From Artemesia Absinthium to Les Enfants Terribles

Quote of the week: "You should try absinthe some time... a very warm, licorice type of drink that will knock you right behind the eyeballs and make you're feet feel funny." ~ My brother and fellow liquor enthusiast Kevin

A few years ago, a friend leaned toward me and, in hushed back-alley tones, said, "I've started drinking absinthe. You can't get it legally here in the States, but I've got a connection."

Today, you could conceivably hear someone say, "Absinthe! That is so two years ago." Not long after my friend confessed his new vice, the elusive Green Fairy landed in our liquored-up metropolis and unpacked her bags.

According to my brother, that wily high-proof trickster recently spread her wings to the Midwest. I read his e-mail and thought, how could I have gone nearly two years without trying this infamous elixir!?

And infamous it is indeed. I asked my friend A. if she would join me for a taste, and she told me that absinthe scares her. She did, however, offer to go with me, have a glass of wine, and make sure I didn't fall off the bar stool while muttering insanities about whatever crazy hallucinations might bewitch my mind.

Absinthe was banned in the States and several other countries in the early 20th century. Before then, it was apparently the "in" drink among Bohemians--everyone who was anyone was doing it, including Van Gogh, Toulouse-Lautrec and Oscar Wilde. Well, gosh, who wouldn't want to join the Green Fairy parade? Eventually though, that playful sprite fell into ill repute and was accused of driving men and women mad. Absinthe was labeled as a dangerous, addictive hallucinogenic, properties which were attributed to a chemical called thujone that is present in the drink's name-giving herb, Artemesia absinthium, or more commonly, Grande Wormwood.

I was not dissuaded by A.'s misgivings. A true lush never falters in the pursuit of new alcoholic experiences. Let the madness begin!

So it was that we found ourselves sitting at the bar in Vintage Irving on 15th Street discussing the absinthe options with the very friendly and helpful (though not completely informed) bartender. After a brief discussion about the sweetness of the cocktails containing absinthe, I decided to stick with the basics and try it in the classic style. I ordered Lucid, which according to the company's web site, was the first genuine absinthe to be introduced in the States in 95 years.

The bartender poured the green-hued liquor into a pretty glass, placed a beautiful silver spoon across the rim and set a sugar cube on the spoon. He then filled a tall-standing fountain with water. The fountain had two spigots jutting out from either side. I was instructed to turn the handle on the spigot to let the water drip onto the sugar cube, which would dissolve into the glass, until the drink reached my desired sweetness.

Before adding any water, I took a tiny straight sip. The fennel and anise which are also used in the distillation process imbibe the absinthe with a delightful liquorice like flavor.

Following the bartender's instructions, I opened the tap. After several sips, I gave up on the sugar cube. The drink seemed to become somehow less sweet instead of more. I added a few ice cubes from my water glass and sipped away while A. had two glasses of wine. The absinthe was not going down easily.

It was only in my follow-up research that I learned two things:

1) You are supposed to add four to five ounces of ice-cold water, which causes the absinthe to become opalescent and dilutes the alcohol content which is kept very high after distillation to preserve the herbs. And,

2) Some places light the sugar cube on fire. I spent several days being disappointed that my the cube had not been ignited. Then I found out that the fire ritual is not traditional. Still, a girl should be able to find some fire for her sugar if she's feeling a little hot under the cocktail glass.

I am disappointed that I was not more appropriately schooled during my first go with absinthe. It is true that I should have done more research, but I also feel that bartenders should be thoroughly educated about their liquor, particularly if they serve a specialty drink.

I was told at Vintage Irving, and their web site reiterates, that the distillation process had been changed since the classic years to reduce the amount of thujone. However, every other source I read, including the Lucid web site, debunks this idea. A chemical analysis of a vintage bottle showed levels of thujone in classic absinthe were not high enough to knock anyone of their rocker. In fact, it was barely detectable (see sources below for more info and educational reading).

One serving at Vintage Irving was enough to give me the tiniest buzz, but I stopped there. Alas, I had to get up at 5:30 the next two days to try to find decent light for my photography assignment. Funny-feeling feet and falling off bar stools would have to wait for another night.

It was not until Saturday that I was able to continue chasing after that flirtatious fairy. I found a handful of places online with absinthe cocktails on their menu. One review suggested that fired-up sugar might be found at Apotheke on Doyle Street in Chinatown.

About 7:50 on Saturday night, V. and I stood outside 9 Doyle Street confused by a large yellow sign that said Gold Flower Restaurant. We finally decided it must be one of the faux speakeasy joints, which have become so popular in New York. Sure enough, we opened the door and found a beautiful, dark space with small tables, plush benches and low stools. At the far end of the room, bathed in gorgeous amber light, was a stunning bar lined with endless bottles of sparkling liquor and manned by bartenders in lab coats. It was not a golden flower. It was a lush's dream, an apothecary designed to soothe the woes of the overworked with delightful liquid concoctions.

We sat at an open table and breathed in the brick walls, the warm light, the beautiful people at other tables. Then the cocktail waitress came by and kindly explained that all tables are by reservation only. We were welcome to sit there until a reservation arrived, and then we could stand at the bar. She told us, for our future reference, that a table reservation for two is $150, which works out well since most people spend that much having four to five cocktails each. She then took my credit card and left us with the menus, which, of course, did not list any prices.

Well, we were there to try an absinthe cocktail, and gosh darn, we were going to do it. Why spend all week working our tooshes off if we can't splurge a little? Although Apotheke serves a flaming absinthe (aka "the fire show"), you can't order it until after 11:00. We ordered the only other absinthe option on the menu. I can't recall the name, but it was a mix of cognac and absinthe with fennel, cloves and anise. Surely there must also have been juice or water because V. and I walked out completely unaffected.

Although the space was beautiful, the drink was delicious and the cocktail menu is impressive, we decided Apotheke is overpriced. Our two-cocktail tab was $43. It's worth a cocktail just for the experience, but I would not make a table reservation.

From Doyle Street, we wandered along Canal in pursuit of another bar with absinthe which was located further east. Along the way, however, we found a great little French restaurant and bar on Canal at the corner of Ludlow called Les Enfants Terribles.

We walked into the narrow, lively space and immediately loved it. The decor was rugged country with touches of art deco. The crowd was in our age range (always a plus), and there seemed to be a local following. The bartender makes a great martini. The host was officious. The Camembert with honey, almonds and frisee is incredible, and the bread is perfectly crusty on the outside and soft and airy on the inside.

I ate almost the entire wheel of Camembert myself since V. wasn't hungry. I am not proud of this, particularly since I skipped yoga this morning, but I wouldn't do it any differently if that cheese was sitting in front of me right now. It was absolutely fabulous... warm, soft, a little hard on the outside, and delicious.

Ahem. Well.

So, there were two French gentlemen sitting next to us drinking a mystery concoction out of tea cups. When I asked what they were enjoying, one offered me a sip. It was a decadent Irish coffee made with espresso, Jameson's and simple syrup. Quite good and quite possibly a good option for brunch.

Well, readers, there you have it. A quest for the Green Fairy leads to Les Enfants Terribles. And, the search for Pappy continues. Stay tuned!

For history and other interesting facts, about absinthe, see Absinthe Returns in a Glass Half Full of Mystique and Misery by Edward Rothstein in the New York Times and Absinthe on Wikipedia. And yes, I know Wikipedia is not a real source, but this is an informal blog, and the absinthe page appears to be quite well-referenced. You may also want to check out the 2006 article Green Gold in the The New Yorker. The abstract is available on their web site.