Longtooth Gin

Longtooth is the re-imagining of what was apparently a very popular brand in the UK in the 1960s and ’70s – Bengal Gin (pictured below)

Bengal Distilleries started as a continuation of an illicit still tacked on to a chemical works producing alum, a flocculent, in Konnagar in the Bengal region of India. The distillery became rather well-established and produced brandy and gin as well as its cheap, molasses-based Arak. Its owner, one Eric Hayward, was a rather enthusiastic Anglo-Indian businessman, holding licences for the distribution of opium, marijuana and hard liquor in India before such good things became frowned upon. Hayward sold Bengal Distillery to the Shaw-Wallace company in 1958, where under the stewardship of his son, Tony, Bengal Gin became the drink of choice for swinging 60’s Britain. Longtooth’s revival of the spirit stems from 2018, when a “secret” master distiller dusted off a recipe and came up with Longtooth. The Longtooth website declares their signature pour to be the Maneater Martini, and being a middle-class reviewer comfortable with the concept of drinking a gin called The Maneater, this had to be the pour to score.

The ingredients for a Maneater Martini are:

• 1 part Longtooth Gin
• 1 part Copalli white rum.
• 1 part Stolichnaya vodka.
• 1 part Corralejo Reposado Tequila.
• 2 parts Berentzen peach schnapps.

This is enhanced in the most delightful way by the addition of a couple of shakes of orange bitters. Regan’s No. 6 works superbly, however other varieties may do just as well.

There is little fancy about the making of this cocktail. No elaborate shakes in a copper shaker on ice. Simply pour in the ingredients and give it a good stir. It should be admitted that, being totally unfamiliar with peach schnapps (it had to be ordered in specially for this review) your middle class reviewer made “a bit of a boob” with the first pour, mistaking the pink lacing pattern on a bottle of La Caravedo pisco for the sort of thing one would usually expect on a bottle of peach schnapps. The result of this mishap was somewhat over half a pint of hard liquor, a “Maneater Plus”. Surprisingly, the Maneater not was overwhelmed with the addition of pisco and the cocktail was eminently drinkable. Needless to say though, it would not do to base the review of Longtooth’s signature pour on the basis of an improperly made version, so once the Maneater Plus had been consumed, your reviewer was able to mix a standard Maneater for the purposes of review.

It should be noted at this point that there was absolutely the intention to write a review following the second Maneater.

The ingredients list looks – and we should be honest in our assessment here – revolting. Tequila. Peach schnapps. Vodka. White rum. The phrase “overkill” looms ominously into view when deciding whether one should mix a Maneater. However, the drink works. The second was undoubtedly better than the first. However, after the second, memory becomes a little hazy. A third was absolutely out of the question, however the bottle of pisco had been left within an arm’s reach and it seemed like a very good idea to drink more. Suffice to say, “bed” as a destination was not reached that night, and your reviewer found himself at around 04:45 waking up on the settee, thankfully fully clothed – and in full control of his bladder. The resulting hangover was fearsome. Needless to say, a review was not written.

Tonight marks attempt number 2 at a Maneater review, and at the start of this paragraph approximately 2/3rds has been consumed. It genuinely is a remarkably good drink. Longtooth works well in it; spicy but not overwhelming. The tequila must be selected carefully; Jose Cuervo should not be allowed within twenty leagues of <anything at all> and the orange bitters does very well to add a frisson of excitement to proceedings.

Longtooth itself is most certainly worth a look. The branding is superb, the botanical mix is invigorating and compelling, and 10% of profits are ploughed into big cat charities, which is always a nice sop to the middle-class guilt of whether one does enough for the natural world or not.