Cloudberry does not grow where most people live. It needs bog and cold and a short northern summer, it resists cultivation almost entirely, and finding it in a bottle means somebody went out and picked it. Bivrost distils at the northernmost distillery in the world, cuts with glacial meltwater, and sets that berry beside lingonberry and crowberry at 44%.

Three Arctic berries in one recipe is unusual and none of them tastes like the others. Cloudberry is the softest, amber-coloured and faintly apricot-like with a tartness underneath that stops it being sweet. Lingonberry is sharper and more astringent, closer to cranberry, and the bite that runs across the middle is its doing. Crowberry is the darkest of the three, mild and slightly resinous, and it sits lowest where it adds weight rather than flavour. Above all three, juniper and citrus open the aroma with a vibrant clarity that the glacial water helps preserve, since water that soft carries no minerals to interfere with delicate material. Spices fill the middle discreetly and roots hold the base. The finish is clean and refreshing rather than long, which suits fruit gathered inside a very short season.

Berries this specific deserve to be tasted before they are mixed. Neat over ice is the producer's own suggestion and the right starting point. Afterwards, a neutral tonic in a well-iced glass will do, and the garnish should efface itself: lemon peel rather than any berry, since the recipe carries three already. Sweetened mixers would bury the cloudberry first. Distilling at that latitude is a logistical decision before it is a flavour one. Berries that refuse cultivation set a limit on how much of this gin can ever exist. It closes tart, fresh and clean.