Espelette pepper is a protected French chilli, mild by the standards of anything grown further south, and it is the last thing you would expect at the end of a floral gin. Saint Amans grows part of its botanical list in the distillery's own garden in southwest France, twenty-two plants in all, and bottles at 40%.

Flowers do the opening and they are named rather than generic. Toulouse violet is the local one, powdery and delicate, the flower that city has candied for two centuries. Rose petals sit beside it, softly perfumed, and lavender cools both from above with its aromatic edge. Underneath, the herbs take over: thyme is dry and resinous, the plant of the surrounding hills, and it turns the centre savoury, which the flowers alone would not survive. Juniper holds the classical centre. Grape marc lays a vinous depth at the base of a kind no grain spirit produces, and fruit from the same garden fills in behind. The Espelette arrives at the very end, warm rather than burning, and it is what turns a pretty recipe into a finished one.

Growing what you distil means the list changes with the season, and a gin like that deserves a simple glass. Neutral tonic, ice heaped in the glass, and enough spirit for the violet to come through. A rose petal or a thyme sprig both follow the recipe, and lemon peel serves when neither is to hand. Nothing sweetened, which would cover the pepper first. Distilling, bottling and shipping from one site is rarer than it sounds. A garden that supplies part of the recipe ties the bottle to a place more firmly than any label claim. Twenty-two plants, and the ones that matter most are the two nobody else could have used. It closes floral, herbal and gently hot.