The first time I smuggled Absinthe back from Prague, I had a few bottles tucked away in a heap of sweaters and dirty socks, hoping the odor accumulated from a week of pounding Praha's cobblestones would be enough to dissuade customs from rummaging through the deliberate mess in my luggage and confiscating my thujone laced Fee Verte, or Green Fairy. When security stopped me and asked to open my bag I was prepared to hand over my electric green liqueur, dashing all hopes of an absinthe fueled party where the guests would dress like sirens from Mucha paintings and hopefully someone would catch sight of a pixie by night's end.
The first thing that sprung from my suitcase, tightly packed with souvenirs, was a boxed marionette of a red devil. The customs officers were so fascinated by my scarlet clay Lucifer that after asking a few questions, tucked him carefully back into my bag and sent me on my way. I whispered thanks to my devil, hung him on a peg at home and enjoyed a few Absinthe fueled nights with friends who swore they spent the night with fairies dancing around their heads. I must admit the stuff never did anything for me besides send me into a haze of longing for the warrens of restaurants and bars tucked deep down in the musty wine cellars of the ancient city it had come from but there was a certain feeling gained by the consumption of a liquid with so much mystique and musty legend infused into each mouthful of licorice tinted bitterness. With that first illicit smuggling success, an unexpected sensation of victory washed over me and although I knew it was cliche to smuggle Absinthe back from Prague, I found myself doing it again the very next year.
This time I had no room for a marionette in my suitcase and as a last resort (because I can't seem to go to Prague and not buy a marionette), I wrapped the puppet in a sheet of brown butcher's paper, taping the ends and stuffing the awkward package into my carry-on, half of it poking out through the zipper. Once again I rolled the Absinthe up in dirty laundry, cursing myself a little for this compulsion to bring the stuff home just because I was in Prague. At customs, I was stopped again and this time they never even got to my suitcase.
'Is that a sausage?" an officer tersely asked, pointing to the long brown package sticking out of my bag, 'because you know you can't bring back meat from another country don't you?" Since being asked if I was trying to sneak a sausage back from Prague was so unexpected, I did not respond for a few minutes, which I suppose made me look a bit like a meat smuggling tourist, so in love with the stuff that I felt compelled to buy a two foot long salami for the journey home. I finally responded, "No, it's a puppet." 'A puppet?" he asked dubiously, a hairy black eyebrow creeping up his forehead, "let me see." After I unrolled my marionette, this time a wizard, he shook his head and silently waved me out of his airport. I happily complied, another wave of victory rushing over me.
I was sans spoon the first time I drank absinthe in America and therefore opted out of the ritual, mixed the stuff with water and sipped away. To celebrate my second success, I purchased a slotted absinthe spoon, sugar cubes shaped like the suits of playing cards along with a kit to make my own absinthe. I took the absinthe thing this far, I might as well go all the way.
Anise flavored absinthe was originally used as a medicinal elixir and in its natural state is pale or emerald green, although today it is frequently artificially colored to take on a neon hue bordering on disturbing. The word is most likely derived from the Greek word apsinthion, meaning undrinkable and due to its bitter taste, they might have had a point. It dates back to ancient times with Hippocrates prescribing it as a cure for jaundice, rheumatism and pain during childbirth and Pliny the Elder claiming it was the fountain of youth and recommending in the first century AD that champions of chariot races drink a cup of it to remind themselves that even glory has its bitter side. The acerbic flavor is due to the sour taste of wormwood, absinthe's primary ingredient. The drink served in modern cafes and bars is a concoction of several herbs and spices whereas in antiquity, absinthe consisted of wormwood leaves soaked in wine or spirits without the addition of flavorings to quell the powerful bite of wormwood. One has to have a little sympathy for those poor chariot victors. In the 18th century the "Purl" of Tudor England was a common drink in ale-houses and consisted of wormwood leaves steeped in beer.
The recipe for modern absinthe owes tribute to the French doctor, Pierre Ordinaire, who fled France during the revolution and settled in the small Swiss village of Couvet in 1792. Here he experimented with wormwood recipes and eventually came up with a libation of herbs and spices that packed a whollop at 136 proof. During his lifetime, Dr. Ordinaire refused to divulge the recipe for his concoction but word of his elixir for all things, including sobriety, spread and by the time of his death he was famous throughout Europe. On his deathbed, he was said to have passed along the formula to two Henriod nuns who in turn shared it with a visiting Frenchmen whose son-in-law was named Pernod. Enough said.
The term absinthe today conjures up flickering images of debauchery committed in the dusty dark corners of 19th century Parisian cafes. Whether it is due to the high proof or what many people claim are its hallucinogenic properties, it is certain that all manner of sins were committed under its influence and while many attempt to paint the poor spirit as an instigator of bad behavior, one must not forget that miracles happened under its influence too. Would we have For Whom The Bell Tolls, Alice in Wonderland, The Picture of Dorian Grey or many of the paintings of Degas, Picasso or Van Gogh were it not for absinthe's influence? In the charged bohemian soup of Paris and eventually London, New Orleans and New York, absinthe unleashed a fertile river of creativity. No matter where one stands on the ban of the drink, there is no denying that a few centuries ago, a little green fairy was spinning a rather prolific, inspired wand through the electrified heads of some of humanity's most revered artists.
The laws are less restrictive today for the sale of absinthe than they were a century ago and in many European Union countries absinthe is once again adding a dash of color to a bartender's repertoire. In America, the debate goes on but for now, absinthe is still prohibited. Do not fret. For those of you without a Prague vacation on the horizon, there is still hope. Make your own absinthe as all the ingredients (although we will never know for certain what was in Dr. Extraordinaire's original recipe) are available, most at your local grocery, spice or health food store. Absinthe kits along with absinthe spoons and shaped sugar cubes can also be purchased from Emerald Absinthe among many other distributors. Once you have your shiny green bottle of fairy fun, it is only appropriate to walk in Van Gogh's footsteps (I said footsteps, I'm not promoting earlobe snipping) and consume it in the traditional way. Pour a shot of absinthe into a glass, preferably the classic, dip a cube of sugar into the blend to saturate it with alcohol, place a slotted spoon atop the glass with the sugar on the spoon and set the sugar cube alight. Due to the alcohol, the sugar will set on fire and the melty sweetness will slip down through the holes of the spoon into the green liquid below. Allow the sugar to bubble away for a minute or so and then stir the rest into the absinthe. Finally, add three parts ice cold water to the brew. Once your bravery and curiosity are at their peek, take your first bitter sip, and let the nymphs and fairies do the rest. Enjoy.
Homemade Absinthe
1 liter neutral spirits such as vodka or Everclear
1/2 cup wormwood
1 tablespoon lemon balm
1 tablespoon coriander seed
1 tablespoon calamus root
1 tablespoon whole star anise
1 tablespoon angelica root
1 tablespoon fennel seed
1 tablespoon peppermint
1 tablespoon hyssop
1 teaspoon anise seed