From Bush Pepper to Barrel Dreams: Sydney Spirits Festival 2025 Uncorked.

If most festivals are about spectacle, the 2025 Sydney Spirits Festival was about substance - the kind that burns gently in the chest and lingers long after the final sip. Held at the sun-drenched Overseas Passenger Terminal, with the Opera House watching from across the harbour like a silent patron saint of indulgence, this wasn’t merely an event. It was a liquid symposium. A gathering of makers, shakers, and the sort of drinkers who read tasting notes the way others read poetry.

More than 50 distillers - from the revered to the rogue - brought their finest bottles and boldest personalities. And yes, the ticket may have promised three hours of unlimited samples, but what it delivered was something far more intoxicating: a global anthology in glass. Each pour was a postcard, a provocation, a tiny manifesto.

The Distillers Who Stirred the Soul (and the Palate)

Let’s be clear: anyone can pour a drink. Not everyone can pour presence. But a few distillers delivered not just liquid but theatre - each stall a stage, each bottle a performance.

When you find the gin that finally gets you - and suddenly life’s just one big, joyful Gindu dance

Gindu

Equal parts pun and provocation, Gindu is the gin that winked and rebuttoned its blazer before pouring. Bursting with native botanicals like bush pepper and river mint, this Australian upstart turned even the most stoic gin traditionalists into botanical believers. A distillate of mischief with structure - like Oscar Wilde in a hiking boot.

Old Kempton Distillery

Housed in a restored 1840s coaching inn, Old Kempton is whisky with soul and stitching. Their Solera Cask was rich with toffee, citrus peel, and quiet gravitas - an elegant sip that unspooled like a fireside confession. Each dram felt hand-bound, aged not just in oak but in heritage.

Prohibition Liquor Co

Dressed in apothecary bottles and smirking from their speakeasy pastiche, Prohibition’s gins were anything but gimmicky. Their Blood Orange Gin was a standout - bright, sultry, and just a little dangerous. If this gin were a person, it would quote Wilde, wear velvet, and disappear before dessert.

Starward

Melbourne’s Starward drew the kind of crowds that suggest cult status. Their wine-cask-aged whiskies were a masterclass in balance and bravado. Nova brought cherry cola charm and spice box swagger, while Fortis leaned into brooding richness with red velvet depth. It’s whisky made for the spotlight - but never trying too hard to be seen.

Willing Distillery

Straight out of Darwin, Willing was a tropical fever dream. Their Monsoon Gin, infused with stormy botanicals, drank like a wet season romance - sudden, lush, unforgettable. Less polite than others, and all the better for it.

The Lark Ascending: A Toast to the Godfather

Of course, no visit to the Sydney Spirits Festival would be complete without a pilgrimage to the altar of Bill Lark.

Meet the man who turned a spark by the campfire into a national whisky revolution - Bill Lark, Tasmania’s finest export since, well, whisky itself.

Back in the 1980s, Bill Lark was just a Tasmanian bloke with a fly rod and a dream. When he realised his island’s pristine climate, barley, and water were going to waste under outdated distilling laws, he didn’t just sigh and move on - he changed the law. In 1992, Lark Distillery opened, and Australian whisky as we know it was born.

Bill’s festival masterclass was less a tasting and more a reverent meditation. His lineup read like a whisky novella:

Lark Chinotto Cask: Finished in casks once holding bitter-sweet Chinotto, this expression danced between citrus and cola in a waltz of complex sweetness. A Negroni in tweed.

Dark Lark: The gothic cousin, aged in sherry and port casks, rich with chocolate, espresso, and smoky embers. A whisky for rainy nights and stolen glances.

Classic Cask: The original - vanilla, fruitcake, and everything nice. It’s Sunday dinner distilled.

Mizunara Oak Cask: A meditation in a bottle. A fusion of Japanese oak and Tasmanian restraint - sandalwood, coconut, cream, and philosophy.

But beyond the tasting notes, Lark’s real legacy is confidence: he gave Australians permission to believe in their own whisky. And now, with the likes of Starward, Old Kempton, and Morris following, it’s a legacy that shows no signs of slowing.

Tacos, Tannins & Tequila: The Extras That Made It Matter

The spirits may have taken centre stage, but the supporting cast shone just as brightly.

Little Birria’s tacos? Emotional support in edible form.

Gatto’s cannoli? Sicilian whispers of joy.

Pocket Rocketz turned dumplings and prawn ceviche into performance art.

Schibello kept the crowd caffeinated with biscotti-fuelled espresso interludes.

And let’s not forget the oyster-slurping, gin-swirling glamour of the Hickson House masterclass, or Ester Spirits’ cocktail remix session that felt more like a jazz gig.

So What Was It Really Like?

Picture this: You’re sipping Tasmanian whisky aged in Japanese oak, watching the Opera House glow through a haze of citrus mist and juniper vapour. Next to you, a distiller in cuffed jeans and a wild grin is explaining the difference between agave and ambition. Your tote bag is dangerously full. Your palate is in overdrive. You weren’t just drinking - you were collecting stories.

In its very essence, this wasn’t a chaotic booze-fest. This was a curated, charismatic playground for the curious, the connoisseurs, and the quietly thirsty. Every stall had a story. Every sip, a signature. Whether you fell for Starward’s wine-bar elegance, Gindu’s bushranger charm, or Old Kempton’s dusty-soul warmth, the 2025 Sydney Spirits Festival proved one thing:

The art of drink on terra australis is alive and very, very well.

It was a love letter written in juniper and oak, sealed with a dram, and delivered with a wink.

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Words by AW.

Photos courtesy of AW.