Gin is not as complicated as you'd think. "Basically, gin is infused vodka," explains Andrew Friedman of Liberty, site of our blind gin taste test. The "infused" bit is key, however. What your gin gets infused with and in what quantities—these things are what create the difference between a "smells like a hillbilly truck" reaction and a "smells like a spring meadow" reaction (both of which were achieved by the gins under consideration).

You probably know gin as a staple of the old-school martini. It's far more old-school than the martini, though—old enough to have been used (not very effectively but probably soothingly) to fight Europe's "black death" in the 14th century. At its most basic, gin is distilled spirits spiked with the essence of juniper berries, a concoction that, when you close your eyes, might make you think of England. If it doesn't, it should, because gin is very much associated with the British Empire. The colonialists needed to keep the malaria at bay while they were stealing resources from far-off lands, but (poor dears) they found their antimalaria medicine, quinine, to be unappealingly bitter. So they took to pouring quinine into their gin along with a splash of tonic water—there, that's better.

"London Dry Gin," with its strong currents of citrus, eventually became a standard of refined palates, and gin and tonics, worldwide. More recently, according to Friedman, a new "western style" of gin-making has emerged ("western" meaning primarily the Western United States and its local distilling boom). Less fussily purist, more open to infusions of whatever's aromatic and in season, a number of these western-style gins were put up against a classic of the genre, with reactions from tasters that ranged from "innocuous" to "Pow!"

Washington Dry Gin from Dry Fly Distilling, Spokane: There is a muscular and defiant tone to the Dry Fly marketing video—"Dry Fly does not back down from any challenge... We are ready to kick ass and take names... We will go up against any brand, anywhere, any time... This is TRUTH in alcohol manufacturing"—and some of that feisty spirit is certainly present in Dry Fly's Washington Dry Gin, which was mistaken by many, many tasters to be tequila because of its sweetness and fiery kick. "Smells and tastes like tequila," said one. "Does not really taste like a gin," said another.

Licorice and anise were detected, and for some this tipped over into a "soapy" quality, which is obviously not good. For others, it went in the "too sweet" direction. One just said, "Disgusting."

Someone else detected "cucumber." That person was alone, however. Dry Fly lost the taste test by a wide (and sometimes angry) margin.

Plymouth Gin from Pernod Ricard SA, everywhere: "Clear," "neutral," and calling to mind "a pine grove" and "an independent woman" (pleasingly misheard by one taster as "an independent Mormon"), this well-regarded titan of the gin establishment produced solid scores and many variations on the idea of "gentle." (One woman deemed it her "mellow fellow," another called it "gentle Ginny.") Plymouth was the gin that people could most easily imagine in a martini, which is probably to say that it is the gin most tasters had already had in a martini. Its name dates back to 1793, it was once the official drink of Britain's Royal Navy—which ordered barrels of it in "navy strength"—and its current manufacturer is the giant French conglomerate Pernod Ricard.

Some people thought they tasted green apple, one person picked up a "hint of spice," and another person experienced "a confident bite." But mostly the reaction to Plymouth could be summed up as follows: "pretty legit," "not offensive," and "fine." "As a person who doesn't like gin," declared a vodka martini drinker, "I think I could drink this and not freak out."

Ebb + Flow from Sound Spirits Distillery, Seattle: Pitched by its creators as having a "rich balance" of herbs, citrus, and spice, Ebb + Flow Gin was immediately declared by a taster from Alaska to be "what I would drink if I was gonna rob a car." Asked whether that meant the entire car or just some of its contents, the taster replied: "Either way." This was the brand that produced the "smells like a hillbilly truck" reaction. Also: "Like a fire that you set with kerosene." But other drinkers, perhaps with more weathered taste buds, found this crime-inspiring mouth-burner to be "kind of minty."

The middle ground reaction was that Ebb + Flow was "a tough tease" in that it "smelled good, but burned." Perhaps this was simply the intended ebb and the flow?

"So far my favorite," said one taster, floating on the ebb. Then, while in the flow: "Maybe not."

"Ow!" said another, reacting to its "harsh bite."

Yet another: "End kicks in the balls."

The Jekyll-and-Hyde-ness of this gin also triggered immediate scary-uncle-related flashbacks in at least two tasters. One recalled an uncle who drove around with a bottle of whiskey stashed between his legs, while another recalled a great-uncle who was a World War II veteran and sat menacingly silent in his recliner.

Positive reactions were along the lines of "Lively as shit."

Hedge Trimmer from Sun Liquor Distillery, Seattle: There was something very polite and well-scrubbed about this gin. "Like a proper lady," said one taster. "Very safe and sheltered." It was declared "hygienic," it evoked "a baby's bottom," it had "a less distracting scent," it was "nice and subtle," it was "smooth, light, crisp."

The downside of this: "Bland."

But there is a not inconsiderable upside to a gin that declines to prance about and wave a million spices and aromatics in your face: "Martini," as one person put it, making the succinct point that a proper martini involves a gin that plays well with others (others being vermouth and olives, if you're being proper).

There was talk of some "back-of-tongue bite" to Hedge Trimmer, and this offended a few (while entrancing the sadists). But those who really enjoyed this gin were ably represented by the taster who wrote, "I hope to see you soon."

Voyager Dry Gin from Pacific Distillery, Woodinville: The hands-down winner of the blind taste test, Voyager is designed by the award-winning Pacific Distillery as "a gin for gin lovers," featuring "bold juniper, fresh, light citrus, and mild hints of exotic spices."

It's made using all-organic botanicals for its flavoring, it's distilled in "a hand-hammered copper alembic pot still," and it produced both the "smells like a spring meadow" reaction and the "Pow!" reaction mentioned above—as well as a designation as a "smooth operator" who, according to our tasters' gullets, comes calling with notes of roses, mint, cardamom, cinnamon, pine, clove, licorice, cilantro, and coriander.

Someone said Voyager tasted—tasted!—"like grandma's clean house," which was baffling. Another person described it as "spicy up front with a smooth behind," which corroborated the "fresh, sexy" reaction in yet another fan.

It was snowing outside, and one taster, giving Voyager an unambiguous 10, said: "I think it tastes like summer year round."

In conclusions: "First place," "most favorite," and "yes."