Absinthe’s unique buzz may be all in your head

When I mentioned absinthe to friends, I got a few blank stares and some comments about Vincent Van Gogh’s ear and hallucinations. Not a single person mentioned that undiluted absinthe could take the finish off my dining room table. And that would have been good to know. Absinthe has a quite an aura of mystery about it, partly because of the strange behavior imbibers are said to have exhibited, and probably also simply because it’s illegal to sell in the States. The easiest way to get around the latter is to order it from companies on the other side of the Atlantic, via the Internet. I chose www.absintheonline.com; it wasn’t cheap, but two pretty bottles made it to my doorstep in perfect condition. As far as I know, no one was arrested. The strange behavior, on the other hand, is open to debate. Which is to say, I haven’t forgotten the gibberish that came out of my mouth while sipping absinthe. Sounds – not English, and not another recognizable language – came out of my mouth when I’d intended to speak in sentences. Pure gibberish. Intrigued? Think this is a product you must get your hands on? That’s the way absinthe works. As far as I can tell, without actually reading the laws, it’s legal to purchase absinthe here, but illegal to sell here. You could try to make it (as long as you don’t intend to sell it), except that it’s against the law to distill alcohol. The two bottles we had, Edouard 72 and Nouvelle-Orléans, were both from Jade Liqueurs of France. They’re the creations of a scientist named T. A. Breaux, renowned for his interest in absinthe. The Edouard 72, my favorite, had a clear black-licorice aroma and a nice green color. We prepared our cocktails by slowly dripping water over a cube of sugar until it dissolved, then we continued to add water until the absinthe turned a pale, milky green. The technique results in an especially pleasing visual effect, with a cloudy layer at the bottom of the glass and a thin layer of clear green on top. If you don’t keep adding water until this change in appearance takes place, the drink doesn’t taste as good. The sugar sits on a slatted spoon designed to rest securely on top of the glass. I ordered some from eBay. Special absinthe glasses, or antique versions of both, are also available via the Internet, but any stemware would work. I used our wine glasses. Comments on the drinks ranged from “My lips are numb” to “This is the best absinthe I’ve ever had,” from someone who had previously had absinthe from Portugal. My husband noted, “After one shot of absinthe, my buddy was hitting on my mother.” In defense of his buddy, my mother-in-law is an attractive woman, and this particular friend did drink his absinthe undiluted in one swallow. The Edouard 72 is 72 percent alcohol, or 144 proof. The added water in the drink cuts this down considerably, but it is still an amount to be reckoned with. The Nouvelle-Orléans is 68 percent alcohol, but the taste wasn’t as smooth and rich as the Edouard. In my experience, absinthe does seem to have a different type of effect on the nervous system. The key ingredient in absinthe, and the reason it was once banned in Europe as well as in this country, is the herb wormwood, which contributes the chemical thujone. It is thought to affect the brain by blocking an acid that inhibits nerve impulses; this is why high levels of thujone are said to cause hallucinations, yet some argue there is no proof this actually happens. Either way, the levels of thujone in modern absinthe are quite low. Many of the historical ill effects of absinthe are now attributed to dangerous additives used in less-expensive bottles. However, while I’d swear the buzz caused by drinking absinthe has a distinctly different feel – and I wasn’t the only one speaking gibberish – no one (as far as I know) saw demons or tried to cut off any body parts. So if you’re feeling adventurous, or you want to refinish your furniture, order a bottle of absinthe and see what it does, or doesn’t do, for you.