Distilling the “Soul” of a Landscape: How Animo Spirits Bottles the Karoo

We talk a lot about the spirit of a place, the unique energy that ancient sites or wild landscapes seem to hold. Usually, we mean it as a metaphor. But for Alaric Bouwer, founder of Animo Spirits, it’s a literal process.

He takes an agave plant – a plant that has spent over a decade absorbing the “wonderful, obstinate, and dry” character of the South African Karoo – and transforms it into a spirit.

This idea bridges the gap between science, plant folklore, and craft. As a former bartender, Alaric knows flavour. But as a distiller, he’s tapping into something older, something closer to the ancient art of herbalism (a practice many of our readers explore with herbs from partners like iHerb.com).

We sat down with Alaric to talk about the “terroir” of the Karoo, the link between distilling and medicine, and how he bottles the “Animo” (soul) of South Africa.

Tasting the Karoo: An Interview with Alaric Bouwer

Your brand story for Animo Blanco is deeply tied to the Karoo landscape. For our readers, who are very connected to concepts of “Gaia” and the spirit of the land, could you describe the “terroir” of the Karoo? What is the unique essence or energy of that place that the agave plant absorbs over its long life?

The Karoo is a way of thinking, not a place. It’s wonderful, obstinate, and dry in the “you have to earn it” sense. The land is old, the air is clear, and everything that’s left has character. Under that sun for eight to twelve years, the agave takes up minerals and fluctuations of the desert. It’s tough, a touch wild, and quietly strong when we harvest it, more of a personality than a plant. We see that kind of reluctance with every drink.

Our audience is fascinated by traditional drinks and folklore. While agave spirits are famously Mexican, you are using “traditional Mexican methods” in South Africa. Can you talk about that transference of craft? And is there any South African folklore or traditional use associated with the Karoo agave itself?

Slow-roasting, natural fermentation, and a profound regard for the agave’s chronology are ancient Mexican methods that we adopted since, to be honest, if something isn’t broken, don’t “innovate” it to death. However, the Karoo adds a South African plot twist to the tale. The agave was planted here as a resilient crop decades ago, and it is currently making a comeback. Mexico has a mythology about mezcal, but we have our own stories about farmers utilizing the fibers of agave for rope, the spines for sewing needles, and occasionally as a hangover remedy. (Unverified; nevertheless, we are currently testing that.)

You champion using “ingredients from their own backyard.” Beyond the agave in your spirit, what other indigenous South African botanicals (plants, herbs, or fynbos) do you find bartenders are using that might have traditional medicinal or ceremonial roots?

South African bartenders are like children in a herbal candy store. Buchu adds that “I just licked a mint bush” sensation, Rooibos adds a subtle sweetness, and wild dagga offers a sunset-orange color and a herbal bite. Naturally, fynbos—the local gin counterpart of juniper—is the main attraction. They make mixtures that are beneficial to the soul, if not the liver, because these plants have long been employed in traditional medicine.

The inpurespirit.com reader is interested in the entire lifecycle of plants. An agave plant matures for 8 to 12 years before it can be harvested. What does that slow, patient process teach you, and how do you feel it differentiates the final spirit from mass-produced beverages?

It’s a master education in humility to work with a plant that takes ten years to mature. You can’t fake it, and you can’t rush it either. It’s a lovely paradox that after all this effort and patience, you end up with something you can consume in three sips. That’s the magic, though. It serves as a reminder that positive things and positive vibes take time. While there is a place for instant pleasure, the Karoo tastes better.

As a former bartender, you’re an expert in flavour. Many traditional or herbal drinks are prized for their bitterness or complex, earthy notes. How do you balance preserving the authentic, “wild” taste of indigenous botanicals with the need to create a cocktail that is palatable and enjoyable for a modern consumer?

Like rock bands, wild flavors sound best when there is some control over the mayhem. With smooth bases, citrus edges, and a little balance, we preserve the genuine earthy, smoky notes of native botanicals while giving them a platform on which to perform. I usually say that you can educate a wild flavor to dance with ice without having to domesticate it.

You speak about twisting classics like the Negroni or Old Fashioned. Could you share an example of a “South African twist” you’ve seen that truly captures this philosophy? Perhaps one that uses a local botanical that would surprise our readers?

The Karoo Old Fashioned is one of my favorites; substitute honeybush syrup for the sugar cube and add a dash of fynbos bitters. Like your grandfather ordering oat milk while sporting a linen shirt, it’s both familiar and entirely new. With a decidedly South African attitude, it retains that Old Fashioned soul.

The name “Animo” means spirit or soul. What was the personal journey or “spirit” that drove you from being a bartender, serving other people’s creations, to founding Animo Spirits and creating your own?

I’ve been pouring drinks that told stories for years, and now I get to bottle my own. Animo means “spirit” or “soul,” which seemed appropriate given that launching this brand was a calling rather than a financial decision. Something that spoke of my home, my land, and a little bit of my own stubbornness was what I wanted to make. In addition, I finally had enough of recommending someone else’s bottle and saying, “You should try this.”

In your view, what is the most misunderstood or overlooked indigenous plant in the South African botanical kingdom that has incredible potential for cocktails and drinks?

Bitter aloe. It’s tough, unpretentious, and remarkably healing, much like the Karoo in plant form. When used properly, it may give a cocktail a delicate herbal depth that causes people to stop mid-sip and ask, “What is that? They won’t ask you to make it again if you use too much. As usual, balance is essential.

Many of our readers are interested in natural remedies and herbalism. While Animo is a spirit, do you see a connection between the craft of distilling botanicals for flavour and the older, traditional craft of extracting plant essences for medicine or wellbeing?

Distillation is just herbal medicine from antiquity with improved glassware. Knowing what a plant has to offer and drawing forth its essence are the goals of both artistic endeavors. You’re protecting memory, chemistry, and spirit in addition to pursuing flavor. My preparation only differs in that it tastes better with salt and lime.

Looking beyond spirits, what do you believe is the future for South Africa’s indigenous plants? Are we doing enough to preserve and celebrate this knowledge, or is there a risk of it being lost as trends move on?

We’re standing on a goldmine of biodiversity, but the clock’s ticking. If we don’t protect and celebrate these plants — and the cultural knowledge that comes with them — we risk losing more than ingredients; we lose identity. The future of South African spirits isn’t about copying trends from elsewhere. It’s about realizing that the world’s next great flavor might already be growing in your backyard — quietly waiting for someone to listen, distill, and toast to it.

In Pure Spirit

It’s fascinating to see distilling framed this way—not just as a chemical process, but as a way of capturing the essence and memory of a plant. It’s a craft that sits at the crossroads of botany, chemistry, and folklore. What do you think of this connection between ancient herbal traditions and modern spirits? Let us know in the comments below.

Thanks, Alaric!

Links

• Amino Spirits