Why Isn't America Drinking More Genever?

Unlike its matured counterparts, gin requires no additional aging time past distillation. Thus it has become the flagship spirit for hundreds of distilleries across the country.

Shelves once were stocked with a mere handful of London drys—Beefeater, Tanqueray, Gordon's, Bombay—but bars and shops are now packed tight with newcomers flashing fancy labels and secret blends of botanicals. Almost all are fashioned after the style perfected by those renowned British houses.

Rosewater, pink peppercorns, or cucumber can make a gin different, but do these nontraditional ingredients make a gin good? "New Western dry" gins—as Aviation Gin co-creator Ryan Magarian dubbed the more botanically driven, less juniper-forward versions in 2009—eclipsed the godfather of them all, the little wallflower known as genever.

Perhaps this singular dive of misguided creativity can be blamed on the United States' ambiguous definitions for so many liquors.

While the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau (TTB) codifies 41 different types of whiskey, gin boasts three measly subsets: distilled, redistilled, and compounded. Conversely, the European Union defines the category of juniper-flavored spirits with 19 subsets of geographical origin.

Distillers almost can't be blamed for not hobbling down this foggy path of genever approval.

In fact, the definition of gin as prescribed by the US government demands that the spirit show a "main characteristic of flavor derived from juniper berries," which opposes genever's malty trademark and quietly herbal elements.

Anchor Distilling first unveiled its genever, called Genevieve, in 2007 after eight years of here-and-there experimentation and a decade after releasing its dry gin, Junipero. Brewing and small-batch distilling pioneer Fritz Maytag spent months in Holland and Belgium researching genever, returning with dozens of versions unavailable in the US then and now.

"If you didn't know what you were drinking," says Anchor's head distiller Bruce Joseph, "you'd be hard-pressed to know there were even juniper berries in it."

In its traditional form, genever— derived from the Dutch word for juniper—is distilled from malted barley, wheat, and rye in a copper pot still, either vapor-infused or macerated with a blend of botanicals. Conversely, dry gins typically employ a column still to produce a higher alcohol distillate, or neutral grain spirit, for the base. The base for genever acts more like an unaged whiskey.

Even the most recognizable genever producer, Bols, doesn't touch the word "gin" on its website, scared off by the association with neutral grain spirit.

At least one prolific bartender and author, Jacob Grier, is crusading to change the conversation away from even mentioning gin. Genever is not "Holland gin." (Not even to you, Jerry Thomas!) It is genever.

In a fit of historical fervor, Pittsburgh's Wigle Distillery skipped the dry style entirely and instead consulted a recipe from 19th-century Harrisburg, Pennsylvania's rural capital, which was settled heavily by Dutch immigrants.

"We have a lot of room for innovation and a strong focus on retaining the taste of regionality," says Jill Steiner, the director of events and public relations at Wigle, which has produced more than 40 spirits in less than four years.

Juniper is far from the dominant flavor in this malty number, ripe with rye (the primary grain in this mash bill), wheat, and, of course, malted barley.

Steiner introduces Wigle Ginever as a "gateway gin," educating consumers who are dubious of pine trees in their booze. But this is almost ten years after Anchor—now a household name among the liquor-literate—released Genevieve to fleeting fanfare.

Bottled in 2007—the same year that David Wondrich published his pivotal Imbibe!—the spirit gave bartenders seeking authenticity a viable option for cocktails like the Gibson and Martinez #1. (The alternate Martinez #2 employs Old Tom Gin, yet another clear liquor high on juniper).

Suddenly genever was in demand and available. Yet Anchor itself never made Genevieve a focal product due to the simple restraints of space and time. "We weren't in a rush to get genever out on the market," explains Joseph. Americans wanted whiskey.

The funny thing about genever is that, at its core, it is whiskey.

Whereas Anchor starts its Junipero in a column still (which distills to a higher proof and thus nullifies the inherent flavors of the grain), it uses the same pot still for both its whisky and its genever. For the latter, Joseph swaps the typical tapered head (picture an onion with an elongated top stem) for a mushroom-shaped head, wider at the top. The increased surface area promotes a more delicate spirit, one suited for botanical influence.

Genever has long suffered from both solitary representation and also fundamental misunderstanding.

Noel Catrambone, bar manager at the Dutch-Indonesian restaurant de Quay in Chicago's Lincoln Park, points a quiet finger at the lack of consumer knowledge.

"We get a lot of questions about it," says Catrambone. But de Quay has an advantage over other bars: "It's easier for us to segue into it because of our Dutch influence. Customers are used to having that conversation," he explains, adding that they are more likely to visit the restaurant knowing that genever is something to try there.

He features genever in two cocktails and as a separate category on the spirits list.

For the Dutch Uncle—which Catrambone calls a "reverse-engineered Negroni"—Peket dè Houyeu, a Belgian genever made from 100-percent malted barley, joins a fruity vermouth and the light bitter Gran Classico. Here, the genever transforms a typically dry, bitter drink into a medium-bodied sipper.

In the Deerstalker cocktail, Catrambone splits the base between the Belgian Diep9 genever and St. George's Terroir gin and adds a bold sweet vermouth, fragrant thyme, and a drop of maple syrup. "The genever totally bridges the gap between the richness of the vermouth and the earthiness of the gin. If only made with dry, [the drink] would be totally different, but this really stays with you."

Of the seven options at the very top of de Quay's spirits list—six more than offered by even the best of bars—none are produced stateside. Catrambone isn't against domestic genever (he specifically mentions the genever from Nashville-based Corsair) but has tiptoed the curious into the category with a Dutch or Belgian original.

Joseph would agree.

"It is the original gin, the starting point. But it is … different!" he laughs. "It's still a spirit that hardly any Americans know anything about."

Steiner thinks genever still has a shot.

"It's piggybacking on a really strong trend, benefiting from the investigative, curious drinker," she posits. "Do they want something exactly like everything else, or something completely different?"

Now the regulations just have to catch up.