I’ve tried the modern absinthe and there’s nothing that special about it. It’s 45° alcohol (90 proof). It tastes like liquorice. I’ve met a number of ‘traditional’ absinthe drinkers and it’s true that they put a sugar cube on a spoon and slowly pour the absinthe over the sugar and into the glass. However, they put the water in after the absinthe is in the glass. It’s still illegal in France but you can buy it in Spain and Andorra. I’ve asked numerous people why absinthe is illegal in France and they all say because it makes people crazy. However, no one could tell my precisely why.
There is another alcohol very popular in France and particularly in the south. It’s tastes virtually the same as absinthe. The French call it ‘pastis’. The most popular brand is Ricard. It is strictly a before dinner drink (apéritif). You mix 1 par pastis and 5 parts water. Your supposed to put the pastis in the glass first and then the water and 1 or 2 ice cubes. It’s 45° alcohol as well but with a 1 to 5 ratio with water it’s actually a mild drink.
The bottle of Absinthe I have (from the Czech Republic via the UK) suggests an alternate, non-traditional method of consuming it with sugar. A spoonful or sugar, or a cube, is soaked in Absinthe, then lit with a match and allowed to burn for a minute or two to caramelize the sugar. The still-flaming spoonful is stirred into a glass of Absinthe, which catches fire as well, and the whole mess doused by the addition of water.
It tastes quite good this way. But I still wouldn’t mind getting ahold of some Artemisia absinthum for my garden – to find out how wormwood itself really tastes.
I’m an American now living in Sweden, but in the early 90’s (around 92-94) I lived in Prague. I remember actually when absinthe first made its REappearance in the city in 1993, first under the counter in a sort of pretentious cafe called Velryba, but within months in the western bars and clubs in general (but not too many of the local joints). This is for Joe the Foot (the first post): there is too something special about it. I don’t like the taste, and I didn’t drink it the trad way. I just stirred up sugar and water with it, but I can vouch for the effects, no matter how little truj-whatever is in it these days. Thing is, it took five or six absinthe (as always in Prague, washed down with beer) for things to get going, by which time you were pretty waffled. Ask Joe Strummer about the effects of absinthe, because me two other cooks had split over a bottle just before serving him and co. a private dinner and a place where we worked, and he’ll probably remember certain visuals we mentioned concerning briny shrimp while bypassing the waiters and serving him ourselves. The food probably sucked, but he seemed entertained. Haven’t touched absinthe in years, but visuals were a part of it, even though they were quite mild compared to other hallucinogens.
The SO got a recipe for “bathtub absinthe.” We have a friend that is a botanist/horticulturist/herbalist where we were able to obtain the wormwood along with the 20 other herbs that were required in the recipe (sorry, can’t remember what was all in it, this was about 3 years ago). After the infusing process, we strained it and it was a murky dark brown (not that nice shade of green it’s supposed to be). We took a drink and found it… just plain awful. The wormwood makes it extremely bitter. We didn’t even bother trying to drink more to test the hallucinogenic properties.
And, yes, we did mix it with water and sugar… it was still awful.
If you live in Sweden you must be familiar with Bäska Droppar (for those who don’t know what it is, it’s vodka spiced up with wormwood, a very bitter and excellent beverage).
Why is the question posed in the past tense? I can assure you the “art” of drinking absinthe is alive and well in many a London pub.
And while it is perhaps not as potent as its forebear, it is most certainly a wicked potion, not to be taken lightly. I never hallucinated during or after consumption, but then I never drank that much either. And I wouldn’t recommend anyone do so. However, if you happen to be in the U.K. and feel like having a strange tipple, just ask around. It’s an interesting experience, to say the least, particularly the ritual involved in serving it (see MJH2 above). (Do not, however, have more than one - no matter how great you feel after the first.)
Obviously, little research other than a wink was done on this question…
There are at least if not more than a dozen different absinth liquors, ranging in thujone and alchol content. I am currently a student in the Czech Republic and I have seen at least 7 types in Praha alone. And, my friend in the states recently ordered 5 types from Spain.
Like I have said, the strength in rhujone and alcohol differs. I have seen and had 70 percent ethanol absinth, Hills Brand Absinth. And, I have seen as little as 45 percent ethanol. Also, I have seen them with higher and higher concentrations of thujone. One brand has 25 times the amount of its competitor. Whew.
Also, as with differences in thujone and alcohol content, the taste differs as well. Hills is extremely rough and others are extremely smooth. Depends on the formulation, obviously.
As far as the affects go… me nor anyone I know has had enough to have any unusual hallucinations, maybe some visual and audio pecularities, but, is it the ethanol or thujone, I don’t know. But, the feeling it is not the same as other alcohols I have tried. Certainly different. And, after having the equiv. of, say, 8 shots of this stuff. My friends and I had woken up with no ill effects. No hang-over, no nothing. Maybe a bit groggy, but, nothing as if we had 8 shots of 140 proof vodka or something.
Anyways, off I go.
P.S. there is a liquor here that has cannabis extract in it, apparantly.
Herbsaint, which is still legal in the US, is also similar to absinthe, at least in taste. The original Oysters Rockefeller recipe calls for absinthe but I believe most restaurants substitute herbsaint now instead.
The original Sazerac cocktail also included a whiff of absinthe. At least one well-known New Orleans bar, the one at Arnaud’s Restaurant, now uses herbsaint instead. I believe most contemporary recipes suggest Pernod as the substitute.
The Sazerac, incidentally, is just an Old-Fashioned with that little tickle of licorice in it. Nonetheless, it’s a New Orleans institution.
Absinthe, I’ve once been told, is most effective when combined with beer. Although it could have been a blatant ruse by my otherwise friendly pub landlord to sell more beer to a drunken customer.
Still, after three beers and four shots of the spirit in question, Fiendish Astronaut, fresh pint of cold beer in hand, goes to sit down on one of those wooden picnic benches. You know the ones: table with bench connected on either side and usually wobbly. When you sit on the bench, the whole thing moves and everything on the table’s in jepordy. Weary of this, Fiendish had long ago sat on bench but facing away from table bit and with beer being set on floor. Fiendish sits down, Fiendish becomes convinced beer is going to topple after a not to graceful sitting technique. Fiendish continues to sit gingerly for several more minutes less beer should get wobbled to tipping position. Fiendish realises what he’s been doing. Stops. Gets first trip like experience of absinthe. Case solved. Fiendish then realises he’s been talking in the third person.
Whoops.
Not hallucinagenic I suppose, but it’s the sort of thing I’d expect on Acid so it’s good enough for me.
I’ve been drinking alot of absinthe for the last year or so and I love it. I used to go through the ritual of spoons and cubes and fire, etc., which was fun, but now I just shoot it. Three or four fat shots in a row and I’m in a completely different emotional and visual space. Having also shot vodka the same way many times I’d have to say that absinthe is a very, very different drink.
The original Sazerac cocktail also included a whiff of absinthe. At least one well-known New Orleans bar, the one at Arnaud’s Restaurant, now uses herbsaint instead. I believe most contemporary recipes suggest Pernod as the substitute.
Now from me:
I’m assuming Gore Vidal doesn’t lie too often in his historical novels, but I recall in the book “1876” the popular drink among Manhattanites at the time was the “Razzle Dazzle”, which consisted of absinthe and brandy. has anyone ever tried that one?
