Gin is a cabaret, old chum

One of the last things I remember doing just before lockdown was a trip to the launch of Hendrick’s Lunar Gin with David T. Smith. This expression was more spicily floral than regular Hendrick’s and apparently had lavender essential oil in it. More recently, Mr Smith passed me the remains of a bottle of Hendrick’s latest offering, the Grand Cabaret Gin.

As usual they aren’t very specific about what goes into it, though they call it “an indulgent creation infused with a sensuous cabaret of decadent stone fruit flavours and shimmies of sweet aromatic herbs. Inspired by a 17th-century fruity French experiment, where distilling mounds of stone fruit unexpectedly yielded a truly tasty potion sparked the imagination of our master distiller, Lesley Gracie, to experiment with that same sense of poetic extravagance.”

On the nose it is certainly fruity, though after pondering it a while I conclude that the fruit it most reminds me of is raspberries (which aren’t stone fruit, so who knows where that comes from), with a solid orangey citrus note too. On the palate it’s a bit sickly, but with a herbal dryness that holds these tendencies back a little. It’s certainly a gin underneath, but the fruitiness dominates.

Adding tonic seems to bring out the cucumber for which Hendrick’s is famous, plus something brambly. As G&Ts go it’s got quite a sherbet vibe to it. I try a Dry Martini using Belsazar Dry: this brings out a slight caramel note, but overall it’s not a match made in heaven. The dry, herbal quality of the vermouth actually seems to quarrel with the juicy-fruit character of the gin.

With this in mind, I try an Aviation (a proper one, made with both maraschino and crème de violette), wondering if the florality of that cocktail would work well with the gin. It certainly doesn’t not work, though surprisingly the gin slightly gets lost. Perhaps its defining character is being masked.

I usually try new gins in a Negroni too, though I suspected that the muscle of the vermouth and Campari would whup the gin good and proper. But in fact the raspberry note rises clear above the bitter-sweet melée, adding a distinct and wholly harmonious layer. This is without doubt the stand-out serve for the gin of the ones I tried. I makes a distinctly summery drink (and I say this having tried it in late January) and, now that it is quite summery here in the UK, one that I can heartily recommend you try.

Fit for a king: Buckingham Palace gins

We were at the King’s Gallery in London to look at the exhibition about Georgian fashion, and as we drifted out we were inexorably steered towards the gift shop, where I was interested to see they sold gin. The gallery is actually part of Buckingham Palace and the Buckingham Palace Dry Gin they had on offer uses 12 botanicals gathered from the gardens there, including lemon verbena, hawthorn berries and mulberry leaves.

Priced at a fairly stiff £40, the gin comes in a handsome fluted bottle with a rather understated label that might almost look laser-printed if it weren’t for the gold foil decorative border. Other than the three botanicals mentioned above, I can’t find any other details about what goes into it, but as soon as you open the bottle you get a joyous hit of juniper and citrus. This remains strong in the glass, with the mentholly juniper dominating, with a hint of candied violets and a sharp aromatic like lemon balm or lemon thyme (perhaps the lemon verbena), plus something earthy—maybe from angelica or orris.

On the palate those high, bright notes remain, but on a base that is warm and full, almost chocolatey. Perhaps it’s the contrast with the brisk nose, but the liquid gives a sense of smoothness and sweetness on the tongue, almost like icing sugar, although there is a slight bitterness on the finish. In a gin and tonic it is cool and sophisticated, with a traditional juniper and citrus profile augmented by a hint of cucumber. It’s still warm and smooth compared to some gins but with the bright, aromatic lift and a G&T is surely all about.

In a Dry Martini it has a classic profile, but that bitter finish is noticeable. I’m using Belsazar Dry vermouth which adds a note of vanilla, but the juniper and citrus of the gin cut through clearly. In a Negroni its presence is quiet: it benefits from upping the proportion of gin in the mix. Overall, I suspect the makers reckoned their target market would be mostly drinking it with tonic, and deployed in this way it works well. 

Overall, I rather like Buckingham Palace Dry Gin. It is very classic in style, but with some sophisticated flourishes. Which I suppose is what you would expect from the King’s gin.

While at the palace I noticed that they sold another gin, called Buckingham Palace Coronation Gin. Inevitably curiosity got the better of me and I decided to try this one too—fortunately they were selling it on Amazon, so I didn’t have to go back to Buck House to get some. Interestingly, although this also comes in a fluted bottle, it is a different design, with a larger number of narrower ridges. I would have thought there would be an economy of scale if they’d just used the same bottle with a different label…

The nose of Coronation Gin is immediately warmer, with less of the aromatic high notes of juniper and lemon, and more lower notes, reminiscent of rose, honey and cinnamon. On the palate it has the same initial smoothness but with more of a honeyed mouthfeel, and without the herbaceous, resinous high notes of the Buckingham Palace gin. 

With tonic water, it makes a darker G&T with an interesting whiff of toffee-mint on the nose. On the palate this is continued: it’s like a dark cupboard filled with toffee mints, candied geraniums, damson jam and marmalade. It’s less of a sharpener that a G&T made with the first gin—perhaps more of a late-night contemplative gin (just like Hendrick’s Lunar Gin, but without the added essential oils). 

I try a Martini made with the Coronation gin. (With both these gins I started with a ratio of 4:1 but, feeling that the vermouth dominated a bit too much, moved to 6:1.) While the nose is more about the midrange, the palate is savoury, almost salty, but with a somewhat candied finish. There is an odd hint of banana. 

Given the gin’s warm, spicy approach, I suspected it might work well in a Negroni, and it does, in the sense that it sits harmoniously with the vermouth and Campari. But to a certain extent it is lurking in the background rather than making firm friends.

As you can probably tell, I preferred the Buckingham Palace gin to the more spicy Coronation number. The former’s classic profile makes it eminently usable, but it has sophisticated nuances that give it certain class as well. Is it worth £40 a bottle? No, probably not, so I won’t be making it my go-to. But if money were no object, it would have many of the qualities you’d look for in a house gin. Particularly a house like Buckingham Palace.