Shiso tastes of two things at once. The leaf carries a mint character and an anise one in the same breath, which is why Japanese cooking uses it where a European kitchen would need two herbs, and why it is difficult to place the first time you meet it. Birdie builds a French gin on it at 44%, and the 2023 World Gin Awards returned a gold.

The recipe gives the leaf room by keeping everything else in its own lane. Citrus zest opens the aroma with lemon, lime and orange arriving together, bright and clearly separated. Hibiscus works beside them with a tart floral note and a red-fruit edge, and it prevents the citrus from being merely sharp. Tasmanian pepperberry provides the heat, and it is an unusual one: fruity and faintly sweet before the burn arrives, and its first impression is more berry than peppercorn. Coriander seed sits between the fruit and the spice, warm and rounded. Juniper holds a clean resinous centre. And through all of it the shiso runs, minty and aniseed together, a herbal thread that never resolves into either of its two halves. Clean is the right word for the palate, refined rather than loud.

A leaf this particular deserves to be tasted before it is buried. Neat and lightly chilled is the honest starting point. Mixed, neutral tonic in a glass thick with ice will do, the pour generous enough that the shiso is not lost. A shiso leaf, struck once against the palm, is the ideal garnish where one can be found, and a lime wedge the practical stand-in. Nothing sweetened, which would blur the two halves of the leaf together. A botanical that needs two words to describe it is a gift to a distiller and a problem for a label. A botanical that needs two words to describe it is a gift to a distiller and a problem for a label, and this label does not try. It ends herbal, citric and clean.