I had promised Quinn Cummings an overview of how to make home-made tonic (as opposed to buying it in small precious cans or small even-more-precious bottles). @quinncy

By way of explanation, we are enormous fans of gin. Where others have liquor cabinets, we have a gin cabinet. (And there are backup resources not currently pictured).

My drink of choice is a Churchillian martini (so named, because the great man's preferred recipe was to pour the gin whilst staring at the unopened bottle of vermouth on the bar). And yes, that essentially means 3 oz of cold gin in a glass. Don't judge.

But: to the tonics, and how I got to making it. As you'll have already noted, there are many gins on tap in our household. So the inevitable question, when deciding one toasty summer day to have a G&T instead, was "I wonder what the best gin is for a G&T?"

And therein lies the rabbit hole, because apparently that's the wrong question. You should instead be asking, "what's the best tonic?" So here's the thing. Fever Tree is delightful. Not cheap, but delightful.

Schweppes makes a perfectly serviceable G&T, and I have enjoyed many of the same, if you are travelling to (or living in) the UK. But Schweppes in North America is far sweeter. Because apparently we're supposed to like it that way.

And so, after a modest amount of Google searching on tonics and gins and ways to combine them, I came across the assertion that the far best tonic by far is the one you make yourself. Challenge accepted.

If you search on how to do this, there is one recipe making the rounds of the interwebz as the definitive, all-knowing, all-seeing recipe. It involves cooking your citrus fruits. It also involves a lot of allspice.

What that means is that you get a cocktail with stewed fruits, that tastes far more like an overcooked Christmas drink that your weird uncle Harold makes every year and everyone politely sips until they can get to the bar.

Another experiment that I found after a great deal of searching suggested cold-brewing your tonic. Yup, just like your coffee. And this is the magic approach. Citrus tastes like citrus. And quinine tastes of quinine. And you start to get to something actually like tonic.

But first, we need to explain quinine. It comes from cinchona bark. Which is a tree way off in South America somewhere. And so, to make tonic, you must find cinchona. I have one source of supply, which is a truly hippy naturopathic store in downtown Toronto. YMMV.

And if you are going down this rabbit hole, get cinchona bark, not cinchona powder. Because cinchona powder is incredibly fine, and can clog up a coffee filter in no time flat. Given that you will be filtering what you produce, this is a VERY IMPORTANT THING. Thank me later.

This is a process that rewards patience. You want to let the tonic steep in the fridge for a period of days. Three if you're impatient. Five is good. Use a one litre mason jar, or something similar, where you can shake with impunity (without fear of spraying quinine everywhere).

1/4 cup cinchona, 1/4 cup citric acid, zests of 2 limes and juice of 1, zest of 1 lemon and juice of 1/2, zest of 1 orange, 3 stalks of chopped lemongrass, 4 allspice berries, 10 crushed cardamom pods, 12 juniper berries, 1 tbsp lavender, 1/4 tsp salt. Top up with water to 1l.

Shake that puppy twice daily. Watch it take on a weird terra cotta hue. Realize that real quinine is NOT clear. Ask yourself just what was in all that tonic you poured out of cans that was completely clear. Be curious about what is going to come out of this experiment.

After day five, dump the mess through a seive to get out the big stuff. Run it through cheesecloth about three times to get out the finer big stuff. Then it's time for the coffee filters. If you started with bark, you'll need around four. If you got the powder, you'll need 40.

What you are left with is pure, essential tonic. Bitter as all get out. So to this add rich simple syrup (one cup sugar and 1/2 a cup water, mixed together over medium heat; if you think you can handle the bitter, you might do a regular simple syrup. I've not been that brave).

Congratulations. You've now made your first tonic syrup. To get to actual gin and tonic: fill highball glass with ice, add 2 oz gin, 3/4 oz tonic syrup and 2 oz of sparkling water. Squeeze and drop in a wedge of lime. Enjoy.

Ah, but what gin, you ask? Excellent question. I though this recipe worked with Tanqueray (it's competent, worth the effort, but not otherworldly). Make it with Star of Bombay, though, and choirs of angels will sing from your glass. Regular Bombay will do in a pinch.

And that's where the rabbit hole gets deep and long. You can make tonics to pick up and amplify notes of your gin. Got a floral gin? Maybe throw in some honeysuckle and chamomile. Got some spice? Let's go for cloves, shall we? With a few more cardamom pods. Maybe star of anise.

This is where I get in to mad-scientist mode. It allows me to legitimately and plausibly taste-test gin in the middle of the afternoon (research, you know). And justify several mason jars at any given time, to see what works and what doesn't.

If the experiment doesn't work with the gin you thought it should, try it with another. You'll be surprised what comes out, and what fades away. Worse comes to worse, you've wasted a little produce and some space in your fridge. Worse things can happen.

Base essentials of any tonic are 1/4 cup of cinchona, 1/4 cup of citric acid. I'd always do at least zest and juice of one lime, and generally zest of a lemon. After that, fill your boots. What do you want to bring out in the gin? What tastes can you coax out with a little help?

Here endeth the tweets. But not the experimentation.