Category: Review

First Reviewed 12 Jan 2018

The antipodean fellows who distil Scapegrace have managed to apply the same concept to their gin, taking a wonderfully British drink and managing to boost the volume of it. There is no standout botanical in Scapegrace. No gimmicky theme to overwhelm the senses. It’s just a London Dry that does London Dry in the same way Spinal Tap does amps.

Apparently, this stuff has won gongs for being a Jolly Good gin and this Middle-Class Reviewer has to concur with the judges; it is an exceptional spirit.

Saying all this. I am aware that it is a contentious gin. A chap of my acquaintance described it as “revolting” and scoffed at my lyrical waxing. As far as I am concerned, this young blade is more than welcome to not enjoy it, as it will leave all the more for me to enjoy.

Middle class verdict:

Pretentiousness: 6/10

Gin-miles: 10/10

Gushingly effusive one-upmanship potential: 7/10

The potential for gushing effusiveness is brought down by the fact it’s won gongs. Fortunately, I discovered it before all that, which restores my personal middle-classosity to the full 10/10.

Middle-class meal accompaniment

More of the same please. Until I pass out in a pleasant stupor of really very excellent gin.

(first posted 3 December 2018)

Well, this afternoon will see my first Middle Class Gin Review in quite some little while. I apologise for the lack of Middle Class Gin Reviews, however while my gin collection has grown since the last one, my whisky collection has grown by a larger margin and literally nobody is interested in whisky reviews. The lack will be atoned for now by the review of this Irish potato gin from the Muff Liquor Company. It doesn’t taste like potatoes, but then one wouldn’t expect it to.

It’s actually really rather amusing. I was tantalised by its orangeyness. Orange is definitely the stand-out flavour of Muff, rosemary being only a teasing glimpse on the finish. In a G&T, the Muff is not so much Brazillian as full Kojack; it is entirely smooth, almost to the point where it is overwhelmed by even a light tonic. I am not one to drown my gins, but even the smallest dash does not do this gin jusitce.

The Muff deserves something stiff to open it up. Something hard and thrusting to penetrate its soft and yielding warmth. That’s not to say that Muff doesn’t reward the tongue. The lips moisten as you close in, aromas piquing your senses even before you taste. The pleasure intensifies as you tease the subtlety of its flavour, gently coaxing the lighter botanicals towards a great mandarin climax. The best experience is not necessarily with something big – but it does needs to know how to work it. My next will be a Gibson made with Noilly Prat, however I would love to try it in a White Lady, where its smooth compliance will be tested against a zingy, dominant taste.

My Middle-Class meal choice to go along with it is a tricky one as the orangeyness would not, I imagine, go well with many things. If pressed, I would pair it with a terrine, following on from proscuitto and melon but still, very definitely, before the main course.

(First posted 23 July 2016)

Tonight’s gin experiment. Martin Miller’s, with celery and black peppercorns.

Verdict: actually quite nice. Needs to be paired with something savoury. As I moved down the glass, I threw in a cardamom pod, which has also worked well.

All this coupled with paprika dusted chicken accompanied by a medly of roasted veg; baby potatoes, courgette, peppers, red onion and garlic.

Middle classness rating: Currently chilling a bottle of Sancerre.

(Originally posted 19 December 2017)

I’m not a stranger to the art of middle class. After a brief spell rebelling against it as a late teen, I now fully accept the fact that I was brought up the son of a headmaster who was himself the son of a headmaster. That headmaster was in turn the son of a vicar and yet another vicar preceded him.

Middle-class as far back as the eye can see. This lineage is past; today marks ten years since my father died and it is with this in mind, tonight, that I raise a middle-class glass to the Old Man, and dedicate a Middle Class Gin Review to him.

Roku Gin. A Japanese craft gin that I had absolutely no preconceptions of, and boy, it’s surprised me. It is sweet, but not overwhelmingly so. I have garnished it with a roughed-up basil leaf and a slice of red apple, and this will forever be the way I prepare a G&T with Roku.

The apple compliments and enhances the sweetness, without distracting. The basil highlights what I can only describe as a fresh leafiness to the gin, accenting the subtlety of the botanicals. This is a fresh gin, with a palate than can literally only be described as “soft” – it has the consistency of a cloud, and teases your tastebuds with the gentle stepping of a prima ballerina. The finish lingers, with a rounded, mellow dream, hinting of green tea.

I did not have a middle class meal pairing with this gin tonight, however I imagine it would work exceptionally well with simple food, done well. Vegetables dipped in a light, fluffy tempura batter, served with a gingery dipping sauce would be perfect.

Domo arigato, Roku gin.

But more importantly, domo arigato Old Man.

first posted 30 August 2017)

As it has been approximately one million years since my last Middle Class Gin Review, I thought it was high time to set one off. This time, I’m reviewing Sibling gin, given to me a little while ago by my, er, sibling.

This is actually a surprisingly fruity gin, and very easy drinking. At least, it is when served with greengage and a couple of cardamom pods. It has a very sweet finish – it almost tastes like I’ve mixed in some simple syrup, which I haven’t. I think my next garnish for it will be a gooseberry or two. In fact, my middle-class meal accompaniment would be a gooseberry fool, as it is definitely a dessert gin.

Thinking about it a bit more, my next one might be a gimlet made, not as Terry Lennox describes in Raymond Chandler’s The Long Goodbye, but as he laments the concoction he and Philip Marlowe are presented with:

‘We sat in the corner bar at Victor’s and drank gimlets. “They don’t know how to make them here,” he said. “What they call a gimlet is just some lime or lemon juice and gin with a dash of sugar and bitters. A real gimlet is half gin and half Rose’s Lime Juice and nothing else. It beats martinis hollow.”‘

Ordinarily, Chandler is cock-on with his cock-tails. However, I strongly suspect that with Sibling gin, Victor (of Victor’s bar, where our hardboiled private dick is drinking with Mr Lennox) has the superior mix.

It just so happens that I stocked myself up tonight with fresh limes, and I think I can probably retrieve some mint from the garden. A variation of a Victor’s Bar gimlet, coming up next.

(First posted 26 May 2017)

It’s been quite some little while since my last middle-class gin review. Tonight we shall be rectifying that with Glendalough gin, from the Republic of Oirland. I think that might be Jaysus on the front of the bottle, to be sure to be sure.

Having just got back from a few days in the West of Ireland, I thought I’d bring back a gin I’d not tried before – and to be perfectly frank I’m rather glad I did, because this is a delight. It’s light, yet has a lot going on.

It’s been too long a day to actually prepare a middle-class meal accompaniment for it, but I would suggest that it would go extremely well with roast fennel, new potatoes – boiled – and (bear with me on this) leading on to a really, really simple bread and butter pudding where the ingredients are literally just bread, butter, milk, sugar and sultanas.

Middle-classness factor: it’s so much nicer coming home from a few days away when the cleaner has been

Tonight’s gin experiment: Hotel Chocolat Cocoa gin.

As I perhaps expected, it’s Rather Bitter. I wouldn’t describe it as chocolatey; it’s more like raw cocoa powder, really quite deep and rather earthy. I shall probably mix it with something other than tonic for the next one; later on it’ll go in a gin fizz, where the bitterness will enhance and contrast with the sweetness, or perhaps a Tom Collins, depending on my whim.

The middle-class meal accompaniment was Geoff Vader’s favourite – penne al’arrabiata.

This whole experiment is dedicated to the inspiration for my middle-class-osity, my sister, who’s so middle class that she’s won awards in publishing.

(First posted 20 December 2016)

Tonight’s gin experiment: The Loch Fyne Botanical Gin.

Courtesy of my friend Alex, this is a slightly buttery gin with a dry, almost astringent finish. One of the few gins in my collection that would probably go well with rosemary, and perhaps (just perhaps) a clove.

To enhance the middle-classness, I’d accompany it with farrouj meshwi, but I’d mix up the cuisines a bit by following it with a kopra pak, heavier on the saffron.

Tonight’s gin experiment…

…is marvellous, look you!

Welsh gin, boyo!

Dà Mhìle gin, apparently made with seaweed. It’s got a somewhat overpowering liquorice flavour to it. The bottle (and the blurb) suggests that it’s a good accompaniment to fish (which I don’t eat) or seafood (which I don’t eat) but I think, giving it a bit of time, that it would probably go rather well with a really heavily maced Jamaican jerk pork.

Probably not one you’d have more than every so often.

MIddle-classness factor? Nye Bevan wouldn’t have approved.

(First posted 9 October 2016)

I won’t call this a gin experiment, because I’ve had Hoxton Gin before. It’s very different stuff. Not to everyone’s taste, I’m sure, but I enjoyed it enough on a gin night the first time round that I’ve gladly bought another bottle.

Middle class meal to go with it – actually, nought but fresh air with this one.