When the pandemic compelled them to quarantine in Umbria, the Mordant family did what anyone reasonable would do—they started making gin. Quattro Gatti began with wild juniper, 502 bottles, and a makeshift distilling operation split between Italy, London, and upstate New York. As the project evolved—and began earning world-class awards—it placed the longtime patrons in an unlikely new role as producers of the Venice Biennale’s official gin.
The Australian family—Simon, Catriona, Brielle, and their son Angus—have spent decades cultivating a legacy in the art world out of their native country, including Simon’s tenure as Australia’s Biennale commissioner, and the couple’s instrumental role in redeveloping its pavilion in Venice. Now, they’ve turned their attention toward another kind of ritual: small, intimate gatherings, alla quattro gatti. Below, Simon discusses accidental entrepreneurship, a strangely seamless experience with Italian bureaucracy, and how a small family gin operation can rise to the world stage in the blink of an eye.
Let’s start by talking about the gin. Tell me, how was the foundation for Quattro Gatti first laid?
During the pandemic, we spent increasing amounts of time here in Umbria. It had been a holiday home for us up until that point. When Covid hit, Australia shut down, and our son and daughter-in-law and our only grandchild were living in America. My 96-year-old mother was in London, and we simply didn’t want to be locked into Australia. Our son is a photojournalist and was breaking the pandemic story, so we were obviously concerned. We couldn’t accept being trapped, and decided to move to our home in Italy and actually live there for the first time.
We became connected to the seasons, the land, and what was growing around us, which inspired us to make something from what was around us. Our son pointed out that we had native juniper growing on our land, and that Umbrian juniper is considered the best in the world. He said, “Why don’t you make gin?” That started our journey.
How did you collect the know-how and understanding for crafting gin?
[Angus] and I enrolled in a master gin-making course in England, and we fell in love with the whole process and its experimentation. We continued developing by Zoom—he had a small still in upstate New York, and I had one here in Umbria. We’d experiment and compare notes. Eventually we bought a larger still, and when travel restrictions eased, he came over to start developing recipes using botanicals we were picking and harvesting from our own land.
We made a gin we were pretty happy with, then invited the master gin maker who’d trained us to spend a week helping us tweak the recipes. What came out of that was something we were really proud of. Then, almost as a joke, we entered it into the World Gin Awards—and won 97 out of 100, a triple-gold medal. Suddenly, we were getting calls from around the world asking where it could be bought. We had to tell them: We’d only made 502 bottles, and it wasn’t for sale. As a family, we looked at each other and thought, Maybe it should be. So we decided to go commercial, scale up, and that’s what’s led us to where we are today.
During Covid, most people were making sourdough bread or picking up a small hobby—but you really went big. It’s a beautiful story, not just as a business venture, but as a way of connecting with your surroundings, your land, and bringing your family together.
That’s the wonderful thing about it. When we decided to go commercial, we went to the customs authorities and asked about the rules for making gin in Italy—because there are rules in Italy for everything. The official looked at us and said, “I don’t know, come back in two weeks.” So we did, and he came back and told us there was nobody making gin in Umbria, so essentially we could do as we pleased. We were the first people to ever make gin in Umbria, and that was that.
Amazing! That’s fun, and now you’re legal—not bootleggers.
We’re not bootleggers, and we were the first spirit sponsor of the Venice Biennale, which is incredible.
Indeed! How did your relationship with the Biennale begin?
We’ve had a long history with it. I married [Catriona] in 1988, and we started going shortly after that. The same year, Australia was granted a site in the gardens—the ultimate site—and a temporary pavilion was put up quite quickly. Over time, there were questions about whether that pavilion was really fit for purpose. Cat and I commissioned a research study to look at whether it could be redeveloped, and we were surprised to discover that the Australian pavilion was the only building in the gardens to not be heritage listed. We went to the Australian government and said: If we raise the money, can we redevelop it?
We received permission from the original architect, and over a seven or eight year period, we navigated planning approval in Venice—which is no small thing—and ran a national competition among Australian architects. During that period, I also served as Australia’s commissioner twice. Our relationship with Venice runs very deep.
So the sponsorship emerged from these ties.
Essentially, we had supported the previous edition of the Biennale, which Adriano Pedrosa curated, and when they asked if we’d support Koyo Kouoh’s Biennale, we said yes. In that conversation, I mentioned that we had a small gin business and asked whether they’d ever had a spirits sponsor. They said they had Bvlgari, American Express, and Illy Coffee—and asked if we’d be interested in joining that group. A few months of conversations later, it was done. It really is a perfect fit, since it’s not about pushing product. It’s about what Quattro Gatti stands for: small gatherings of people, having real conversations as friends. That’s very much the spirit of the Biennale.
That’s wonderful. And I have to say, it’s much cooler than American Express. To close, can you share the recipe for the Biennale’s official cocktail, or was that top secret?
Not at all. Our brand ambassador developed it together with the bar team at the St. Regis in Venice. It’s made with our olive grove gin, hibiscus syrup, lemon, and sparkling grapefruit juice—so it has the color of a Venetian sunset. A beautiful pinkish apricot tone, almost like a Bellini. Perfect for daytime drinking.
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