Hazel catkins hang from bare branches in late winter and almost nobody has ever put them in a bottle. They are the male flower of the hazel, and picking them means being in the right wood in the right fortnight. The distillery-herbalist at the Abbey of Maredsous uses them alongside hogweed seed, and both belong to a tradition of monastic plant work older than gin itself.

Three grains make the base rather than one, and that matters. Barley, rye and wheat are blended, all certified organic, and the result is rounder and more textured than a single-cereal spirit, with the rye in particular giving a faint peppery edge underneath everything. Over ten medicinal plants go on top. Hazel catkin is delicate and faintly green, more a texture than a flavour. Hogweed seed is the assertive one, aromatic and slightly citric with a bitter edge that reads as almost coriander-like without being it. Angelica root pins the base down with dry earth, and juniper keeps the recipe firmly where it belongs. Then six months in oak change the whole thing: the wood adds a distinct resinous warmth and rounds every edge, which is why the finish is smoother than a dry gin at this strength usually manages.

Wood and wild herbs are both flattened by a heavy mixer. Neutral tonic and a properly iced glass work, but a short measure over one big cube shows the barrel more honestly. Orange peel suits the oak better than lemon; a Negroni is the mixed build that survives intact. Skip anything sweetened, which the oak would fight. Bronze at the 2021 IWSC in London is a modest verdict on a recipe with no obvious peers. A distillery attached to an abbey has access to a plant list that predates the drinks trade by centuries. It closes woody, herbal and dry.