— Journal

Notes from the house.

Short notes on gin, botanicals, labels, and what we cut to get to three bottles. Written when there's something worth saying — not on a schedule.

No. 003 · Gin06.2026

On the case for a house gin.

A London Dry under our own mark started as a joke between two people who already drink too much gin. It survived three meetings, two label revisions, and one frankly humbling tasting because the brief kept getting shorter.

What we cut: juniper-forward swagger, citrus theatrics, a botanical list long enough to need a footnote. What we kept: a clear backbone, a touch of coriander seed, and the discipline to leave the rest alone. The bottle is heavy because we like the weight on a workbench, and the label is bone with bronze foil because we wanted it to read at arm's length in a low-lit room.

A house gin is a small claim. It says: this is what we drink, and this is what we'd pour you. If we got that right, nothing else needs saying.

— The House · 06.2026
No. 002 · Botanicals05.2026

The bill reads like a manifest.

Juniper, coriander seed, cassia, cardamom, angelica, citrus peel. Read that list aloud and you have described a fairly ordinary bottle of gin. Read it in a different room and you have described two hundred years of cargo.

That coincidence is the whole reason this house exists. Gin is not an English invention dressed up in trade language; it is a Dutch spirit that reached these shores on the same routes as the things that flavour it. The botanical bill is not a marketing device, it is a manifest, and it always was.

So we do not put ships on the label. We do not need to. The list on the back does the work, and it happens to be true.

— The House · 05.2026
No. 001 · The house04.2026

What we cut, and why.

We began with four categories — bottles, coffee, garage goods, desk objects — and a shelf of ideas for each. On paper it looked like range. In practice it looked like a gift shop, and it gave nobody a single reason to buy anything.

So we cut it to gin. Then we cut the gin to three: one dry, one spiced, one floral. Three is enough to be a house rather than a bottle, and few enough that we can make each one properly and explain it in a sentence. A vodka and two whiskies went in the same pass, and we do not miss them.

If a fourth is ever worth making, we will say so here first. Until then, three.

— The House · 04.2026

More notes when there's something worth saying. Back to the house →