The message basically reads, “Would you like to join us for some gin?” The answer, of course is, “Yes I would, thank you very much.” This is my response even before I’ve learned that it’s the launch of Oxley gin, the first ever cold-distilled spirit on the planet. Okay, now it’s locked in, written into the day-planner in biro. You had me at ‘gin.’

After struggling through a series of wind-tunnels between financial buildings, feeling not unlike a modern day Winnie the Pooh (Blustery Day anyone?) and after receiving a couple of different sets of wrong directions from overly assertive alpha males who clearly lack the intellectual security to admit that, “I’m sorry, I have no idea where that is,” I manage to navigate my way to Vertical on the mezzanine floor of 1st Canadian Place. The hostess stows my coat and excess baggage and I’m directed towards the gin - although I feel that my homing instincts would’ve led me there anyway. Swiftly a gin-based cocktail is placed in my hand — it’s exactly what I need — thirst-quenching, acidic with good astringency, but allowing plenty of room for the Oxley gin to shine through.

After a brief bit of chat and low-level banter with those around me Jamie, our host and fellow Brit, begins his presentation on the product - but not before everyone is handed an ounce of room-temperature, unadorned gin - as naked as the day it was born (or cold-distilled). Always a fan a of liquor in its natural state — something I harped on Story about in the early days of TORO’s online inception — I feel completely in my element, perhaps even a little giddy, like an adolescent boy reunited during recess with the girl he loves. Or, more accurately, like a displaced Englishman with a gin obsession.

In a casual, ineffable manner Jamie takes us through the distillation process, complete with digital presentation, flow charts and semi-incomprehensible graphs depicting the varying peaks of flavour. What with the continual flow of delicious canapés and Oxley gin this becomes the greatest 10th grade science lesson of my life — and there’s no pressure to succeed and no homework as far as I’m aware.

Amidst the feast I manage to garner the knowledge that the good people of Oxley spent a considerable amount of time (eight years) and money developing the technology that enabled them to create the booze I’m so casually sipping. One can’t help but imbibe away with a renewed zeal when considering what a tremendous effort has been made to bring the spirit into life.

Next up we’re served an Oxley martini of sorts, sans vermouth, with a simple grapefruit twist. Maybe I’ve been watching too much Mad Men, but I feel that this is a cocktail that Don Draper would approve of. It’s like a man’s Greyhound — all the aromatics without any of the nonsense. Jamie even serves it with a specially designed ice-cube, which I’m not even going to pretend I understand the logic behind, although apparently it chills the drink without diluting it as much — which sounds good to me.

We crack on with a version of a Negroni — one of my personal favourites. In this twist the sweet vermouth is substituted for Montenegro and the Campari for Aperol, with an equal part Oxley gin to finish off the triumvirate. This cocktail knocks it out of the park and I have a couple more, passing over something with cacao in it — which the ladies seem to enjoy.

Now I’m on a roll and, fueled by the gin, I spend the next 45 minutes harassing Jamie for being from Chelsea, which, if you understand anything about London’s geography, is completely warranted. Although with his gin I cannot find fault.