A copper pot still on a farm outside Prince Albert. Four gins, a tasting set, and a pair of glasses worth drinking them out of.
See the bottles
The still goes on at about eight in the evening and comes off somewhere around two in the morning. That is not romance, it is physics. A copper pot still in a Karoo afternoon fights you the whole way — the condenser never gets properly cold, the run races, and you are into the tails before you have decided where the cut should be. After sunset the temperature drops fifteen degrees inside an hour and everything settles down. The run slows, the copper behaves, and you can stand at the parrot and taste your way down to the cut instead of guessing at it. We take about forty litres off in a night, four nights a week from February through to winter, and in eleven years we have never once managed to hurry it.