Neither of the peppers here is pepper. Pink peppercorns come from a South American tree related to the cashew, and grains of paradise are a West African ginger relative; both bite, neither is Piper nigrum, and using the two together builds a peppery layer with no black pepper anywhere in it. Terres de Mistral does that in Provence at 40%, on twelve botanicals and a base spirit distilled from Provençal grapes.

A local base is the structural decision. Grape spirit is rounder and softer than grain, and it gives the herbs something forgiving to sit on, which matters when the herbs are this assertive. Thyme, rosemary and mint hold the Provençal core between them: thyme dry and savoury, rosemary resinous, mint cold and lifting. Fennel adds an aniseed nuance beside them. Pink grapefruit peel is the only citrus and it does two jobs, freshness at the top and a gentle bitterness that keeps the middle from softening. Then the two peppers arrive, pink pepper sweeter and more resinous, maniguette sharper and more genuinely hot, with iris root binding everything below in a powdery floral note. Juniper, coriander and cardamom keep the classic dry frame intact.

Precision like this survives a simple treatment. Neutral tonic, a heavily iced glass, a standard measure, and a citrus garnish; grapefruit follows the recipe, lemon does no harm. It works in dry, herb-driven cocktails where the Provençal character is the point rather than the decoration. Growing the grapes, the herbs and the drinker in the same place is the oldest argument for a regional spirit. Twelve botanicals from one landscape is a narrower brief than a shelf of imported spices, and a harder one. It closes herbal, peppery and dry.