Resin is an actual ingredient here, not a tasting metaphor. It sits on the list beside fir buds, and the two of them are why this gin smells of standing timber rather than of a bar. Sanglier makes it in Belgium at 40%, in a 50 cl bottle, on five botanicals and no more.

Five leaves nothing to lean on. Juniper supplies the structure the category requires and the first thing the nose meets. Fir buds follow with a bright coniferous green, the smell of new growth rather than of cut wood. Resin then adds depth and body underneath, balsamic and slightly sticky, and the weight on the palate comes from it. Angelica root keeps everything grounded with a dry, earthy backbone. Caraway seed is the only real departure: warm, faintly aniseed, with an aromatic bitterness that stops the recipe from turning soft. No citrus anywhere, an absence rare enough to place the style on its own.

The effect on the nose is closer to walking into conifer woodland than to opening a bottle: dry needles, soft resin, roots, wild herbs. The palate stays in the same register, dry and herbal throughout, and the finish is woody and gently spiced with a forest note that persists rather than a sweet or citric close.

The bottle belongs to the Sanglier world in Durbuy, the Ardennes project carried by La Petite Merveille and associated with Marc Coucke. A gin named after a forest and then built from five things that actually grow in one is a narrower proposition than the theme suggests.

A Mediterranean tonic supports the resinous side without covering it. Clear ice, a measured pour and a restrained garnish: juniper berries, and a pine branch passed briefly through a flame for its aroma. That branch is there to be smelled, not eaten, and should be treated accordingly.