In pre-war Austria, Maximilian Kammerling ran a confectionery business in Vienna. His factory produced sweets and chocolates, including herbal cough lozenges. At 54, he perished in Auschwitz with his wife, Marie and middle child, Ruthi, who was 23.
He had managed to send his eldest child, Erica, to safety in England on a domestic work permit. At 17, Ruthi had been too young for the work permit, and too old to qualify for the Kindertransport that saved the life of their son, Walter, then 15.
Maximilian’s recipes died with him and Walter, now 94 years old, is the only member of the Kammerling family who remembers his father’s confectionery. Walter and his children didn’t follow in Maximilian’s footsteps but perhaps his skills have been passed down the generations to great grandson, Alex Kammerling, the creator of Kamm & Sons, the first British aperitif.
“He said it tasted just like a herbal cough lozenge my great grandfather used to make for him when he was sick as a child” says Alex.
Alex founded Kamm & Sons in 2010 and the business is a family affair. Brother Michael worked with Alex to design the bottle labels, and father and mother Peter and Corinne Kammerling, distil gin (to Alex’s recipe) in a shed, containing a licensed distillery, at the bottom of their Weybridge garden.
Peter — a former industrial engineer and business consultant who also invested in the business — and Corinne are very hands on. “I have a general level of awareness of what goes on in a manufacturing environment, so I felt my role could be in making sure the logistics worked.”
Alex, who trained as an artist, had been in the drinks industry for 24 years: “I started my career as an artist and tended bars to pay for my studio rent” explains the 43 year old, who grew up in Bournemouth.
A stint in the early 1990s working for top flight bar tender Dick Bradsell (credited as the inventor of the Espresso Martini and the Bramble cocktails) was Alex’s intro into the bartending world. He rose in the industry, writing cocktail columns for magazines, a BBC cocktail recipe book and at different points representing brands like Grey Goose vodka and Martin Miller gin.
“I was working on other people’s brands and thought I should work on one for myself” says Alex. “I started tinkering around with botanicals and making infusions with various leaves, barks and berries, macerating them in alcohol to extract their flavours and blending them to find a recipe I liked.” After five years of development he was happy.
He was helped in his work by a condition called synaesthesia. When he eats a berry he sees purple. A zesty orange or lemon makes him see orange and light green. His condition (or maybe super power) means he tastes in technicolour.
“I have it mildly, and use colour to help me define certain categories of flavours. For example, earthy flavours are browns, sepias and ochres, berries are purples, fuschias are burgundy and citrus is yellow, orange and light green.”
Other synesthetes may taste sounds, smell colours or see scents. The aperitif, which Alex describes as somewhere between Pimm’s, Tanqueray and Campari, and can be drunk over ice or in cocktails and includes 45 herbs, spices, fruits, berries, nuts, peels, barks, roots, leaves and flowers. They include grapefruit peel, ginseng, juniper berries, echinacea, Manuka honey and fennel seeds.
Neither Peter nor Corinne are synesthetes (although Peter says they are a foodie family and that Corinne loves to cook) so they follow Alex’s recipe to the letter, weighing up the botanicals (the herbs and spices which give the drink its distinctive flavour), macerating them (by warming them gently in alcohol) to tease out the essence from each one.
Alex has since created a second drink, his own recipe of gin, branded Mr Kamms — another drink full of flavours that fill his vision with a whole spectrum of colours.
“At one point, Alex was going to call the gin ‘kaleidoscope’ or ‘technicolour’, but we thought people may expect a colourful gin” says Peter.
When others may be taking it easy, they are occupied several days a week. “It’s quite physically hard as the quantities we are working with are large, but it’s fascinating, and immensely satisfying” says Peter, who produces 60 bottles of gin twice a week.
The North Surrey synagogue members then bottle it, stick on labels and heat seal the caps. It is then packed into boxes and sent to distributors. They do this twice a week — and they don’t even drink.
“Our family and all of our synagogue friends are fascinated” laughs Peter. “When we show them they are gobsmacked that this 60-something couple are legitimately distilling gin! We’ll be at a mate’s wedding this week and we’re taking a bottle of our own gin. And we can say we’ve done it all — it’s actually very satisfying.”
Perhaps Maximilian’s legacy has also been his great-grandson’s flare for flavour.
