I found you had to at least double the specified quantity of gin before you could really tell it was there. With the Corpse Reviver you can get to a reasonable balance but with the Aviation I’m not sure it ever really made its presence felt.

But then they do say it’s intended as a sipping gin. Is it a good sipping gin? I confess it will never be my favourite, but there is something intriguing here and I’ve not had anything that tastes quite the same. For me it is probably a bit too cloying neat, though—I think I prefer it in a G&T, where its savoury, herbal stripe seems to add a refreshing quality.

I see that Locksley also make another hybrid, a Navy Strength Old Tom—see the last post for my thoughts on Navy strength gin—which, like the Navy strengths from Trevethan and Tarquin’s, might fare better in cocktails. They even do a version of the Navy Strength Old Tom that has been aged in a Sauternes barrel.

Sir Robin of Locksley Distilled Artisan Gin can be bought for about £38.

Hernö: like gin, but more so

A rare bottle of Hernö Juniper Cask Gin, with a cask in the
background (the real ones are much bigger)

I went to the launch of a new gin on Monday, from Hernö in Sweden, proudly the northernmost distillery in the world (is this good?). Mrs H. rolled her eyes when she heard. “Another gin?” she said. “Surely we’re all ginned out now?”

It certainly seems that each new gin must have to fight its corner to get noticed, but what we’re also seeing is exploration into new types of gin. Not very long ago few people would have heard of Old Tom gin, the sweeter style that predated London Dry, but launching your own version seems to be the latest fad. Then there is navy strength* gin, with several of those launching recently. And also aged gin.

The gin we were launching on Monday, at the bijou Charlotte’s Bistro in Chiswick, fell into this last category. Hernö take their normal gin blend and age it, for just 30 days, in barrels made, not from oak as might be normal, but from juniper wood.

I’d not had the pleasure of sampling Hernö gin before. Their standard product, Swedish Excellence, comes in at 40.5% ABV. In their own 250-litre copper pot still at their distillery in the village of Dala near Härnösand, they distil it twice (presumably starting with commercial neutral spirit), first to make a vodka, getting the character from the interaction with the copper, then the second time to make the gin. Before this second distillation the botanicals are macerated, for varying amounts of time. The juniper and coriander are in there for 18 hours, but the fresh lemon peel, which master distiller Jon Hillgren explains he cuts himself from lemons bought at the local shop, is added just before distilling. The botanicals, which are all organic, also include cassia bark, black peppercorns, meadowsweet, lingonberries and vanilla.

DBS enjoying some Hernö. He's also a
fan—in fact they quote his tasting notes
in their brochure and on the website

I like a gin that fundamentally tastes of gin, and I’m immediately taken by Hernö. Big, aromatic juniper hits you first and bright, fresh citrus, but you can also clearly pick out the cassia and black pepper. It seems stronger than 40.5%, perhaps because the pepper gives a subtle bite.

There is also a Hernö Navy Strength, which is exactly the same gin but bottled at 57% (the water for dilution comes from their own well and there is no chill-filtering), and I’m even more taken by it. At this strength the vanilla comes through more strongly but you can still pick out the other ingredients; the residue in an empty glass develops a strong cassia character. Somehow they have made a very elegant gin, with some modern twists to an essentially classic profile. Where other gins might throw many more botanicals at the problem (or maybe fewer) and end up with a homogenised, one-dimensional taste, Hernö doesn’t take the flavour profile in any terribly whacky directions, but somehow manages to have a 3D vividness to the flavours that are there, yet deft and polished, without any sharp edges. It is gin, but more so.

So what of the aged gin we are here to launch, Hernö Juniper Cask Gin? The idea of wood-aged gin may well have caught on as an adjunct to the search for the true nature of Old Tom. All we really know about the latter is that it was sweeter than London Dry, most likely to mask the roughness of the underlying spirit in the days before the invention of the column still made relatively pure alcohol easy to achieve. Some assume that Old Tom was simply sugared, others believe the perceived “sweetness” came from a heavier, spicier botanicals, such as liquorice. Some have suggested that the barrels used to store and transport the spirit before the 1861 Single Bottle Act would have affected the flavour—and indeed ageing in wood has long been a way of softening and adding complexity to spirit (the whisky industry is based on it, and Seagram’s gin in the US has always been rested in oak barrels for three to four weeks before bottling).

You can see how the gin has soaked through
the wood of the barrel

Most wood-aged spirit has spent some time sitting in oak barrels, which imparts a classic vanilla/butter flavour. But Hernö, which is pretty juniper-led to start with, instead gets to sit in barrels made from juniper wood. Jon explains that none of the available juniper trees in Sweden was big enough to produce planks more than a couple of inches wide, so the timber was imported from the US and made into barrels by Sweden’s only cooper. Jon admits that juniper wood is not really ideal for storing liquids, as the contents seep through to the outside. The wood exudes a resinous sap which can be clearly smelled.**

After just 30 days the gin has a pronounced yellow colour. But instead of plump, creamy oak character, you get enhanced high notes, a fresh resinous zing and a bright fruitiness. The juniper presence borders on the menthol-like but that just-peeled lemon element still comes through too, along with something floral and a hint of anise. On the palate it does not seem as dramatically changed as it does on the nose, but it is instructive to compare the cask gin side by side with the navy strength. The balance with the latter seems to favour the warm spice notes more, meaning that ironically it comes across as “woodier” than the wood-aged version.

Add tonic water to the cask gin and a sweet, clover-like floral note emerges (perhaps this is meadowsweet?). It’s a great combo, though I find it needs a bit more tonic than usual to achieve a comfortable balance. Likewise it makes a fascinating Martini, but again it seems to want a fairly a “wet”mix of about two parts gin to one part vermouth. With its pokey, piney juniper thrust, the cask gin also stands its ground easily in a Negroni, which I think is essential in this in this gutsy combination.

Hernö gins, as with any other boutique product, are not cheap: the Swedish Excellence is about £30 for 50cl, and you’ll be lucky to find Navy Strength or Cask Gin at all. But do seek it out. There is something rather life-affirming about the way they have passionately reinvented flavours we think we are so familiar with.

And the Cask Gin comes with a cap of beeswax that Jon obtains from a neighbouring beekeeper and hand dips himself.

* About 57% alcohol by volume, the point at which, if you splash some on to gunpowder, the powder can still be ignited. Rum which could pass this test was said to be “proof”, hence the old measurement of “degrees proof” as a way of indicating alcoholic strength, where 100 degrees is this tipping point. Hence “overproof” rum that is stronger than this.
** Jon confirms that in time they will experiment with reusing the barrels, perhaps creating distinct “second fill” and “third fill” editions.

Group test: 10 Old Tom gins compared

Some of the Old Tom gins we tasted, including a couple of homemade recreations

Many of us can’t help but be fascinated by Old Tom. What we know is that it is an older form of gin than the “London Dry Gin” style that most of us probably consider “normal” and which took over from about 1940. Cocktail books from the 1920s and 1930s will sometimes specify Old Tom gin as opposed to London gin or Plymouth gin, or indeed Holland(s) gin (i.e. genever).

But what did it taste like? In his cocktail book of 1930 “Jimmy” (“late of Ciro’s”) explains “the difference between Dry and Old Tom Gin is the same as between Dry and Sweet Ginger Ale, that is to say one is bitter and one is sweet. Plymouth Gin is half way between the two.” Mind you, Jimmy also says that grenadine is made from raspberries. (Who knows, perhaps it was then…)

A number of manufacturers are increasingly releasing Old Tom style gins, but there is plenty of dispute over what these should taste like. Some are simply sweetened with sugar, while Christian Jensen insists that this would have been too expensive at the time and that any perceived sweetness would have come from the botanical mix. (Others have argued that landlords may have sweetened gin on the premises, perhaps to ameliorate poor quality gin, and that it was therefore unlikely that the gin would have been sweetened by the manufacturer.) David Wondrich is of the opinion that Old Tom is a general term for something that would have evolved and diverged, fundamentally driven by the fact that before the introduction of the column still, capable of producing very pure “neutral” spirit, the base alcohol for early gins would have been crude and distinctly flavoured—indeed much of the botanical flavouring might have been there simply to try and make the spirit more palatable, as might any sweetening or deliberate ageing in wood (something which lies at the heart of whisky making). But the column still signalled a paradigm shift: masking of the base spirit flavour became unnecessary, botanicals could be used simply to add a desired flavour profile and gins became leaner. Genever, meanwhile, remained popular in the Netherlands, revelling in the malty taste of the “impurities” of the pot still alcohol itself.

Kamil looking pale after ten Old Toms

With the interests of the gin-drinking public always our prime concern, the Institute decided to round up all the modern Old Tom gins we could find—ten in total—and have a comparative tasting, both neat and in a classic cocktails. This wouldn’t really help prove what Old Tom did or should taste like: it was more about assessing what is on offer now. Joining us at Graphic was Desmond Payne, Master Distiller at Beefeater, plus Adam and Kamil from the bar. This is what we found (the marks out of ten are my own):

1. Both’s Old Tom Gin (47% ABV) Made in Germany, this spirit is intended as a reproduction of nineteenth-century Old Tom and sports a rather disturbing “flock” label featuring a cat. (One explanation for the name “Old Tom” comes from the story of Dudley Bradstreet, an exciseman who actually sold gin on the sly. On the outside wall of his house was a cat figure; the customer would put money in the cat’s mouth, at which gin was dispensed through a tube between the cat’s paws.) The nose is strongly of caraway and orange. That’s pretty much it, with the palate basically the same, with a middling sweetness. I rather like it, but then I like Akvavit. 8/10.

2. The Wondrich Method Wondrich’s own solution for recreating the taste of Old Tom is to blend modern gin with sugar and whisky. DBS made this sample using the roughest gin he could find, Richmond Gin. I can see the logic, but you’re unlikely to make a very nice concoction this way! This sample has a nose of orange and a bit of red berry; it’s a slightly dusty smell and rather synthetic like a perfumed hand-wipe. The taste is overwhelmingly sweet, again a bit berryish, and reminiscent of barley sugars. Not as noticeably malty as I would have expected, but I guess it depends on the proportions you use—DBS didn’t reveal his precise recipe. 3/10

3. Ransom Old Tom Gin (44% ABV) Made in Oregon—in consultation with Wondrich—this recreation goes down a very woody route, ageing the gin for 3–6 months in pinot noir barrels. Malted barley is used to give a whiskyish hint, combined with botanicals (juniper, orange peel, lemon peel, coriander seed, angelica root and cardamom) infused in corn spirit. The finished gin is a startling colour, looking more like whisky. The nose is strong and astringent, with heavy juniper grappling with orange and an underlying resinous hint like coal tar. Compared to the other samples this one was surprising also in that it was quite dry and austere, driven by pencil-lead juniper. 5/10

4. Secret Treasures Old Tom Style Gin, 2007 (40% ABV) Another German offering, part of Haromex’s Secret Treasures Collection, this sample was made in 2007. The nose is quite balanced between juniper, citrus, fennel and something slightly soapy, then finishing on vanilla and darker notes. There are interesting hints of cucumber skin and mushroom too. The palate is, like Ransom, surprisingly dry and, to me, disappointingly simplistic after that promising nose. Predominantly juniper/pine notes. 4/10

5. Wondrich Method (Oaked) Another batch cooked up by DBS following David Wondrich’s suggestion of adding whisky and sugar to London gin, but this time “oak aged” using whisky barrel wood chips in the bottle for 24 hours. As before this offering probably suffers from the poor quality of the base gin but the wood has smoothed it a bit. The nose is predominantly orange with a distinct butter undertow. The palate is still mostly about barley sugar; the oaking is subtle after only 24 hours but certainly not out of place, and adds a piney, resinous note. 3/10

6. Jensen’s Old Tom Gin (43% ABV) The nose has a soft, vegetal complexity, like ratatouille—sweet pepper and fennel, with darker, toasty wood notes, plus orange, lime and a sugary smell. This carries on to the palate but here there is also an odd character like the glue on envelopes, a sort of cellulose sweetness (if you’ve ever made the mistake of trying to use a kitchen paper towel as a makeshift filter for food or coffee you’ll know what I mean). There is a “thickness” to this gin, as if it were heavily sugared, even though Jensen’s principle is that it is the botanical mix that creates the sweetness rather than sugar. Having said that, it does not come across as particularly sweet. This gin is apparently based on a recipe from the 1840s. 6/10

7. Gin Xorigeur (38% ABV) An antediluvian curio, made on Menorca in the town of Mahon, where it was introduced by the British in the eighteenth century, and allegedly little changed since then. It is made from grape spirit, vapour-infused with the botanicals in a flavour box rather than macerating in the spirit, and aged in American oak barrels before bottling. Oddly, instead of producing a high ABV distillate which is then diluted for bottling, the liquid added to the still is actually a blend of spirit, wine and water, and what emerges is at bottling strength of 38%. In addition to juniper, citrus and fennel, it has a similar sawmill nose to Ransom, plus celery, something toasty, a sour spicy note and something akin to the inside of a rubber glove. The palate is dry, vinous and juniper-led, with celery and sweet pepper. It is perfumed and spiritous, rather than full-bodied (possibly because the botanicals are not macerated), finishing on juniper again. Desmond was clearly quite struck by this one and felt it probably came closest to historical Old Tom. 6/10

8. The Dorchester Old Tom, 2007 (40% ABV) Only available at the Dorchester Hotel, for whom it is made by William Grant (who also make Hendrick’s) so their barmen can make classic cocktails that call for Old Tom. The nose is big: lots of orange and (perhaps unsurprisingly, given the Hendrick’s connection) masses of rose, plus woody spice—cinnamon, or perhaps sandalwood or even camphor wood. The palate is heavy and seductive with any perceived sweetness coming from rose. Add water and an aroma of tonic water emerges, presumably from citrus notes coming out. 8.5/10

9. Hayman’s Old Tom Gin (40% ABV) Made allegedly to an ancestral recipe of James Borough, ancestor of Christopher Hayman, the current Master Distiller. The nose is strongly of orange, almost like curaçao, plus juniper and a little chocolate. The palate, to me, is rather middle-of-the road, with the usual juniper and citrus, plus a lot of added sugar. Doesn’t do much for me. 5/10

10. Artesian Bar Old Tom, The Langham Hotel This is made specially at the hotel by blending two gins, adding some nuts and then wood ageing it. It does indeed smell of hazelnuts but also something sour, suggesting the dryness of walnuts too. Plus a bit of wood and bran—like opening a packet of bran flakes. It tastes a little of tea and hazelnuts. And a bit like bran flakes. 5/10

As a group we all agreed the Dorchester Old Tom was the nicest. For me the other stand-out gin was the Both’s; it came third in our overall rankings as a group, with the Xorigeur in second place. Hayman’s came fourth and the Langham gin fifth.

Martinez Cocktails made with (left to right) Xoriguer, Dorchester and Both's

We then tried the top three in three classic Old Tom cocktails:

Collins (gin, lemon juice, sugar and soda water) With the Both’s elements of fennel and violets come out; with the Dorchester it’s lemon and lime. Made with Xoriguer that pine flavour comes through, reminiscent of Retsina.

Martinez (gin, red vermouth, maraschino, Angostura bitters) The sweetness level of Both’s balances well for me and brings out the complex flavours, whereas the Dorchester here seems too sweet and fruity. The Retsina quality of the Xoriguer works surprisingly harmoniously with the aromatic elements of the vermouth and the bitters.

Old Tom Cocktail (gin, sugar, orange bitters) Here again I think the Xoriguer actually works best, with the astringent, woody, aromatic character balancing with the sweetness of the recipe. Both’s is pretty good, with the drink again bringing out a floral, violet character that I didn’t really notice neat. But overall this cocktail is too sweet for me, I suspect.

While satisfyingly thorough, I admit that this experiment doesn’t really get you very far: my two favourites are both largely unobtainable! I wasn’t so taken with the Xoriguer as some, but I know David later experimented with sweetening it and ageing it with wood chips to try and approach what he feels historical Old Tom would have been like. Of course there are clearly as many approaches to creating an Old Tom as there are products, and doubtless more besides. Personally I feel a product that is simply a sweeter gin is a bit pointless when you can simply sweeten an ordinary gin. I’m more interested in recipes that offer a different and more intense botanical mix. As I mentioned before, my curiosity was piqued when I heard that Prohibition gin is based on a nineteenth-century recipe: yet its maker thinks of it more as a New Western rather than an Old Tom. New Western gins in classic London gin cocktails often taste rather peculiar to me, but this got me thinking that experimenting with New Westerns in place of Old Toms in classic cocktail recipes might prove fruitful. I shall report back…

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.

Update from the Lab #2

Update from the Lab #2 – Old Tom and Forbidden Fruit

As promised in the last lab update, I shall be looking at making Old Tom Gin. This is by no means the last word on the subject and I know my fellow drinksmiths at the Institute are keen to look at this in greater depth.

My idea stems from a conversation we had with Tony at 69 Colebrook Row who mentioned that drinks expert David Wondrich suggested creating Old Tom gin by rinsing a glass with Scotch whisky, adding gin and sugar syrup and then using that to make your drink; a cocktail within a cocktail, you might say.

I scaled this up to make half a bottle's worth; I have another experiment coming up where I will need large quantities of Old Tom so being able to produce a substitute will be useful.

I added a small amount of whisky to gin and cane sugar I then gently warmed this until the sugar had dissolved and then cooled, strained and bottled the result.

The Taste: the sugar gives the gin a silky smooth quality (as you may expect) making it much more sippable. The whisky seems to tweak the flavour a little bit and certainly colours the gin a light gold. The juniper still comes through in the middle and at the extreme finish is a flavour akin to violet. This is a sweet gin and does resemble some of the other sweetened Old Tom gins in a basic way. Another work in progress but the work will be fun.

Forbidden Fruit

Not content with telling our lab observers merely about Old Tom gin, I decided to recreate a drink known as the Forbidden Fruit which appears in Louis' mixed Drinks (1906) under "Miscellaneous Drinks" see recipe below:

My first issue was that I had misremembered that the recipe calls for a grapefruit and went out and bought a melon, still we had a nice breakfast and starter for our dinner. Having obtained the right fruit I followed the recipe.

The result was a drink with an interesting temperature range, hot at the top and warm at the bottom. Mrs. B described it as a "serious drink which was also sweet and fruity". It was surprisingly smooth and rather drinkable, even to a non-brandy drinker like Mrs B. The grapefruit oil from the skin of the fruit mixed well with the burnt sugar and brandy and reminded me of a similar effect made from flaming orange, particularly nice (I'm told) over a Negroni.

This drink does involve fire so please make sure you take full safety precautions before making this drink, I used glove and apron and as you can see did it over the sink.