Getting to Know Absinthia Vermut & Her Two Modern Absinthe Fairies
Absinthia Vermut sounds like the name of some sort of fairy you’d encounter after several glasses of her namesake spirit. But she’s an actual person. With green eyes, a nymphlike smile and the last name that’s German for “wormwood” — the herb at the center of absinthe’s pungent, medicinal flavor (and supposed hallucinogenic effects) — fate seems to have chosen her to bring the green liquid properly back into the American palate despite a century’s worth of baggage.
The History of Absinthe
Over a hundred years ago, absinthe was consumed by the millions of liters in France, and 5 in the afternoon was l’heure verte, “the green hour.” But decades of bad press and smear campaigns caused most of Europe to ban it in the late 1900s, condemning it as a gateway to murder and madness. The United States, foreshadowing things to come, followed suit. Happily, prohibition often has the opposite effect on Americans.
In the states, bootleg absinthe wound its way into hearts and livers of the Lost Generation and their admirers, and eventually fringe soirées like the San Francisco Cacophony Society‘s 1996 wake for Marcel Proust.
Absinthia Meets Absinthe
It was indeed at the Cacophony Society’s wake for Proust, at the head of a coffin containing an effigy cake of the French writer, that Absinthia Vermut encountered “a crystal bowl full of green liquid.” She recalls, “I’d sort of heard of absinthe, and it kind of scared me, I walked away, I didn’t know what it was. But then I came back, got my nerve up, poured myself a glass and loved it. I met a lot of people who I’m still friends with that night and it was just an incredible evening.”
The absinthe, though, was hardly authentic. “My friend who made it gave me the recipe… it called for Everclear, some food coloring, some anise and wormwood tinctures from someplace in the Mission District that I’m sure is now long gone.” But she started showing up at further Society events with her own version of the homebrew, enhancing it over time. Eventually, friends gave her a new name. Absinthia — her legal middle name, now —sought to make an organic and legitimate absinthe that was a step above the Everclear cocktail and could rebut biases that it was toxic, but information on legitimate absinthe was scarce at the time. Over the course of “a lot” of parties, events, birthday gifts, she perfected her recipe, tweaking for flavor profiles and a more healthful ingredient base.
Legalization of Absinthe
Banned since 1912, absinthe became legal in 2007 provided each bottle contained less than 10 parts per million of thujone. This allegedly psychoactive stimulant, derived from wormwood or Artemisia absinthium, was what'd been technically banned — but "absinthe" without wormwood falls flat.
It’d been ninety-five years since it’d last appeared on American shelves — but the products now appearing weren’t up to Absinthia’s standards. Ten years — plus a business plan, a business degree and a great deal more refinement — later, she launched Absinthia’s absinthe blanche, then absinthe verte (both 55% ABV, $44.99 ). Once limited to eccentric evenings in the Bay Area, she now exports her bottles to over forty states.
Absinthia’s absinthe blanche “The White Fairy”
Blanche, or “white” in French, refers to the clear, gin-like clarity of this absinthe which is bottled with no additional coloration from herbs. Originally, absinthe blanche was created for furtive enjoyment during the bans, with no telltale green hue to give it away. But the result is a lighter, smoother absinthe that is an excellent introduction to the spirit.
You can sip this neat, but to the uninitiated it may kick like ether. Both Absinthia’s absinthes are 110 proof and can sting your tastebuds past the sensitivity required to taste the rich bouquet that greets you on the nose: anise, fennel, warm lavender, cherry tree bark, maybe even Good & Plentys or better yet, honey from mint blossoms. Its sweet herbaceousness will remind you of cool, spring mornings in the woods.
So drop in an ice sphere or just a teaspoon of cold water and witness a beautiful bloom of mist developing into a full, milky fog. This is the louche — hydrophobic oils suspended in the ethanol of the absinthe, drawn out by the water and stubbornly refusing to dissolve. It’s part of the show and even lends a bit of texture and elusive mouthfeel on your tongue. It shows up beautifully in the blanche in a way you won’t quite see in the green, and it’s a great little parlor trick for guests. Sniff deeply, then take just enough to cover your tongue: you’ll get a rich, silky taste of late-summer and early fall spices like nutmeg and wet allspice, even. You’ll taste exactly the herbs intended: anise and licorice again, but then that distinctly bittersweet twist of wormwood, washing back into coriander and cotton candy. Together, they’re a swirling flavor resembling the taste and feel of cool water after you’ve nursed a peppermint for a few minutes. Present too is that refreshing sting, even when diluted, that leaves your tongue tickled.
Blanche could be considered training wheels for absinthe verte, but it’s a pleasant, lighter aperitif that might be more approachable for a summer sip or for absinthe-wary guests.
Absinthia’s absinthe verte “The Green Fairy”
Verte, or “green” in French, is almost the color of mature bluegrass, a vibrant and organic hue that makes artificially-dyed absinthes look downright fluorescent. In addition to being more appealing to the eye, there’s an additional melody of flavors here that make for a rich cocktail or a satisfying, slow sip over ice.
On the nose, verte is a richer bouquet; there’s more going on here, of course, but part of that is that the additional herbs that weren’t softened by the distilling process. Atop the nose of the blanche, there’s a bold note of fresh ground pepper; hot sunlight has poked into that cool morning and warmed things up. I’m faintly reminded of the smell of fresh-picked morel mushrooms. You might find woodland spices you’re more familiar with. Take a snip and be transported to a spice market, fragrant oudh mixing with mint and sandalwood, softening into more familiar flavors of anise, black tea and mint. Your tongue will sing and sting simultaneously.
How to Enjoy Absinthia’s Absinthes
“I found that people ask me, now that I have two products, ‘which one is dry, which one is sweet?’” laughs Absinthia. “That’s not really relevant to absinthe, but I do understand the question. The blanche is more sweet, the verte is more ‘dry,’ but really what I think it is the verte is more herbal.” Complex and full-bodied, too; but not to the point of drowning itself out.
As a result, you might save the verte for the fellow absinthe aficionados, or for your premier cocktail of the evening. And of absinthe cocktails, there is no shortage. Absinthia’s website features over a hundred recipes for cocktails that can handily be searched by secondary ingredient. “The reason why I have over a hundred recipes on the website is because… Americans aren’t going to come to absinthe through the louche, it’s not in our flavor palate. They’re going to come to it through the cocktail,” Absinthia admits. And it’s not a bad way to meet.
Both the verte or blanche is versatile enough to compete with almost anything in your liquor cabinet or play second fiddle if need be. Absinthia recommends a Tuxedo # 2 or perhaps the grandaddy of cocktails, the Sazerac. I’d add another: Hemingway’s Death in the Afternoon is a sinfully refreshing way to find yourself absinthe-minded at 5PM on a July weekend, as well as pull out softer flavor notes with a good Champagne, which tames the spirit nicely.
Absinthia can be enjoyed in over forty states, although Illinois law, in particular, continues to eye the smaller brand with teetotaling wariness. Worry not if your state isn’t one of them, says Absinthia: “I’m not giving up.” And if your state is among the lucky ones, try a bottle of the Blanche (or Verte, if you’re feeling bold) to refresh your cocktail offerings this summer. Its lush, dynamic flavors are ideal for a sophisticated summer sip.