Whitley Neill Quince Gin

Nobody eats a quince raw. Hard, astringent and close to inedible off the tree, it has to be cooked or steeped before it gives anything up, and that is exactly what makes it useful in a gin: the aromatic material is there, waiting, and macerationMacerationBotanicals soak in alcohol, from a few hours to several days, before distillation to release their aromas.Glossary is one of the ways to reach it. Whitley Neill pairs it with gooseberry at 43%.

Citrus · Floral · Fruity

The two fruits divide the work. Quince supplies a gentle, honeyed sweetness with a floral edge, the character it only reveals once it has been worked on. Gooseberry answers with a crisp acidity, sharp and green, and the definition of the palate comes from it and stops the quince from settling into something soft. Neither is a common gin botanical, and both belong to hedgerows and old gardens rather than to a spice trade, which is a coherent thing for a British range to reach for.

Roots do the structural work underneath: angelica, orris and liquorice, the last of them stretching the ending on a sweetness owing nothing to the fruit. Coriander seed and cassia barkCassiaThe bark of a Chinese cinnamon tree, coarser and hotter than Ceylon cinnamon. It brings a warm, slightly sweet spice.Glossary add the spice, and juniper stays present through all of it.

The nose is juniper first, then orchard fruit and a light floral turn. The palate opens on the quince sweetness before the gooseberry acidity arrives to sharpen it, and the roots keep the structure from being overrun. The finish is clean and softly fruity with a subtle dryness returning at the end. Neutral tonic, and light cocktails where the fruit can stay legible. Two hedgerow fruits rather than one supermarket one is a narrower origin than the category demands, and it is why this bottle tastes unlike anything else in the range. Quince in particular is a fruit most people know only as a jelly on a cheeseboard, if they have met it at all.