Just the tonic: why it’s more than a mixer

3 hours ago 6

If a tonic is something that “makes you feel stronger and happier”, my tonics come in the form of good wine, bad chocolate and an ageing whippet called Ernie. Recently, though, I’ve found myself craving the OG tonic – tonic water – which started life as a malaria treatment in the age of the British empire.

In the 17th century, Jesuit missionaries brought quinine, a bitter compound found in the bark of American cinchona trees, to Europe. They knew that indigenous people had been using it to treat fevers, and by the 1700s it was routinely being used as an antimalarial in tropical colonies. But there was a snag: quinine is unpalatable. To offset its impossible bitterness, it was combined with water and sugar to make a drink that enabled those stationed in the tropics to self-medicate every day. By the Victorian times, that self-medication had taken on a different aspect; not only had tonic water become fizzy, but it was routinely combined with gin for a drink now emblematic of the British Raj.

So tonic water is nothing new. But it is having a moment, and partly because collectively we have acquired a taste for bitter drinks. The Waitrose Food and Drink Report 2025/2026 heralded tonic as “the new gin”, acknowledging that it now comes in a plethora of flavour profiles – each with different “notes”, as people might talk about the profiles of different gins – and also that it is increasingly consumed on its own, without any gin at all. I can vouch for this latter point. Not being much of a gin drinker (I can’t explain it), G&Ts have always been a bit lost on me, but neat tonic has become my thirst-quencher of choice. Or, perhaps, with Campari/vermouth/dry sherry/a few drops of bitters.

Tonic is more grown-up than lemonade, more interesting than fizzy water, and there is something chic about cracking open your own mini tinny. Format is important, though, and I’m sure this is another reason for tonic water 2.0. Small, single-serve cans popularised by market leader Fever-Tree make for a fresher, fizzier drink.

Generally speaking, I have a taste for lighter tonics (i.e. those with less sugar) because I enjoy the bitterness. I’m not sure there’s much between them, but I’m a stickler for semantics, and prefer to be identified as a drinker of “light” rather than “slimline” or, worse, “skinny” tonics, which are patronisingly marketed towards women. And then there are sweet, flavoured numbers, a far cry from the bitter tonics which have won my heart. Grapefruit and rosemary (London Essence ), pink citrus (Artisan) and rhubarb and raspberry (Fever-Tree) ... I do love San Pellegrino’s more complex Oakwood Tonic, though: a tonic of a tonic if ever there was one.