Meet the Gin Kin team — Alan’s gin story

My first gin experience was…

My gin journey began in the supermarket aisles, seeking out a suitable base for a university party fruit punch. Having decided, perhaps unwisely in hindsight, not to just use turps, we settled on a supermarket-own brand – cheap but, certainly the morning after, not very cheerful. An uneasy alliance with my eventual passion moved on to popular brands like Gordon’s and Beefeater. I drank it sparingly though, preferring the taste of hops and barley to chemicals and bitter tears of regret.


I love gin because…

Game for anything, I plunged headlong back into the gin game as it became fashionable. I’m a sucker for a bonnie bottle and a citrus tang. There aren’t many drinks which can be so readily-mixed according to mood, weather, and company. The sight of a fully-stocked gin bar gives me a genuine flush of excitement and I can become lost in a fruit, spice and berry-infused heaven for as long as my bank account allows.



My favourite gin is…

My go-to favourite is Daffy’s. Keep it simple with Fever Tree tonic (light, for the waistline), mint and lime. Indulge me though (for what is small batch gin but sheer indulgence) and let me have a foreign favourite – my Finnish friend, Napue, neat over ice, is close to heavenly.


My best gin moment was…

A night out with pals in a small Edinburgh gin joint when they sat me down and educated me through repeated trips to the bar. It was moment when I learned there was more (thankfully) to this liquid bliss than Gordon’s and Schweppes. A palate-pleasing, wallet-bashing, life-affirming epiphany.


My worst gin moment was…

Sobbing, curled on the floor of my uni flat, as the full effects of what is little better than low-grade cleaning fluid hit me. Repeatedly. Drinking supermarket gin straight out of the bottle is unwise. Thankfully times, and drinking habits, have changed.


My perfect gin moment would be…

Like Miss World wishing for world peace, my official answer is with my wife, watching the sun set at the end of a remarkable day of sun and relaxation, preferably with gentle waves lightly kissing my sandy feet. In reality, as long as it’s a braw batch, anywhere, anytime and alone with a good book.

Alan Richardson is a journalist and regular contributor


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