Immortelle grows on dry Mediterranean ground and smells of curry and warm hay, which is not an obvious thing to put in a gin. It carries a resinous, faintly bitter depth that no other flower supplies, and it is the botanical that gives Maralpa Signature its earthy floor. Bottled at 40%, on a recipe where juniper is deliberately kept in a supporting role.

Demoting juniper is the structural decision everything else follows from. With the resin turned down, the regional plants have room to shape the aroma, and they take it: myrtle leaves bring a dry, slightly camphorous green note that is unmistakably Mediterranean scrub, and rosemary works beside them, more resinous and more pungent. Peel of lemon and of orange supplies the citrus, the first sharp, the second rounder, and between them they hold the aroma clear and bright. Coriander seed provides the warm spiced structure that stops the herbs from drifting, and beneath everything the immortelle keeps its dry, resinous, faintly bitter presence. The palate is balanced rather than loud: fresh herbs first, then the flowers, then the earthy backbone, and the finish is clean, aromatic and persistent.

The name refers to the historic territory joining the Alps to the Mediterranean, and the plant list carries that double identity honestly. Neutral tonic in a deeply chilled glass keeps the botanical definition intact; a flavoured one would blur exactly what the recipe took care to separate. A rosemary sprig or a strip of orange peel both work. It also holds up in modern stirred drinks. Where juniper leads less, everything else has to be right. Nothing on this list is doing filler work, and the immortelle least of all. It closes herbal, floral and earthy.