There are distilleries you visit once and remember always. Sipsmith's operation in Chiswick — tucked behind the residential streets of west London, where the Thames bends lazily past Hammersmith — is one of them. I first walked through their doors years ago, back when craft gin's revival in the capital still felt like a quiet insurgency. What struck me then, and strikes me still, is how seriously they take the word 'craft' without ever making a sermon of it.
A Bold Declaration of Juniper
Sipsmith V.J.O.P. — Very Junipery Over Proof — is a gin that does exactly what its name promises, and then some. At a commanding 57.7% ABV, this is London Dry with the volume turned emphatically up. The concept is disarmingly simple: take the classic Sipsmith recipe and push juniper to the foreground, letting the spirit's naval-strength backbone carry the weight. It is a love letter to what London Dry gin was always supposed to be, before the botanical arms race nudged juniper to the margins.
The botanical bill reads like a masterclass in restraint and balance. That extra charge of juniper is the headline, of course, but it is supported by a cast of real depth — coriander seed and angelica root providing the structural architecture, lemon and orange peel lending bright citrus counterpoint, orris root and liquorice contributing an earthy, almost silken quality. Cassia bark and cinnamon add warm spice without tipping into wintriness, while ground almond rounds the whole composition with a subtle, marzipan softness. Ten botanicals, each earning its place.
What I admire most about V.J.O.P. is its confidence. At this proof, a lesser gin would simply bludgeon you with alcohol heat. Here, the strength serves as an amplifier for complexity. The juniper doesn't just appear — it commands the room, resinous and aromatic, pine-forest deep. Yet there is elegance in that power, a poise that speaks to Sipsmith's understanding of copper-pot distillation and the patience required to coax harmony from intensity.
Best Served
Best served in a generous goblet with premium Indian tonic, a thick wheel of pink grapefruit, and plenty of ice — ideally on a late afternoon in a London beer garden, the kind where wisteria climbs old brick walls and the conversation is unhurried. The overproof strength means the gin more than holds its own against dilution, blooming rather than retreating as the ice melts. At £48, it represents serious value for a gin of this calibre and conviction. A 9 out of 10, and a bottle I am never without.
