This is garden gin through rose-tinted glasses — a raspberry-laced whisper of a spirit that leans more toward flavour than fire. At 32%, it’s light, liqueur-adjacent, and outrageously easy to drink. But don’t mistake softness for simplicity — there’s structure here, and elegance too.

On the nose: wild raspberries still warm from the sun, rose petals, a hint of mint leaf, and soft citrus zest. There’s also a trace of piney juniper underneath it all — the bare bones of classic gin structure holding the fruit aloft.

The palate is luscious but clean: bright raspberry coulis, pink grapefruit, lemon thyme, and a breeze of cucumber skin. There’s a lovely tart-sweet push-and-pull, almost like a dry rosé that’s had a fling with a fruit patch. The alcohol is low, but it carries the botanicals without fading — this isn’t watered down, it’s toned down.

Mid-palate brings more herbal depth — a touch of basil, perhaps, or peppery nasturtium — before rounding off into a creamy raspberry compote with a crisp, zesty edge.

Finish: fresh, floral, and fleeting — like a kiss in the garden just before sunset. Serve long with soda, or pour over crushed ice with a sprig of mint and a twist of lemon. Or don’t dress it up at all — it’s that pretty on its own.