The label carries lunar rock dust and a moon meteorite; the liquid carries citrus peel and almond. Moon Gin sells a cosmic story and then makes an entirely terrestrial gin, and the gap between the two is worth naming rather than repeating. Matthew Van Noten and Tommy De Mulder conceived it in Belgium, bottled at 44%.

Citrus is what the recipe actually turns on. Bitter orange, sweet orange and lemon peel work together across the top, one sharp, one round, one clean, and lemongrass reinforces the same direction from a different plant entirely. Beneath them the structure is orthodox: juniper supplying the dry frame, coriander seed and cinnamon adding spice, angelica holding everything together. Basil and rosemary then draw a green herbal line through the middle, and star anise adds an aniseed lift behind them.

Two elements do the softening. Liquorice gives a sweet-bitter depth without sugar, and almond rounds the palate with a gentle nutty weight that most citrus gins have no answer for. The spirit is a grain distillate, double distilled in a copper alambique.

The nose opens fresh on citrus and juniper with cinnamon and almond warmer behind, the herbs appearing as a clean green lift rather than as heavy resin. The palate keeps citrus central while the spice builds moderately, and the finish stays dry enough to read as gin without turning austere. World Gin Awards tasters noted floral aromas, an earthy sweetness, violet and orris-like impressions, sweetness on the palate and bitterness at the close.

Keep the serve simple: a neutral tonic, cold ice, and a restrained citrus zest. Orange, lemon or lime all work. A clean Tom Collins suits it on the same logic: nothing in that build argues with the bottle.