The Book of Gin: A Spirited World History from Alchemists' Stills and Colonial Outposts to Gin Palaces, Bathtub Gin, and Artisanal Cocktails

"Richard Barnett is a historian and, for me, it’s an interesting one. There are a lot of boozehounds who talk about history and it can be a little bit cold and un-engaging. Richard is a historian at heart. He gives no explanation of how one might make gin, or drink it, or make cocktails or anything like that until he’s well into the book. It very much comes second. And that’s why I think that, if you had to read about the history of gin, his is the book I would refer people to. It is comprehensive and well-written. Yes. When I look at, say, Olivia Williams’s book which is a nice read, or Lesley Jacobs Solmonson’s, which is also a good read, they’re really just summarizing similar content without necessarily covering any new ground. I think Richard’s ability to present history in an engaging way makes it the go-to as a reference for the history. And still, to this day, I haven’t really seen anyone tackle the subject in its entirety with the same ability and the same completeness. “The term ‘quacks’ for doctors came from the bubonic plague era, when doctors used to wear masks with long beaks…They thought that by breathing through juniper, they would be immune to the plague.” Jessica’s book is about 70 years of history—a very specific period—whereas Richard’s goes right the way through to Prohibition. Some of the American books on that history focus on booze and not necessarily gin, whereas Richard remains on topic. He articulates very well how juniper was used from a medicinal perspective. There was this growth in myth and folklore through people like Pepys—and other writers of that time referencing their plights, whether it was gout or colic. The plague doctors used juniper berries to breathe through. The term ‘quacks’ for doctors came from the bubonic plague era, when doctors used to wear masks with long beaks. And those beaks were filled with juniper. They thought that by breathing through juniper, they would be immune to the plague. Obviously they were wrong but, ironically, there is a slight truth in that juniper oil is actually quite a good flea-repellent. So, they wouldn’t be covered in fleas, perhaps. And—who knows—maybe that made their houses less attractive to rats and rodents that were carrying the plague at the time. Little details like that are sporadically put in and linked throughout the book. Many terms that we know today are relevant. Another example is: “a bitter pill to swallow.” He talks about that being the quinine pill that troops used to get. They used to have to wash it down with alcohol of some form and often that was gin. That was the original gin and tonic, perhaps. A bittersweet pill, indeed. To mask it. I don’t think they were trying to improve it. It was the daily dram. You can see this through rum culture in the navy certainly. Obviously there was gin in the navy as well. It was mainly officers who were on gin and the rest of the ship would have been on rum, or brandy, depending on where they were setting sail from. The daily dramming, in terms of rations, would have been given to troops. If they were at sea, they would have been given lime cordial to avoid scurvy. And if they were on land, in the colonial era across the Raj and certainly southeast India, they would have been given quinine which, at first, came in cordial form. It would be like a dark brown, syrupy, ridiculously bitter thing to put down your throat. Later, the compounds were isolated and it became pills and you have quinine pills. That has carried on today to malaria tablets which are still, essentially, quinine in massive concentration. So they were given the booze alongside this medicine as part of the daily dramming. It was helpful to mask the vile taste of quinine in the morning. There are amazing photos of this online. If you look on Ginfoundry.com at the colonial gin and tonic—it’s in the cocktail section—there are photos of the daily dramming on the left hand side where these troops in the 1900s were getting their rations every morning. You would stand to attention, fall in line, and get a quart. Yes. It was found in Peru, in particular. Going on the engravings, it was the Incas who gave quinine to science and the Jesuits. You can track it to South America, and then it was propagated in Indonesia predominantly by the Dutch, and then into Africa. Yes, which is why quinine seeds were absolute gold dust. The South Americans tried to ban their export. To get quinine seeds and smuggle them out of the country was quite an ordeal. There are a lot of good history tales about captains and adventurers who did just that to be able to propagate the seeds elsewhere. Colonialization would not have happened without quinine. Kew Gardens have amazing books on their role in helping propagate quinine into areas that were closer to where the troops were, as opposed to having to ship it all the way across the world. By World War I, and even as late on as World War II, when the colonial era was coming to an end, it was in Indonesia that most of the plants had been propagated from their origin in south America. That was the Thirty Years War . At that time, the Brits and the Dutch were both Protestant countries fighting against the Catholics. It was noted that the Dutch would drink out of their flasks and this would give them a certain courage in the face of battle. That became known as ‘Dutch courage.’ Whether it was jenever or brandy that was being consumed at the time by the Dutch, no one really knows. But certainly when William of Orange came to the UK and popularised jenever and started increasing domestic consumption and production of alcohol and—in our case—gin, that ‘Dutch courage’ came to be associated with gin. You’d drink it before battle and it would either numb the pain of what was about to happen or it would numb the senses to the fear of going to what was, essentially, certain death at that point."