Lucie Monk Carter
At Doe’s Eat Place in Baton Rouge, cocktail history buff (and bartender and head chef) George Krause offers a dose of the Green Fairy.
Ernest Hemingway smuggled it into Cuba. Toulouse-Lautrec carried his stash in a hollowed-out cane. Frankenstein was written while Mary Shelley was in its grasp. And, perhaps most infamously, Van Gogh cut off his ear after overindulging.
In 2007, after a 95-year ban, absinthe became legal again in the U.S. The typically 140-proof spirit, also known as “the green fairy,” is an anise-flavored liquor distilled with herbs and botanicals, including wormwood, fennel, lemon balm, and star anise. Most spirits shops carry bottles of absinthe, including Toulouse Red and Toulouse Green, from Atelier Vie, a craft distillery in New Orleans; Vieux Carre, from Philadelphia; Grande Absente and Lucid, from France; and Mephisto, imported from Austria. But before you sip your trendy cocktail, you might want to know what precipitated the leave of absinthe.
The absinthe mystique
“The folklore alone is amazing,” said Millstone Spirits’ Robert Cassell, a founder of Philadelphia Distillers, the first distiller on the East Coast to legally make the spirit. That mystique swirls around thujone, a chemical found in Grand Wormwood (Artemisia absinthium), long claimed to be a hallucinogenic. But this is a fallacy, according to New Orleans-born real estate title abstractor Ray Bordelon, an avid absinthe product collector and aficionado of absinthe history. His vast collection features hundreds of antiques—absinthe drip spoons, bottles, and absinthe fountains, all on loan to the Southern Food & Beverage Museum, forming La Galerie de l’Absinthe. “There are a lot of misperceptions about absinthe,” said Bordelon, who traveled to France many times to imbibe before absinthe was available legally. “Because it’s so strong, two shots are equal to four shots of vodka. That’s enough to make anybody hallucinate,” he said.
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Absinthe’s roots can be traced to Pierre Ordinaire, a French doctor who’d fled to Switzerland after the French Revolution. In 1792 he made the herbal tonic, prescribing the potent elixir as a blanket cure-all to French soldiers fighting Algerian insurgents in 1840, who brought its fortifying power back with them to France. At the height of the Belle Époque, 5 pm was called “l’heure verte” (the green hour) among Parisians, who were downing thirty-six million liters of absinthe a year by 1909. In the states, it was most beloved in America’s most French city, New Orleans, where its consumption became linked with violence and crime. The Green Fairy became the Green Devil, as in, “The Green Devil made me do it.” By 1914, absinthe was banned in America and most of Europe. Although the accusations against absinthe were later disproven, in 1934 two New Orleans natives created their own version of absinthe (sans the wormwood), and named it Herbsaint, a bottle still found on bars today.
Because it’s so strong, two shots are equal to four shots of vodka. That’s enough to make anybody hallucinate.
A century later, medical studies proved that thujone is harmless in small quantities, and drinking absinthe (in moderation) is the same as drinking other potent spirits. One of the “scientific” studies used to support the U.S. ban was done using mental patients as a control group, noted Cassell. “Absinthe is dangerously delicious, that’s about it. If you don’t like the taste of anise, don’t drink it. It would be like eating cheeseburgers but not liking the taste of beef.”
The ritual
The traditional way to drink absinthe is called “la louche,” in which the drinker dilutes absinthe with ice water and sugar. “There’s a novelty to it,” said Bordelon. “Louche” is French for “cloudiness,” a reference to the morphing that occurs when the bright green spirit is served with water. (It’s also come to mean “disreputable” in English.) In the old-school method, one ounce of absinthe is poured into a clear glass, then a slotted spoon, topped with a lump of sugar, is perched over the glass. Two to three ounces of ice-cold water is then slowly trickled through the spoon, dissolving the sugar into the glass. The cold water creates swirling clouds—“la louche”—that turn the Green Fairy milky and opaque.
For many, the absinthe ritual, which can involve a chilled water tower with four spouts, giving the customer the ability to add water to his or her taste, is much of the fun. Fans of the popular Sazerac cocktail may or may not know that the rye-based New Orleans specialty calls for rinsing the glass in absinthe to add just a hint of anise flavor.
Lucie Monk Carter
Chef George Krause at Doe's Eat Place.
Chef George Krause at Doe’s Eat Place in Baton Rouge knows his way around an absinthe ritual or two. In New Orleans, Pirates Alley Café, SoBou, and Bar Tonique are three spots that feature absinthe fountains at the bar and the Old Absinthe Bar hangs its cocktail program on the distinctive spirit. Craft bartenders all over town, in spots like Cure, Chef Nina Compton’s new Bywater American Bistro, and Toups South feature absinthe in specialty cocktails.
“Drinking absinthe isn’t just about having a cocktail,” said Bordelon. “It’s an experience. It’s like history in a glass.”
Try New Orleans' Old Absinthe House's recipe for an absinthe frappé.
This article originally appeared in our May 2018 issue. Subscribe to our print magazine today.