Slake

Small-batch ginger soda. Pressed root, charred skins, carbonated cold. Thirty-eight grams of ginger in every 250 ml bottle, and it tastes like it.

Slake

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Thirty-eight grams of fresh ginger in a bottle you can hold in one hand.

Most ginger beer is sugar water with a ginger smell. Slake is pressed root: the fibrous, throat-catching kind, juiced the day it’s bottled. The skins go over an open flame until they blacken, then steep back in for the smoke.

It’s a burn you feel behind your ears. That’s not a flaw we’re working on.

In every 250 ml bottle

Fresh ginger, pressed
38 g
Charred ginger skins, steeped
6 g
Cane sugar
14 g
Lime, juiced
½
Spring water, carbonated
to 250 ml

Nothing else. No extract, no “natural flavours”, no preservatives. Keep it cold and drink it within the month.

  1. 0.0s

    Ginger hits the tongue. Sharp, not sweet. You think you’ve got the measure of it.

  2. 1.5s

    The heat blooms. Back of the throat first, then somewhere near your ears.

  3. 3.0s

    You reach for the glass again. It’s the only way out, and you know it.

  4. 4.0s

    Cold. The burn’s still there. It just has somewhere to go now.

It burns. Then it doesn’t.

Poured over ice at two degrees, the ginger has to push through the cold to reach you. It still does. It just finishes clean.

Serve at two degrees. Colder than feels reasonable.

Chill the bottle, not the glass. Pour over big ice, the kind that doesn’t rush. The condensation running down the bottle is the whole point: the colder it is, the further the ginger has to travel, and the cleaner it finishes.

Neat is the honest way. With mezcal is the popular way. We don’t argue with either.

250 ml
Brown glass, crown cap. One serving, no second-guessing.
2 °C
The serving temperature the recipe was built for. Warmer, and the sugar shows.
Five things
Ginger, charred skins, cane sugar, lime, spring water. The label is the recipe.

People, mid-sip. Nobody was ready.

A bearded man in a vest, sunglasses pushed up on his head, holding a glass and staring at the camera with his mouth open.

Nobody told me. I took a normal-sized sip like it was a normal-sized drink.

Tomas, Rotterdam

Close crop of a woman drinking from a tall glass full of ice, eyes down, mid-sip.

Second bottle’s the one. The first bottle you’re just finding out.

Priya, Singapore

A woman drinking from a bottle with her eyes closed, sitting right in front of a large metal desk fan.

It was thirty-four degrees. I had a bottle in front of the fan and honestly it fixed both problems.

Léa, Marseille

A man in a white t-shirt against a blue corrugated wall, drinking from a glass bottle through a straw, one eyebrow raised.

Straw was a mistake. Straw puts it straight on the back of your throat.

Dan, Leeds

A man with a backpack drinking from a bottle in front of a weathered concrete wall on a hot street.

Walked forty minutes in Bangkok heat for the one shop that had it. Would do it again. Won’t tell you which shop.

Kenji, Osaka

A laughing woman holding a glass of amber drink with a straw, in front of a painted wall.

Over ice with too much lime. My whole face went hot, and then it was the best thing I’d drunk all summer.

Ana, Lisbon

A woman outdoors in the heat, eyes closed, one hand on her forehead, a bottle in the other.

Fair warning: the burn turns up about a second after you think you’ve got away with it.

Marta, Warsaw

A young woman on a beach at sunset, backlit, drinking from a bottle with her hair blowing across her face.

Drank one on the beach at sunset and then stopped talking for a bit.

Nia, Cape Town

A case is twelve. That’s about a week.

S$48 a case, delivered. Twelve 250 ml bottles, packed cold, sent the day they’re bottled.

Bars and shops: order the same way and say so in the email. We’ll come back with the trade sheet.

We send one payment link and nothing else.

One to twenty. More than that, email us first.