The serving instruction is the unusual part: a twist of lime and a dash of black peppercorn, added to the glass. Very few gins ask you to season a drink, and the reason this one does is that pepper is already in the recipe, so the garnish repeats a botanical rather than introducing a new idea. MOM builds it as a London Dry at 40%, with red fruits and exotic botanicals beside the classical list.

Red fruit comes through first, and it marks the distance between this and a conventional dry gin. Ripe, sweet and generous, it fills the front of the palate before anything else registers, and it is unusual for a London Dry to lead this way. Lime zest cuts across it immediately, sharper and greener than a lemon would be, and that contrast is what stops the fruit becoming a cordial. Liquorice works underneath in the opposite direction, stretching the finish on a sweetness that no sugar produced. Coriander occupies the middle with warm seed spice, and then the black peppercorn arrives late and clean, a dry aromatic heat that is the last thing you notice and the thing that lingers. Juniper holds firm through all of it, which the classification demands and this recipe genuinely delivers.

The producer asks for a well-chilled gin and tonic, and the emphasis on chilled is deliberate: the pepper reads sharper cold. Take a neutral tonic, load the glass with ice, add the lime twist, and grind the pepper over the surface at the end. Anything sweetened is redundant with this much fruit already present. Naming a bottle after 1970s punk and then making a well-behaved London Dry is a joke worth appreciating. Telling a drinker to reach for the pepper mill is a confident instruction, and the recipe earns it. It ends fruity, peppery and dry.