Sansho does two things at once that no single European botanical manages. It is a relative of Sichuan pepper, so it carries a bright citrus zing at the front and a warm, faintly numbing pepper tingle behind it, and the berries here are picked by hand in the Afan Woodland of Nagano Prefecture. Kokoro puts them into a London Dry made in Britain, at 40%.

The English half of the recipe is entirely conventional, which is what makes the Japanese half legible. Orange peel leads the nose alongside angelica root, juniper and coriander, and the aroma reads citrus-forward before anything unfamiliar appears. The opening on the palate is jammy citrus, thick and sweet-edged, followed by a clearer lemon note and then the spice arriving in sequence: coriander first, then black pepper, then angelica root drying everything out underneath. That is where the sansho makes itself felt, extending the pepper and adding the light buzz that belongs to its family alone. Liquorice root supplies an unctuous sweetness across the close, and the finish holds moderate warmth with the pepperiness still faintly present.

A gin that ends on pepper suits a serve that does not soften it. Neutral tonic, a deep bed of ice, and an ordinary pour; lemon peel echoes the citrus, and a whole sansho berry, if you have one, follows the point of the exercise. It gives a Martini where the tingle survives dilution. A share of the profits goes to the Afan Woodland Trust, which conserves the ancient Japanese woodland the berries come from. Buying a botanical and funding the forest it grows in is a rarer arrangement than it should be. Most brands stop at the sourcing note and call it provenance. It closes citric, peppery and warm.