Distilled in weather.
Seven botanicals gathered off one grey coast, distilled on the days the fog sits down. Clear glass, because the weather is the label.
BULLETIN ISSUED 06:00 · NEXT AT 18:00
Coastal dry gin · 43% · one still, one shore
Seven botanicals gathered off one grey coast, distilled on the days the fog sits down. Clear glass, because the weather is the label.
BULLETIN ISSUED 06:00 · NEXT AT 18:00Sunshine makes a cheerful spirit and we have no use for it. Fog slows a coast down — the sea flattens, the air turns to salt gauze, and the still runs long and quiet.
Ours grows sideways, flattened by forty years of onshore blow. Smaller berries, harder oils, a gin that stands up straight in any weather.
Grows where the sea hits the cliff. Green, saline, faintly of carrots that went to sea. It is the middle of the palate and the middle of the coast.
One frond per hundred litres — any more and the sea takes over the conversation. Umami, iodine, the long grey finish the label promises.
The Fog Cut:
gin, cold tonic, nothing green.
The still runs only when the fog horn does. Cool damp air holds the condenser steady and the cuts come slower, cleaner, quieter. On clear days we bottle, label, and wait for the weather to come back.
