Each botanical goes through the still alone, under vacuum, and is blended only afterwards. The technique comes from the perfume industry rather than from distilling, and Kimio Yonezawa uses it here because low-pressure distillation keeps fragile aromas that a hot still would cook away. It also turns a recipe of eight plants into eight separate decisions, since the proportions are set at the blending bench instead of being guessed at in the charge.

He examined more than fifty botanicals before settling on those eight: three classical European ones, juniper, angelica and coriander, and five Japanese, sencha, yuzu, shiso leaf, ume and sansho pepper. Yuzu gives the perfumed, almost floral citrus a lemon cannot. Shiso is the odd one, mint-like and faintly aniseed at once. Ume brings a sour plum edge, sencha a vegetal tannin, and sansho the peppery tingle that Japanese cooking uses as a seasoning rather than as heat. Angelica root stays out of sight and holds the dry, earthy floor the rest stands on.

Sansho is also the reason for the last step. The blend is finished with a splash of distilled Akashi-Tai Junmai sake, which rounds the pepper and keeps it from biting. The Yonezawa family has brewed sake since 1856 and began distilling in 1917, so the sake is not a novelty but the house's oldest material. The name marks the 135th meridian east, the line that runs through Akashi City in Hyogo and sets Japanese standard time.

An Indian tonic holds the structure best at 42%. The ratio is 4 cl of gin to 10 cl of tonic, poured onto hard ice, finished with a yuzu peel and a shiso leaf. Work cold and stir briefly, without breaking the ice. Those two garnishes are already in the recipe, so they sharpen what is there instead of adding a new flavour.