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The Message in the Bottle

Before I move on with the creation of other, more important, sections of this site I couldn't help but continue to dwell on the state of absinthe packaging. Much has been said about Manet's "Le Bar aux Folies-Bergère" so I'm not going add much else--except for this: After we're dismissed by the barmaid our eyes wander. We look about the scene, see the bottles, the fruit, the party going on in the background and, living over 100 years past this moment, nothing is all that familiar. Nothing, that is, except for the bottles of Bass Ale. Now Bass claims the glory of having the first trademark in England. Huzzah! But more importantly they have the ability to claim a very distinctive product. And, for the most part, this can't be said about absinthe. I bring this up only because I like to paint and draw absinthe and absinthe related scenes. Here in the states we have only a few options for distinctive bottles: La Clandestine, Lucid, Le Tourment Vert, La Fee and the rest, while nicely bottled, don't stand out all that much (although the clear bottles will draw an eye because of the green liquid kept inside). If we expand our horizons to Europe, etc. we get a bigger selection of bottles to choose from. Some are clear with big red circles, others bear distinctive shapes, etc. etc. etc. Either way, we're still sorta stuck with a high element of anonymity. But having gone through the Absinthe Drinker's "Absinthe in Art" gallery for a quick review I'm fine with that. Absinthe, as it has appeared in art (read: not advertising), has never been a commercial thing. Bottles don't go randomly showing up with clear identification. There has been no eye catching "that's Oxygenee!" moment while viewing a Jean Béraud. Nor do you trip over a La Fee bottle while staring at a Bronstein. The exception to this rule would be still lifes including a bottle but on a whole, absinthe in art is a byproduct of something far greater than product placement. It is more often than not a companion for us during the highs and lows of the human condition. From the depressed isolation of L'Absinthe to the lovers in Au Cafe an anonymous absinthe is there bearing witness to the drama. And we're not pulled out of the images reality by product placement. There is no "Ooh, that's Bass and I like beer" intrusive thought to pull us away from our humanity. There's nothing but a simple glass filled with a hazy liquid and a story unfolding all around it. And with that said, bottles need to shut up and get out of the way or, at the very least, stay on the top shelf where they belong.

Expensive contents, cheap packaging

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.

Two blogs, different topics

I've had a link to The Real Absinthe Blog up on my site for a while now and while there are many absinthe sites, forums, etc. out there (including this one) that blog is my goto guide for what's going on in the absinthe distribution world. And to the owner's credit, I can't go too far without being forced to credit Alan with most of what I know. Although, I am prone to troubling independent research as far as the drinking is concerned. ;P A new one has now come to my attention (which goes to show you how long I've been hibernating) that focuses on production -- Ridge Distillery's blog. If you don't know about it, you haven't missed much...yet. At the moment, they're testing recipes and getting ready for production. Previous posts show them setting up their still, celebrating TTB approval, etc. In short, it's refreshing to see and creates a wonderful way to draw the consumer in. Not too mention that it It's a wonderful blend of art and craft and humanity. My only hope is that they continue to document the process as it is wonderful to have such an insider's view.

Verte, Blanche: The two towers of absinthe color

Michael Jackson once said that it doesn't matter if your black or white, however, this got me thinking... In practical terms the only two types of absinthe that you'll run up against these days are of the green variety and the white variety. Yes, there is a red variety as well, however, they are far rarer than the previous two so in terms of this post they'll be ignored (or, if you insist, read every mention of "green" as "green and red"...). So, practically speaking, we're stuck with 2 colors or, I should say, one level of saturation. Without discussing the miracle that is distillation and the absinthe making process, I'll stick with simple color analogies. Let's say we are trying to reach color A. Color A needs to be a specific green but the only colors we have to use are ultramarine blue and cadmium yellow. We mix some blue and yellow and get a greenishy-yellow thing, too far! The yellow was too strong for the blue so to bring it down a bit we add more blue. Great, we're now at a slight blueish-green color so we tweak it a bit with a bit more yellow. Ok, great. We're there. But we'ved added so much blue that the green has now darkened down in tone so we're going to have to lighten it a bit. Naturally, we go to our whites. Not too much white since we're not wanting to go grey but just enough white! Uh-oh! the white we added was on the cool side and now we're back to cool light green. Add yellow you say? No, please don't. You'll only waste your time. We've ruined it and must start over. To achieve a clear, however, is a different ball game. Since the game is all about reduction we simply have to reduce and filter out anything that could harm a product that we want to be translucent. Think Adobe Photoshop slider bar--we start with a true color and simply desaturate until it's colorless and lower the opacity until it's clear. If we selected what we needed to select and had our monitors calibrated to a fine degree (for inspection purposes) we should be left with a pure result. If, however, our machine is faulty or we're running on a tight deadline we may miss something and create a flawed result. This method, however, produces far more predictable results than the previous. A bit simple perhaps but useful. Perhaps it is better to think in terms of saturation only. White being completely desaturated and green being fully saturated. Achieving green takes more skill through the addition of another coloring step, achieving white does not since there are no further steps. So how does one review and read the scores of a blanche versus a verte? Clear is clear. I mean, yeah, if it ain't clear it ain't clear. But on the other hand, green poses lots of problems and finding the perfect green is something that is tricky--to say the least. Is it artificial green? too green? not green enough? too much yellow? too light? too dark? etc. etc. etc. These problems don't happen so much with the clear variety. Which brings me to scoring. Once we achieve "clear" there's nowhere left for us to go but down. To quote from WS's review guide: "In a blanche, or white absinthe, the color should be crystal clear and white and free of any tint or hue." Theoretically, a perfectly clear blanche can/should rank at 5 all the time. This, however, is not exactly a good deal since it's nearly impossible for a verte, by their category alone, to get a perfect score. Simply put, there are far too many variables for verte's and far too few for blanches and as such, the blanche's score must be leveraged against the fact that a verte is a far harder production. If anything this caveat needs to be ingrained into the head of the reader so that they may interpret the results correctly: Blanches are clear and they score high in the color category. Some folks rank them as fives, others (taking heed of the verte/blanche issue) rank them down a bit but regardless--unless there's some serious issues with the blanche (which you'd read about in the summaries) it may almost be best to ignore the color ranking altogether. Unfortunately, verte's are a different story as they're a snatch and grab world of subjective nightmares. Read the previous statement: "Is it artificial green? too green? not green enough? too much yellow? too light? too dark? etc. etc. etc." and, as such, that is for another day. In short, go with God, proceed with an educated mind, and be mindful that all reviews are subjective but since I opened with Michael Jackson, I may as well close with a terribly modified paraphrase as well: If you're thinkin' of being my absinthe, it don't matter if you're green or white.

Absinthe, Adultery, Murder, and Merry Christmas!

Since we're about to run smack dab into Christmas I anticipate not being around for a while so I'll leave you with this: In a normal world you'd think that a story about a jealous wife (read: angry Russian woman!) killing her rival and wounding her husband wouldn't provide wonderful descriptions of absinthe. This, however, is no normal world. This is a world that drinks absinthe and has a seriously sour view of Russians in the form of Robert Barr's "Purification". The story centers around the problems of a poor decadent poet named Eugene Caspilier. He's troubled and for good reason. He's a poet, having a fling with a cute little French model, and married to a Russian. The Russian - Madame Valdoreme - is having none of this. She didn't get to become a successful pastry chef for nothing! Anywho, Eugene and his friend hatch a plan over absinthe that is nothing more than genius--Henri (Eugene's friend) will simply explain to Valdoreme that it's perfectly OK for Eugene to have flings because, well, he's a poet and that's what poets do! Valdoreme will understand completely! What reasonable person wouldn't? Well, it wouldn't be a thriller of a story if she did simply because since you can't really get too involved in people sitting around having polite conversation and drinking tea so the writer wisely decides to make the "Russian aborigine" be completely unreasonable with her husband's indiscretions. Murder! Explosions! etc. result. Wacky plot line aside, the story opens in the Café Egalité where Eugene and Henri are prepping and drinking absinthe to these wonderful descriptions: "He sipped his absinthe slowly, as absinthe should be sipped..." "Absinthe is not a liquor to be drunk hastily, or even to be talked over too much in the drinking...the absinthe, in return for this thoughtful consideration, spread over them its benign influence, gradually lifting from their minds all care and worry, dispersing the mental clouds that hover over all men at times, thinning the fog until it disappeared, rather than rolling the vapour away, as the warm sun dissipates into invisibility the opaque morning mists, leaving nothing but clear air all around, and a blue sky overhead." But don't take my word for it... Merry Christmas everybody!

Say what?

I'm not much for coming down on people since we all have to earn a living but this is from the City Wine Cellar @ http://www.citywinecellar.com/store/product/6343/Green-Fairy-Absinthe-75... They're selling the American import of Green Stromu called "Green Fairy". I know this because I've had my share of issues with Stromu in the past (both as a drinker and as an insider). The Czech version bragged of thujone content and I'm a little surprised they're still doing it here in the States. I mean, we have a 10ppm limit and, well, if we're going to brag about thujone, well, something less than 10ppm isn't much of a brag right? Shit, every real absinthe in America currently has thujone and currently has thujone under 10ppm. So the only real brag here is that they call themselves "absinth" instead of "absinthe". Huzzah for you!!!! You're first in a small and annoying category! Anywho, here's what we're left with as a description: "The first legal absinth containing thujone (from wormwood). Produced and bottled in the Czech Republic where they have been making absinth continually since at least the 1800s." Say what?! But I digress... If you want to drink rubbing alcohol that's your business. PS. use the Johnson standard - No louche. No absinthe (don't let the lack of an "e" here fool you) Update: I enjoy the "tell a friend" button on their site. I'd use it, however, to tell a friend to never, ever buy or drink it.
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