Read this as a liqueur rather than a gin and everything about its behaviour becomes clear. Kokoro sets yuzu against ginger, two Japanese ingredients that occupy opposite ends of the palate, and builds something intended to be lengthened rather than sipped at full strength.

Yuzu is the reason the bottle exists at all. It is a citrus with no real equivalent in Europe, more floral and more complicated than lemon, with a bitterness in the peel that grapefruit only approaches, and its aroma is what arrives first and stays longest. Ginger works from the opposite direction and at the opposite end: a fresh prickling heat rising slowly through the middle and warming the finish, cutting through the sweetness a liqueur necessarily carries. Between them the balance is lively rather than heavy, and the sweetness never smothers either half. What it is not is a dry spirit, and expecting one is the surest way to be disappointed by something that was never trying to be that.

Three serves are named and each works. Lengthened with tonic or soda water it becomes a long drink where the yuzu leads and the ginger closes. Mixed with champagne it turns into something for a table rather than a bar. Simply over ice, the aromas arrive undiluted and the ginger is at its clearest. Ice generously in every case, since a lower strength dilutes faster than a spirit does. Lemon in a twist is the practical garnish; fresh ginger follows the other half. Ten percent of the profit on every bottle goes to the C.W. Nicol Afan Woodland Trust, which restores ancient Japanese woodland. Naming the charity and the percentage on the label is a commitment that can be checked, unlike most of what appears there. It ends citric, warm and lively.