This is pear season in a bottle, but seasoned with edge and intrigue. Poire Poivrée takes the elegant sweetness of French Bartlett pears and cracks black Kampot pepper over the top, creating a gin that is both ripe and razor-sharp.

The nose is beautiful and beguiling — ripe pear flesh, fresh-cut green herbs, a touch of lemon balm, and a waft of crushed black peppercorn. The fruit is soft and floral, almost perfumed, but the pepper keeps it from ever tipping into dainty. There’s also a cool, green character here — cucumber skin, green cardamom, and a distant note of cypress.

The palate is where the balance shines. It opens with that delicate, honeyed pear — sweet, round, juicy — before the pepper builds gently, like a slow crescendo. It never overwhelms. Instead, it dances through the sweetness, lifting the fruit with structure and spice. Mid-palate is floral and gently warming, with hints of white tea and coriander seed. The alcohol is smooth and well-integrated, carrying the botanicals with clarity.

The finish is mouth-watering and gently spiced — the pear fading into dried herbs, cracked pepper, and a trace of anise.

Serve it with soda water and a sprig of tarragon, or use it to elevate a French 75. It’s also glorious in a white Negroni, where the pear gives it lift and the pepper brings tension. A chef’s gin, meant for pairings and play.