BOOZE TYPE: Absinthe!!
PRICE: $59.99 at Astor Center
RATING: A+
Since I was a ridiculous goth teenager, I have had wild fantasies about drinking absinthe. It’s very likely that these fantasies starred Gary Oldman, or possibly Trent Reznor. There was even a point in my life where I tried to make my own absinthe, sending a friend to pick up the right herbs, and stealing my mom’s vodka to seal the whole mess up in a mason jar. I was never brave enough to drink it, but the bonus of that experiences was that when my mom later drank that vodka (after I had filled it back up with water to cover up what I had stolen), she kept commenting on how smoooooth it was. Hilarity!
I’ve considered importing absinthe from other countries, at risk of it getting snatched by customs or being a terrible product, but now getting the green stuff is as simple as going down to my beloved corner liquor store, thanks to Lucid finding legal loopholes to bring absinthe back to the US for the first time in, what, 90 years?
First things first, no, absinthe doesn’t make you hallucinate. Or if it does, it has nothing to do with the wormwood or the amount of thujone. Any crazed effects are due to the fact that this stuff is a solid 62% alcohol, which is a serious kick in the drawers. I drank it in the classic fashion involving sugar and water, although since I lacked a traditional slotted absinthe spoon (they just don’t have them in the Martha Stewart Living collection at K-Mart, for some reason), I used a wire mesh tea ball that I inexplicably have. I poured around an ounce of absinthe into a wine glass, then put a sugar cube in the tea ball and dribbled icy cold SmartWater (because we all know that Oscar Wilde loved his SmartWater! I strive for accuracy) over it. I had been sort of doubtful that cold water would dissolve the sugar, but it most certainly did! And the absinthe in the glass became a beautiful milky green-white, and gave off a strong herbal absinthe smell.
I was bracing myself for a rough, bitter experience, and got nothing of the sort! Lucid consumed in this manner was sweet and lovely. Anise was the strongest flavor, naturally, and there were some other herbs that I couldn’t quite place, but they stirred some sort of nostalgia in me, probably for when I was a gothy teenager and always messing around with herbs. The sugar made it nicely sweet, and it was a little tongue-numbing, with just a twist of bitterness in the finish. I tried a little (very little; I just dipped my finger in the glass) of it straight, and I could still taste sweetness in it without the sugar-water dilution, but good god, it was far too strong to drink straight.
I also consumed Lucid in the form of Ernest Hemingway’s “Death in the Afternoon” cocktail: “Pour one jigger absinthe into a Champagne glass. Add iced Champagne until it attains the proper opalescent milkiness. Drink three to five of these slowly.” I used a possibly too-sweet Moscato d’Asti, and only made it slowly through two, but it made a very nice combination. Bubbly absinthe! Delicious.
And finally, the effects. No, I did not hallucinate, but man, it was a drunkenness like no other. The brand name is very apt, since drinking a very small amount (the price point isn’t so painful when you consider how much of an incredible bang for the buck you’re getting) put me into this very clear, bright state of lucid drunkeness. I was hammered both nights I drank the absinthe, but I didn’t feel really hampered or clumsy or slow. I felt like a genius. I wanted to write novels! I had coherent conversations, and felt utterly fantastic. If possible, I would like to feel like I have two glasses of absinthe in me at all times. Is “Absinthe Fiend” still a valid profession? …no? Oh, rats.
Next up will be experimenting with more cocktails. I just have to see how this would mesh with some Hendrick’s Gin.
BUY IT AGAIN: As often as my budget allows. I will be making my budget allow for a lot of it.
