"What’s that?"
"Spinach."
"No, above that."
"That? That’s my absinthe."
"!!!"

Ever since I read this book almost ten years ago, I’ve wanted to try absinthe. Not the current Pernod - the wormwood-free imitation of its ban-prone ancestor - but the kind they still make in Spain and the Czech Republic and a few other places in Europe. I gather there was a lot of mystique marketing around it when absinthe was gaining popularity in Britain a few years ago, and Canada has been allowing the import and sale of absinthe.

I hereby predict that the forces of industry will get the ban lifted in the U.S. within a few years, at which point all kinds of fin-de-siècle themed clubs will throw open their doors and the soundtrack to Moulin Rouge (short-cycle retro by then) will blare forth and every other joint will sell coy cocktails like the "Absinthe-Minded Professor". Mark my words, people - it’ll be the new Mojito.

In the meantime, here are my observations about absinthe from the other night:

It was really more bluish than greenish.

The smell was rich and herbal, and it took me several sniffs to realize that it smelled just like The Kiva, a health food store in Eugene, Oregon.

The bottle mentioned the Czech version of dropping sugar into the glass, i.e. burning the sugar to caramelize it first. S and I dipped our spoons into our glasses, then set the absinthe-doused sugar on fire. Actually, we set the 140-proof absinthe on fire, and it burned with a gorgeous blue flame that went out when the alcohol was gone, not even browning the sugar.

So I can’t report on the taste of absinthe with caramelized sugar.

I thought the absinthe would turn cloudy when we dropped the sugar in, but when I got home last night I remembered that it’s actually supposed to turn cloudy when you put water in it. I completely forgot about putting water in it. Didn’t even consider it. Neither did S. And we didn't do shots - we sipped. We are a couple of tough dames.

Apparently the kind we had wouldn’t have turned milky, anyway, because it doesn’t have enough anise in it.

No ill effects, apart from what I’d expect from two ounces of 140-proof liquor.

Ooh, look - an absinthe related link (courtesy E, via boingboing) that actually makes me glad I sputtered my way through the preface to Miss Julie so many times!