In north-eastern India, the water in this gin is rain. Raincheck Earth Co. collects it in the Cherrapunji-Mawsynram region, triple-filters it, and uses it to cut a grain spirit, which makes the most ordinary ingredient in the bottle the one that says most about where the gin comes from. Rain is the local surplus, and using it is a statement about the place rather than a technical shortcut.

The botanicals stay in the same corner of the map. Himalayan juniper leads. Khasi mandarin and Kaji lemon supply a citrus pairing you will not find in a European recipe: the mandarin rounder than an orange and more fragrant, the Kaji lemon sharper and thinner-skinned than the lemons most distillers use. Black and green cardamom appear together, which is unusual and deliberate, since the green is bright and eucalyptic while the black is smoky and almost meaty. Wild pepper adds grip. Then comes smoked tea from the Lushai Hills, the botanical that ties the two cardamoms together and leaves a dry, ashy edge at the end. Eight botanicals in all, and beyond juniper and coriander none is a European classic.

The package matters here too. The gin ships in a reusable stainless-steel bottle, an environmental decision rather than a design flourish, and it is bottled at 42.8%, high enough for the smoke and the pepper to hold their shape once the drink is long. Steel keeps light out as well, which does a gin more good than the clear glass most brands prefer.

Indian tonic makes the obvious pairing. Ten centilitres of tonic to four of gin, poured over dense ice, with a strip of Khasi mandarin peel and a wheel of lemon. Chill everything first and stir briefly. If the mandarin peel is hard to find, a thick orange peel comes closer than a thin one: it is the oil you want, not the fruit.