We humans are a species of relationship, of connection. To each other. To the world. To nature. We need wild. It speaks to our soul.

Foraged berries

Wild. Local. Seasonal. Foraged.

These are words we have begun to associate with some of the world’s most innovative chefs – Renee Redzepi, Magnus Nilsson, David Chang, the Cook it Raw experimentalists and many others – chefs who are looking into the cycles of nature for their ingredients rather than towards a shop or supplier.

Perhaps simply to try something new. To make something theirs. To challenge themselves. Perhaps from a yearning for connection. Perhaps the desire to paint with fresh colours. Perhaps for thrill. For discovery. For passion. For inspiration. To connect. For fun. Or just because. We each have our own reasons.

To create The Botanist we also reach for the wild.

Our inspiration comes from Islay, our wild, fertile, Hebridean island home on the west coast of Scotland.

To create The Botanist we also reach for the wild.

Our inspiration comes from Islay, our wild, fertile, Hebridean island home on the west coast of Scotland.

James Donaldson

These 22 are our contribution.

They are no prescription. They speak of our place, of our seasons, of our spirit. The Botanist is then  a manifestion of our island home.

Of the botanists who go out into its landscape and of the distillers who coax the delicate spirit into being. But this is just the starting point of the botanical journey.

We create the spirit. But you create the drinks.

We invite you to Join our movement

Kate foraging in the woods

We have been working with wonderful people – inspired and progressive bartenders such as Thomas Aske and Ally Kelsay, forager and foraging tutor Mark Williams, chefs Craig Grozier and Jack Buchanan to name just a few. Together we explore and taste the landscapes of our island home; city parks and canals, railroads and roadsides around the UK. We have been exploring the boundaries where wild, foraging, food and drinks merge.

And we invite you to join us – this starts in our own backyards.

Muddy boots, dirty fingernails, untrodden paths, familiar dog walking routes, parks, commons, roadsides, gardens, hedgerows, sea shores, riverbanks. A sprig of window-box mint, garden apple blossom, fresh picked seaweed, dropped into a Botanist and Tonic.

We embrace it all. Every idea is a new box being opened, a new story being written.

There are no ‘signature serves’ for The Botanist because foraging is about creativity and it begins at home.


Ten thousand short years ago, foraging was the only way of life for everybody and everything.


Millions of years of human development had passed before a group of people started to settle into one place and plant the crops that would eventually fill today’s supermarkets. Until the industrial revolution turned us into city dwellers, we would have routinely searched the woods, hedgerows, riverbanks and seashores to add sustenance, seasonal variety and flavour to our farmed food.

Defying the modern world, some of us have continued to forage, not perhaps because we need to, but because it is exciting.

The hunting instinct is alive and, once re-energised, kicks hard inside us. The idea of wild food, ‘Food for Free’ as Richard Mabey memorably called it, still resonates.

A few of us still venture forth, perhaps to gather blackberries in autumn, or perhaps late summer field mushrooms drenched in morning dew. Fewer have the confidence to identify a chanterelle, or gather watercress from the water’s edge or taste young birch leaves in spring – but change is in the air.

The Botanist Tour

Learn all about gin! It’s history, production, the botanicals, visit the gin still then back to the shop for tastings including two cocktails which you make yourself!

There is opportunity and inspiration everywhere – in every city park and along every country lane.


Small, but dedicated groups of bartenders are reaching back into the wild world to rediscover the rich palate of flavours forgotten while our raw senses have been cocooned in the bland homogeneity of industrialised packet food.  Many great chefs too now develop their ideas, and construct their menus, around wild, yet readily foraged flavours and sensory experiences that have been ignored for but a few short generations.

There is opportunity and inspiration everywhere – in every city park and along every country lane. We can join them, either by recognising their foraged mixology skills and supporting their work as we play, or perhaps by looking at our local hedgerows and gardens in a different light.  Foraging can change the way we perceive the world, change the way we walk down the street.  A drink need never be the same again.


The distillation of The Botanist is a slow, slow process…

Distilling the botanist

The temperature of the spirit in the still is increased until it is hand hot. Literally hand hot. It is tested by hand until it feels right – no thermometers are used.

Then the core botanicals are manually loaded into the pot of the still in a particular order, and spread using rakes to form a sort of mat that sits on the surface of the liquid. They are then steeped for twelve hours before the steam pressure is increased again to simmering point and the vapours start to rise up the neck of the heavily modified vessel.

The rising vapours first hit a cluster of 85 small bore copper pipes in the neck which provide a massively increased surface area of copper, a powerful cleansing agent. It then hits a water box at the head of the still which cools the vapours and causes a reflux of any heavy oils that have escaped the copper.

Only the purest and lightest vapours turn through 90 degrees and enter the lyne arm into which the casket containing the Islay botanicals is built.

The island botanicals are held in loosely woven muslin sacks through which the vapour can easily pass, but even at this stage there is a reflux pipe that returns any heavier condensed spirit to the neck of the still.

The final stage of the journey is down the long shell tube condenser and into The Botanist’s own unique spirit safe, from which the stillman takes the samples to determine the precious middle cut.

“An oversized, upside-down dustbin made of copper”

Tom Morton, “Spirit of Adventure”

Developed after the Second World War, the Lomond was an experimental cross between a column and a pot still designed to meet the growing demand for single malts.

Our Lomond still

The Lomond Still was designed as a cunning “one-stop-shop” still by chemical engineer Alistair Cunningham and draftsman Arthur Warren in the 1950s, neither of whom can have been great aesthetes – as a way to create a variety of whisky styles. Key to the design was the ugly, thick, column-like neck. This could have three extra removable sections inserted for flexibility, imitating the effect of different still “neck” lengths.

One section housed three rectifying plates, or baffles, that increased or decreased the reflux action. These plates, like Roman blinds, could be opened in varying degrees from a horizontal to the vertical position. Correspondingly, the removable neck sections could lengthen or shorten the height of the neck, thus varying the angle of the lyne arm – upward for a slightly lighter whisky, downward for a heavier one.

The first Lomond still, an 11,600 litre capacity spirit still built by Ramsden, was installed in 1959 at Inverleven.

This was a functional single malt distillery shoe-horned in to a utilitarian red brick building, tucked away in a corner of the huge Dumbarton grain distillery complex, at the confluence of the Clyde and Leven rivers.

Recovered by Duncan MacGillivray when Inverleven was scrapped, the still was transported down the Clyde by barge, around the Mull of Kintyre and finally to Islay, where it berthed at Port Ellen before making its last journey to Bruichladdich.

Inspiration. How does it come about? When did our former master distiller Jim McEwan realise that this extraordinarily ugly copper tub had the potential to distil such a sublime, delicate gin? Perhaps it was his realisation that it was designed to run slowly, at low pressure; designed to be modified; designed with the distiller’s creativity woven into the very fabric of its structure.

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