Earlier this year I was just about to give up on absinthe and crawl back into the hole of Wild Irish Rose that I once knew so well--then
this came into my life and drug me back in:
Years back my Dad was rebuilding my Grandma's garage. The garage was initially built around 1910-5 (initially meant for carriages then converted for cars then converted for bigger cars, etc.). One of the phases of the remodel was to cut out the original floor and dig to put in the footings, etc. for a new concrete floor. During the dig he stumbled upon a cache of old junk, bottles, etc. This isn't uncommon and jives with just about where the old outhouse used to be prior to the carriage house/garage. He dug and dug and dug and pulled out bottles buy the score. Some were neat but nothing unusual.
Flash forward to this summer.
I was down in my Grandma's basement to help rebuild a wall and other minor repair. I noticed, sitting on the wall, a dark green bottle. Being curious I picked it up and noticed the words "Pernod Fils" pressed into the glass. Excited, I asked about keeping it, inquired about its origin (see above), and now I have a Pernod Fils bottle by pure happenstance. Tada!
The bottle amazes me. While looking at it you can see swirls in the glass, bubbles, etc. In short, everything about it screams unique and quality. Which brings me to the point of this post.
Back in the day, Pernod Fils was the benchmark against which most all other absinthes were compared. Sadly, this is no longer true and aside from saying that I see no reason to waste 65 dollars when there are far better absinthes available for that price (
but for a more in depth survey of the new Pernod go here).
But upon the discovery of an ancient Pernod Fils bottle and a brief exploration through the wide world of absinthe bottles (or any other bottle for that matter) leaves me wanting.
We all know that taste is a tricky thing and that it all comes down to your subjective reality: if you like it, and if you can stand the harsh criticism then, by all means, make it your own. Bottles, however, are not subject to these windblown rules. Bottles fall strictly into the category of cold, hard objective aesthetics and cheap bottles piss me off.
I suspect the logic of these bottles are to appeal to the greatest amount of people. Blanches are in shiny green bottles, Vertes are in clear bottles, etc. There are some bottles that even feature mystical clouds and vapor trails! It's absinthe! Oh what fun! It's fun until you buy a green bottle and find out that the contents are clear. You wonder what happened. You wonder if you bought the right thing. And then you curse the fact that you spent all this money to show up your friends when you're left with a product that looks like water and not "absinthe". I say all this with this proverb in mind:
The lips of an adulteress drip with honey, and her mouth is smoother than oil; But in the end she is as bitter as wormwood, as sharp as a two-edged sword.
-- Proverbs 5:3-4
I suspect that's why I love the bottles that simply present themselves to you in a nonchalant manner. They don't glare at you from the shelf and they scream their brand name at you, in fact, they don't do anything at all other than just stand there. If you want to buy them, go ahead--they're cool with it. Take them home and you're guaranteed a good time. A simple look at the following should clear things up a bit:
La Clandestine's blue bottle doesn't lead you astray like some blanches do. Blue = Blanche = Switzerland = Alps = Alpine = Refreshing.
Jade's bottles do the same. Dark color = protection = value = verte = absinthe ritual = savoring = French = low light and conversation.
Marteaux, Pernot, etc. follow the logic as well.
I guess what I'm getting at is that absinthe follows a certain logic that is its own. And as I've stated before, it's not like the others. Quality absinthe is a slow drink and a respectable drink. Quality absinthe doesn't glare at you or tell you lies about itself and, honestly, neither should its bottles.
