The colour is the tell. A gin that comes out of the bottle amber has not been redistilled with its botanicals; it has been steeped in them, the way household gin was made during Prohibition in whatever vessel came to hand, and the bathtub in the name refers to exactly that. Ableforth's does it deliberately and at 57%, the navy strength that once had to survive contact with gunpowder.

Cold compounding leaves more behind than a still does, and the result is a much heavier gin than the botanical list suggests. Cassia and cloves supply the darkest part of it, cinnamon-adjacent and penetrating, and they are what push the aroma toward mulled wine rather than toward a bar. Cardamom brings its cool camphorous lift, coriander the fresher counterweight, and orange peel a citrus note that has picked up depth from the steeping. Juniper is thick and oily and resinous rather than clean, which is what the method does to it, and a tart red-fruit note sits somewhere behind all of that. A splash of water opens it further, releasing pine resin and black pepper that the strength keeps folded up.

At 57% the water is not optional so much as recommended. Neat with a few drops added is the way to meet it; over ice it holds up entirely. Mixed, neutral tonic over a deep bed of ice barely dents it, and the proportions can stay conventional. Orange peel, in a broad strip, follows the only citrus present. Each bottle is wrapped by hand in brown paper, waxed and tied with twine. Steeping instead of distilling is the old way, and the strength is the older one. Neither one is a shortcut. Both produce a gin that has to be met on its own terms rather than quietly smoothed into a mixer. It closes spiced, resinous and warm.