Absinthe: Ever Green

The purveyors of fine absinthe are being vindicated and the category is slowly but surely earning proper respect. Dominic Roskrow looks at a category on the comeback trail

HALLUCINOGENIC GREEN FAIRIES, murder, lunatic asylums, zombie-like alcoholism and a consumption ceremony that wouldn’t look out of place in heroin den – absinthe sounds less like a spirits drink and more like a Hollywood horror film.

“Without doubt it has the most salacious and sordid back story of any spirits drink, more so than even gin,” says absinthe maker and expert Ted Breaux. “But it is a misleading one, and one which has political, economic and social strands to it.”

Absinthe is the Russell Brand of the spirits world. Linked to a hedonistic and debauched past with druggy overtones, it is these days capable of class, sophistication and élan. Nevertheless, there’s still a twinkle in its eye and its past hasn’t completely gone away.

So why is it gaining in popularity and finding its way into some of the world’s finest bars? And why is it that these days you’re more likely to find it rubbing shoulders with the very finest spirits brands and not hanging out with the likes of Buckie or Night Train (fortified wines)?

To understand absinthe you need to know what it is. And right there lies the first problem. With the notable exception of Switzerland, there is no legal definition of it. While there are tight rules on what can and cannot be included in a spirits drink, absinthe, which has been brought to market from a vast range of different countries, has no such protection.

Or as Breaux, whose highly respected Jade absinthe range enjoys loyal support from aficionados, puts it: “If I were to take industrial alcohol to America, colour it and put in artificial flavours and call it Scotch whisky then what do you think would happen? But I can put cheap vodka in a bottle, colour it, call it absinthe, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Not at the moment. But we’re trying to change that.”

By ‘we’ Ted means a small band of absinthe producers across the world who have sought out original recipes and identified what true absinthe is. People such as Alan Moss, who spends most of his time educating barmen and other interested parties about the drink and its history.

“Led by Switzerland and the US – the first country with strict labelling and marketing standards for absinthe – absinthe is moving towards a common standard,” he says. “It should be distilled, and contain at least the three main plants called the ‘trinity’ – anise seed, fennel and wormwood – and without artificial colouring or added sugar.

“But the European Union has yet to reach a final agreement. The example now being set in London and New York will eventually become the blueprint for most of the rest of the world. Eastern Europe, Australasia, and some of the other emerging world markets will take some while to follow.

“But it is sad to see that it has taken so long. At least three of the first French brands to emerge (or re-emerge from 2000 onwards) were made to standards that would have placed them in the bottom category of absinthe in the 19th century through virtue of the added artificial colours they contained. Two of them seem to be in the process of eliminating artificial colours now, some 13 or so years after their initial launches.”

Moss refers to the re-emergence of the category 13 years ago and it’s from there that the second big problem stemmed. Absinthe had been widely banned because of its association with alcoholism, the drug effects of wormwood, mental illness and crime. While no one doubts the potentially harmful effects of wormwood and in particular thujone, credited with being an hallucinogen, supporters of absinthe have a big issue with this view of the drink.

“You’re not going to see green fairies by drinking absinthe because you would die before you had reached the level required,” says Alan Moss, whose absinthe brands include La Clandestine and Butterfly. “And we wouldn’t want that because it’s not good for repeat business.”

Ted Breaux takes up the story. “Absinthe had been extremely popular in the 19th century, and in France more popular than wine. When the French wine industry recovered from being wiped out by the Phylloxera aphid, it attacked absinthe for the one thing that had made it different: wormwood.

“But the truth is that, as demand for absinthe grew, unscrupulous drinks makers were taking industrial spirit not fit for human consumption, colouring it with copper sulphate and adding chemicals to create the clouding. This was consumed by the poorest people and alcoholics, and not surprisingly with dangerous metal levels in their bloodstream, they ended up seriously ill, in asylums or committing violent crimes. Proper absinthe was banned for things it wasn’t responsible for.”

Stephen Goulding, proprietor and distiller at the Golden Moon Distillery and Speakeasy, says there were other factors, too. “Anti-semitism played a major part because at the height of the absinthe boom in France many of the producers, such as the Pernod family, were Jewish, and there was a lot of anti-semitism in France at the time. Non-Jewish absinthe producers advertised the fact to avoid the backlash.”

Banned in many places and unfashionable pretty much everywhere else, absinthe fell off the drinks map. So what changed? Amazingly, the first resurgence was as a result of the end of the Cold War.

“Before the iron curtain came down the Czech Republic made its own spirits, including one it called absinthe – and I use the term loosely. Once the iron curtain came down people discovered what a beautiful city Prague was and there they found absinthe. Soon the Czechs realised that people would pay a lot of money for it. Trouble was, it tasted nothing like absinthe. So to distract from this fact they came up with the gimmick of setting it on fire.”

This sort of gimmick and other ‘hooligan’ promotions nearly killed off the absinthe revival before it had begun. As bans were lifted across the world, some of the new producers played up to the super strength of the drink and its supposed hallucinogenic properties – even though the way to drink absinthe is to add substantial amounts of cold water to it (to make it cloudy) and the drug element is a myth. 

As a result the drink attracted people after a ‘legal high’ and who were to abandon the drink after being disappointed. And it put off responsible drinkers who were appalled by its ‘hooligan’ image.

“For us, absinthes that focus in their communication on extreme strength (whether it be related to alcohol or thujone content) are preying on the ignorance of consumers,” says Alan Moss. “In the 19th century, absinthe was bottled at between 45% and 74%, and there was no focus on thujone levels in the marketing of absinthe. Higher-alcohol absinthes should be dosed with more water to bring them down to the same drinking strength. Sadly, some companies use high strength as a way of getting consumers to drink more alcohol more quickly [witness stag parties in Prague].

“Undoubtedly some were attracted by the hype and stumbled across absinthe on a group night out – or on holiday – and who wander off, drunk, and disappointed not to see green fairies. This group does not exhibit great category loyalty.”

The reinvention of absinthe, though, has come as a direct result of the rediscovery of classic cocktails. Generations ago, absinthe was used in scores of cocktails and, as the new wave of intelligent mixologists seek out producers with provenance and heritage, so too absinthe is being rediscovered.

America, which avoided all the druggy setting-on-fire scene by not lifting its ban on anything which encouraged such behaviour is leading the way, but the UK is learning fast. The Savoy alone has more than 100 recipes using absinthe, not just as a principal ingredient but when used in the same way as bitters.“Just a few drops of absinthe can bring a drink to life and make it sparkle,” says Breaux. 

John McCarthy, who is making quality absinthes at the Copper House Distillery in Suffolk, England agrees. “Absinthe can add an extra dimension to cocktails and just washing the glass with absinthe prior to filling with drinks such as a Martini can make them amazing,” he says.

“It appears in many great drinks such as the Corpse Reviver No 2 and Sazerac, which have both been around for decades. We do not recommend the burning of sugar, which was popular in the ’90s, and definitely do not recommend anyone drink it neat.”

Ceremony has always been important to absinthe, but the new producers accept that the apparatus around it may have been considered pretentious. Spoons are optional, they say, sugar unnecessary, setting fire to the liquid to be avoided, and fountains an elaborate, stylish, but ultimately unnecessary luxury. Carafes of ice cold water are just as effective. 

What they all agree on is the need for more education on the drink. “An increasing number of people are finding that absinthe isn’t what they thought it was and they find that they actually like it,” says Stephen Goulding. “In America the market is crowded with a small number of very good brands which are expensive and a lot of not very good brands that are cheap.

“Our job is to get the big companies to move over to good quality and that’s starting to happen. If it continues absinthe has a very bright future indeed.”