The middle class reviewer quite likes the Norwegians. These Scandinavian types are usually quite fun, with their progressive politics and affluent lifestyles a mere veneer over a history of Viking rapine and pillage. This facade of civility is demolished, utterly, when boarding the Københavner-båten, where scandis flock to buy cheap alcohol from Copenhagen. Boarding the ferry to neighbouring Denmark is the modern day equivalent of a longboat raid as Norwegians svelte and stout sally forth to stock up on beer.
Harahorn gin, similarly, strips away any pretense and leaves exposed the truth of Norwegians, which is that they use snus, plodge around in temperatures of – 40C and lower without a care for it, and they literally invented the word “Berserk”. For all their hardy determination, they are a wonderful people, and only they could have made Harahorn Gin.
Harahorn is unafraid to announce itself. Bold flavour is the order of business here. On the first taste, the tartness of the rhubarb was perilously close to being mistaken for a slightly tails-heavy cut. A second, indeed third round quickly dispels that notion and reminds you that gin does not have to be delicate. It is not, however, a knock-out. There are subtleties to be discovered if sought. The initial aggression is by no means the final word. There is fun packed into the finish, which holds long on the tongue and breathes a truly delightful olfactory tease on the exhale.
This gin is unlikely to appeal to the summer drinker, who chases a light, refreshing mix of botanicals. For those who like a gin that is unashamedly present in the drinking, that could act as the warm-up fight for its departed cousin Brennevin, then the middle class reviewer would be remiss to not recommend it.
The middle class meal accompaniment would not be the crass stereotype of elk blood sausage or any form of fermented or dried fish. Oh no. This would go very splendidly with a game bird; pigeon for preference, or pheasant at a push.
Middle class rating? A Tesla Model 3.