Absinthe: American Edition

(Photo: The making of Neptune's Wrath, an absinthe and chartreuse cocktail, recipe in my absinthe-in-America article in the Chicago Tribune. Thanks Kirk Estopinal, bartender, and Toby Maloney, mixologist, at The Violet Hour.)

Everyone who's ever tasted absinthe has a first-time horror story.

In 1996 Ted actually asked a colleague to bring a bottle of Hill's back from the Czech Republic to New Orleans, "it might as well have been window cleaner and vodka," he said. A year later, David, half a world away in South Africa, fell for the same infamous Czech-sinthe, remembering it as "highly alcoholic mouthwash." Lance had only himself to blame, distilling his own, "it was insanely bitter, but I drank it anyway." Hiram was worse, he just soaked herbs in alcohol resulting in "absolutely vile horrible stuff."

Not me. These lips have never tasted Czech-sinthe, moon-sinthe, or any kind of crap-sinthe. I'm like a convent-raised absinthe drinker - if you can expand your mind to view Cantada II - the punk, metal, HxC bar in the gritty 11th arrondissement of Paris - as my absinthe convent school. Mickey, the owner, who looks straight out of 30 Days of Night and is a big sweetheart, currently lists 25 different absinthes his menu, most of them good, with more to come.

My teachers? I tasted my first absinthe under the eye of Peter Schaf, the Paris-based, Wisconsin-born absintheur, who's one of the most quietly influential absinthe makers, consultants, and obsessives alive in the world today. You saw Peter educating Tony too on the very first episode of No Reservations in Paris.

David Nathan-Maister, the mastermind behind Oxygénée, supplied my first taste of pre-ban absinthe, when we trekked out to Pontarlier, French birthplace of the spirit, to appear on the Gourmet's Diary of a Foodie episode "Contraband Cuisine".

The best place to drink absinthe? Forget about knee-deep in celebs at the Waverly Inn. Try the hill overlooking Pontarlier at dusk, sipping ultra-rare, vintage absinthe with Peter and David, at the mouth of a mausoleum.

While you'll probably never share that experience with those cats, the renaissance of Absinthe in America may banish the horror stories to history.

Even with Mansinthe. Markus Lion, the respected German absintheur (who allowed me to taste the prototype at the Absinthiades back in 2006, nothing like the current product) said it should be out by April pending final approval. "We hope that because it's Manson it won't be a big deal," he said. Hopefully not with the authorities anyway. I tasted it at Cantada and Mansinthe is a surprisingly lovely, gentle drink.

(Despite what the Epi dudes say.)

"Absinthe aromas can vary from alpine flowers to an overheated sexual smell," said Peter.

And doesn't that sound like a very good first time?

Comments

[Mango Lassie]

I just read your article on absinthe in the Chicago Tribune. Thanks for letting everyone know what's available to U.S. consumers. I had one question, though, about the soon-to-be-released Marteau. The article says it's a Portland brand. Does that mean Portland, Ore.? I went to wormwoodsociety.org, and it looks like it's made in Switzerland. Can you clarify?

[Louisa]

Yes, the new American Marteau will be made in Portland, Oregon from locally grown ingredients. The current Marteau is made in Switzerland.

[Kiriel]

I love the photo!

[Chad Edward]

I fell for the Czech-sinthe, even after a warning from Ted. It was my last night in Prague. My friend, Michael, and I were making the usual early morning switch from Chateau L'Enfer Rouge to Roxy. We were so buzzed up by then, I barely noticed Michael handing me a green shot. I'm not blaming it entirely on the Czech-sinthe, but the next morning I woke up next to a puddle of my own vomit. Heed the warning! Say no to Czech-sinthe!

[Louisa]

One should be able to trust any shot handed over by a friend - sight unseen. Not to question your friendship - just sayin'. ;)

[Chad Edward]

I think he meant well. He and I have different tastes. He would swig Bekerovka like a Bohemian. I thought the stuff tasted like insecticide.

[eddybles]

Every time I visit Prague I feel it's my obligation to drink a little Czech-sinthe. I do it not for the taste (horrendous) but to get myself into the spirit of the place. Lighting up a glass of absinthe in the den of a medieval cellar bar and watching a lump of shaped sugar ooze and melt down in a cloudy swirl into the green liquid below through an antique absinthe spoon is all about the experience, not about the flavor. I made a batch of homemade absinthe last year and while it was actually better than the stuff I drink in Prague, it didn't have that same mysterious allure as there's no medieval cellar bar in my basement and my door doesn't open up to the beauty of Prague.