When Harriet Messenger walks through the grounds of Husk Distillery, a now-iconic Northern Rivers destination attracting thousands each week, she effortlessly inhabits the space. She knows every corner of the sprawling property, every artisan who helped shape it and every ingredient growing in its gardens.
That instinct for connection is fitting, given that Husk wasn’t born from a business plan, it was born from her father’s vision and a strong pursuit to push boundaries. And for Harriet, now co-founder of Husk, pushing boundaries has been part of the job description since she was 22.
A family business with a big vision
Husk began in 2012 as the brainchild of Harriet’s father, Paul, a former geologist who fell in love with agricole-style rum on a trip to the Caribbean. Captivated by the idea of “farm-to-bottle” rum made using fresh sugarcane juice, a style deeply connected to land, he returned to Australia determined to bring the concept home.
“The Tweed was perfect,” Harriet says. “Cane country, cheaper land back then, and a volcano — which Quentin [now CEO of Husk] always says every self-respecting rum distillery needs.”
That volcano, the ancient Tweed Shield has shaped the unique soils and microclimates surrounding Husk’s farm, influencing everything from the flavour of the cane to the botanicals growing wild on the 150-acre property.
But rum is seasonal. Fresh cane juice is only available June to December, which left long stretches where the distillery simply couldn’t operate. It was then that the family shifted the business on its head by turning to gin.
The gin that broke the rules
In 2015, long before “craft gin” was a household phrase, the Messengers had created something extraordinary: a gin infused with butterfly pea flower, shifting in colour from deep indigo to blush pink with the addition of tonic.
It was beautiful and bold. But more importantly, it broke every unwritten rule.
Harriet laughs remembering their first tasting with a bartender. “He got really quiet. I thought it must taste horrible. But he said, ‘It tastes great, but gin’s meant to be clear.’ And Dad just went, ‘Says who?’”
There are stringent legal requirements around alcohol production. But for gin, there’s only one: juniper must be the predominant flavour. Clarity is not a rule, it’s just a long-held tradition.
For Harriet, then twenty-something and embarking on her first big professional leap, it was her father’s unwavering conviction that ultimately fuelled her.
“I said maybe we should just take out the flower and release a clear gin first. Dad said no. Three years of development, we know this is a good product. We have to back it.”
The gamble paid off. Within two years, Ink Gin became one of Australia’s best-selling craft gins, helping reshape the country’s emerging spirits scene.
Navigating a male-dominated industry
The drinks sector, from distilling to hospitality to beer, has long been dominated by men. But Harriet describes her experience in the industry as unexpectedly welcoming, in part, she admits, because she grew up instilled with confidence.
“I was raised not to be pushed over,” she says. “And I had great male role models as well as female ones.”
Being part of a family business also helped buffer her from early sceptics, and ironically, her youth and naivety often worked in her favour.
“I’d walk into bars and say, ‘My dad made this gin, here’s how you drink it!’ I think people found that pretty endearing.”
Today, the Australian craft spirits sector has grown dramatically, with many more women entering the field. Alongside the Australian Distillers Association, an Australian Women’s Distillers Association has emerged, a sign, Harriet says, of the industry’s increasingly inclusive identity.
“It’s still male dominated if you look at executive boards. But in my experience compared to other drinks sectors it’s very supportive of women.”
A distillery built by community, for community
If Ink Gin made Husk famous, the distillery itself made it beloved.
Husk is now one of the Northern Rivers’ major tourism drawcards, but Harriet is emphatic that the business would not exist without the region’s people.
“This place was literally built by locals,” she says. “Our boilermakers, our chippies, our plumbers. Everyone who helped put this distillery together lives nearby.”
Even the still imported from Scotland arrived in pieces and had to be assembled by local tradespeople. Their restaurant sources proteins and herbs from producers up the road. The world’s largest lemon myrtle farm, conveniently in Byron, supplies key botanicals. Husk grows its own ginger, garnishes, herbs, and native ingredients across its gardens.
“Even our T-shirts are printed by our neighbour Jodi,” Harriet laughs. “We could get them from overseas, but why would we?”
This hyper-local ethos is more than sustainability. Bringing the community into the heart of the business builds loyalty and a sense of pride. Husk’s annual Christmas party for the local community association is always the best-attended, she adds.
“Building a brand means bringing people along for the journey.”
What comes next
With the recent announcement that Paul has stepped back from the CEO role, trading early meetings for semi-retirement, and longtime team member Quentin stepping up, Harriet finds herself entering a new chapter.
The business is bigger, more complex, and evolving quickly, but the philosophy remains unchanged: take risks, stay rooted in place, and don’t let tradition box you in.
The simple question of “why can’t we do it differently?” remains at the core of Husk’s identity and will do for generations to come.