Mention absinthe, and people do funny things with their eyebrows. When I confessed that I was compiling a book of absinthe cocktails, most people responded with one of three facial expressions. Most common was the skeptical, single-brow raise: “You make cocktails with that stuff? Isn’t it illegal? Isn’t it a hallucinogen that will, like, make you go crazy?” The more adventurous, but still misguided, would raise both brows enthusiastically and then invite themselves over for research: “Absinthe, huh? The green fairy! My buddy brought a bottle back from Amsterdam one time … that stuff is insane! Do you light the cocktails on fire?” Then there was the furrowed brow, and the wince: “Oooh, never again. I tried absinthe once. It tasted like licorice-flavored cough syrup. I don’t know how people drink that stuff.”
Poor absinthe. It’s a victim of its own shoddy publicity. Starting in the 1990s, companies selling fake absinthe on the Web created a whole lot of hype about the spirit, most of it humorously false. They were recycling the bogus, politically charged claims that got absinthe outlawed in the United States and other countries eighty years earlier. Even worse, the hideous, bright green booze they were selling wasn’t absinthe at all. Scammers would mix cheap grain spirits with food coloring and artificial flavors and charge $100 a bottle, promising hallucinogenic, aphrodisiacal, Ecstasy-like effects. They would even invent bizarre rituals, like lighting sugar cubes on fire. The fact that absinthe was banned in the United States and other countries, and that very few people knew anything about the true absinthe of old, was a boon to these swindlers—it bred intrigue.
But things are changing. Authentic absinthe is now available legally. And when I tell people about this book, there’s a fourth group that responds with a more welcome facial expression: a look of recognition. Increasingly, people are tasting true absinthe and learning that just like any other premium spirit, it’s not a hallucinogen, and when it’s served the proper way, it’s no stronger than a glass of wine. It’s only slightly sweet—due to the naturally sweet herbs anise and fennel—and slightly bitter. True to its reputation, absinthe does have flavor characteristics similar to black licorice, among other herbal notes.
Absinthe was a standard cocktail ingredient from the late nineteenth century into the 1920s. It lent depth and a whisper of anise to mixed drinks. By 1915, absinthe had been banned in the United States, France, and several other countries, but it continued to enhance cocktails at London’s Savoy Hotel and bars in Cuba and Spain, where it remained legal. Eventually, with absinthe outlawed in several key countries and production slashed, bartenders turned to a new crop of anise-flavored substitutes, known as pastis. Pastis is sweeter than absinthe and less complex, notably lacking the herb wormwood, which lends absinthe a unique bitter element. Gradually the classic absinthe cocktails—now made with the less dynamic pastis—fell out of favor. By the 1960s, cocktail culture was fizzling out altogether, trumped by beer and colorful, two-ingredient vodka drinks.
In recent years, cocktails have made an impressive comeback, but absinthe, still unavailable, was left out of the mix until 2007, when it made its long-awaited reprise. Classic cocktails like the rye whiskey–based Sazerac and the herbaceous Chrysanthemum are back. And the influx of authentic European absinthe and artisanal domestic brands has inspired a new wave of absinthe-laced cocktails like the rum-based Stargazer, the elegant Gill Sans, and the flirtatious L’amour en Fuite.
Cocktail hour has merged with l’heure verte, the storied “green hour” of the Belle Époque. Absinthe, the green fairy, the emerald muse, is painting our cocktails in shades of pale, opalescent green. The myths have been exposed, and some of the mystique has faded, but the romance remains. Dust off the vintage glassware—it’s time to drink to history.