I recently stumbled upon the news that The Absinthe Drinkers, a famous painting by Jean-François Raffaëlli, had found a new home in San Francisco's de Young Museum. Having sampled absinthe craft-brewed in the southern Appalachians years ago, I found myself wondering what had become of the drink known colloquially as the “green fairy.” Had San Franciscan artists taken to it since it regained legal status in 2007? And was it as good as that cloudy, illicit drink I had tasted a continent away, perfected by mountain folk who think of it as moonshine with a twist?
It didn’t take me long to realize I wouldn’t have to travel far to get to the source: St. George Spirits in Alameda had been the first distillery to produce and sell absinthe in the United States post-ban. I decided to start my quest there.
When I arrive at St. George, Lance Winters, the mastermind behind the magic mix, greets me with a friendly smile. “Hop in the car, I have to go check on something.” I’m immediately whisked away on a mission. In the car, he tells me how he came to brew his first batch of absinthe 12 years ago. “I was into beer brewing, and brewing is just the gateway drug that leads to distilling spirits,” he jokes. The more he craft-distilled for his own consumption, the better his recipes became, and the more he wanted to share them.
We enter one of Alameda's ubiquitous warehouses, packed with antiques, and I realize we’re at an auction. Lance is looking to bid on a root beer barrel with taps so he can serve the “Root of All Evil” in his tasting room. The drink is his wife's favorite way to imbibe absinthe. It combines a shot of absinthe and fancy, craft-brewed root beer.
Lance explains that absinthe recipes vary and are closely guarded by their holders. He himself produced about 10 experimental batches before perfecting the St. George recipe. “I even threw my Christmas tree into one of the batches,” he admits. “Noble Fir has such a bold flavor.” He assures me that absinthe is not hallucinogenic, which is good – because it’s only 10:30 in the morning, and I'm about to start drinking the stuff.
We’re back at the distillery and seated in Lance’s office – a science lab of sorts – and he pulls out one of St. George's first bottles. It has the original label, which the government did not approve. “Apparently they thought the monkey beating on a human skull implied hallucination. I asked them if a monkey in a wing-backed armchair would also imply hallucination, and they said, 'no, that's fine,' which is strange because to me it does imply hallucination. I mean, when have you ever seen a monkey in a wing-backed chair?”
The hardest part about releasing the new product was to keep jumping though the regulatory hoops of labeling. “They even said that the label looked similar to a pound note. No liquor label is allowed to resemble money, and so this raised an objection as to how the monkey was framed on our label. I told them, 'It's an ugly monkey but it's no Queen Elizabeth,' and the label was finally approved.”
We enter the tasting room, which opens out onto a spectacular view of downtown San Francisco. Finally, I get to try St. George's absinthe, both neat and on the rocks. Neat is tasty, but on the rocks is served up in a special handblown glass that puts the lava lamp effect of the louche on display. The louche, a clouding of the liquid when mixed with water, is caused when the essential oils suspended in the high-proof liquor precipitate out.
“I think artists are inspired by this drink because of the louche. Absinthe predates the lava lamp, and this transformation must have attracted them. Transformation has always been an important art theme,” Lance says. He launches into a story about how he had been stationed at the distillery years ago when it was a naval base. It’s funny how life can bring you full circle. In fact, everything is suddenly funny. I feel like I need a nap before exploring further.
I want to try absinthe in a modern cocktail, so I head down to the Burritt Room in the heart of San Francisco. Recently opened, it already has a sterling reputation for creative concoctions.
No one ventures this far up Stockton without a reason, and I've never had a reason before. The tunnel keeps wanderers away – like the mouth of a great and hungry beast, it’s an uninviting portal. There is no sign out front announcing the presence of the Burritt Room, and feeling self-conscious in my casual garb, I enter the lobby of the Crescent Hotel. I'm pointed to a stairwell leading upstairs.
Only one piece of art graces the bar: a painting of a woman in a black dress holding a violin. Mirrors anchor the decor, and the music is classy and unobtrusive to conversation. A couple catches my eye as they enter the bar, he in a bowler hat and devilish goatee, complete with waxed mustache. She sports feathers and a red scarf. They join some friends – handshakes and hugs all around. An arm around a waist, a discreet smile. People come here to flirt. Was this the inspiration for the absinthe paintings I had seen in historical records?
I’m introduced to Kevin Diedrich, the Burritt Room's director of beverages and Matthew Meidinger, who manages everything on the other side of the bar. Handsome, dark, poised, and confident in a black jacket and slacks, Kevin tests a drink with a straw, smiles, and tosses the straw aside. Matthew seems energized and carries himself with the grace of a man who is living his dream, and working hard every moment to keep it that way.
I ask them both when they first tried absinthe. Before the ban was lifted, Matthew had tried some in college – a bottle brought back into the country from Europe. Kevin had sampled some from the Czech Republic. “It was awful,” he says. “So much of the history behind absinthe was misinformed. The absinthe of a hundred years ago was poorly made, and in most cases horrendously low quality. I think they were hallucinating from alcohol poisoning.”
The Burritt Room carries three brands of absinthe, all brands Lance had also recommended to me (his own included, of course): St. George, Kublër, and Sirène sit on the shelf. “I'm excited to have a classic ingredient coming back. It's one more thing to play with, like a new toy,” Kevin tells me as he sets a drink before me.
It’s the Lavender Thief and the absinthe really comes through – the green fairy dancing with the witch (as Strega, an herbal liqueur is sometimes called). The absinthe gently complements the blend of flavors. There is no overwhelming black jelly bean taste that the straight absinthe is generally associated with. “Whenever you see absinthe featured on a cocktail menu it is almost always just a splash or a rinse. It takes ownership of the entire mix if it’s overdone,” he explains.
The Tuxedo No. 2 is dry, strongly citrus, and clear. Chilled and clean, it is a martini in spirit with a mysterious element. A man walks in, date in tow – hip San Francisco on display – she is wearing an old striped sweater and lipstick, he has a shaggy haircut. She orders the Lavender Thief. I ask if she has tried absinthe before. She’d only had it in Europe, on an airplane. “Is it hallucinogenic?” she wants to know. I assure her it isn’t. They tell me they entered through the alley rather than the hotel lobby. Burritt Alley is a famous but hidden San Francisco treasure featured in The Maltese Falcon.
By now David, another Burritt Room bartender, has set me up with a final drink – the Sirène, one rock. I add some water myself, mesmerized as the louche swirls. Halfway through my cocktail, the buzz starts to hit me. It is a buzz with its own character. Think of a tequila buzz and a vodka buzz – they are undeniably different. Absinthe is similarly different. It’s like being able to observe yourself from afar, and in a seemingly lucid state say, “that guy at the bar is rather buzzed.” I think that's the allure it has for writers.
In the end I decide to leave through the Burritt Alley entrance, the damp chill of the fresh night air perking me up as I fly with the green fairy into the San Francisco night.
On your own quest to find the green fairy? Lance Winters and the great folks at St. George Spirits distillery in Alameda are waiting for you to sip some absinthe in their tasting room. Bring an active sense of humor and ask Lance for stories about his experimental early batches. At the Burritt Room, the bartenders are always finding unique ways to use absinthe in their tasty and original cocktails, so be sure to ask what's new. Remember, the bar is not well marked, so stop before the bridge on Stockton Street, look for the Crescent Hotel, and head up the stairs.
Here are a couple of fine absinthe cocktail recipes, compliments of the Burritt Room, should you want to try them at home:
Tuxedo No. 2
1 1/2 parts gin,
1 1/2 parts French vermouth
Dash of maraschino
2 dashes orange bitters
Absinthe rinse
Lemon peel
Stir and strain into a chilled cocktail glass
The Lavender Thief
2 parts Old Tom gin
1 1/2 parts lavender honey
3/4 parts lemon
1/2 parts Strega
Dash of absinthe
Top with soda water
Add a dried lavender sprig for garnish
Serve in a Collins glass
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Laureilly1990
I smuggled a couple of bottles of La Fee absinthe back from Italy a few years ago in Sprite bottles (I thought I was very clever). Even with the classiness forfeited, it was still a remarkable experience. I agree with your sentiment about feeling removed from yourself under it's influence and am inspired to try it the right way this time.
Run Your Mouth