Absinthe of malice

>> >> It may have a dangerous reputation, but a more innocent version of a potent liquor will be on local shelves soon

by SARAH MUSGRAVE

These days, it's more on the mild side than the wild side. But absinthe, a potent alcoholic drink said to have both inspirational and destructive qualities, hasn't been this popular since it was banned almost a century ago. The U.K. went gaga over it two years ago. A bar devoted to it just opened in Sao Paolo, Brazil. And there's been an explosion of Internet sites pushing the Green Fairy, known for its emerald colour, aniseed taste and sketchy past linked to the fact that it contains wormwood, a potentially toxic hallucinogen. And now, with announcements that some provincial liquor boards are importing watered-down versions of it, the absinthe revival has officially reached Canada. Bottles will be hitting Montreal stores this spring, and just might set the stage for us to legally sample products with a little more punch in the future.

Trendy tipple takes off

"People are crawling out of the wormwood!" quips Bruce Hackenbeck, co-owner of Mont-Royal hot spot Bily Kun. He became an absinthe fan on visits to Prague and has placed an order with the liquor commission to have a Czech brand called Hill's Absinth imported to this province. Hackenbeck hopes to have the 70 per cent alcohol available at the bar in a few months, where it will retail for $10 or more a shot.

"We're on the crest of a magical wave," agrees a private U.S.-based absinthe memorabilia importer who wishes to be known only as the Empress of Elixirs. She attributes the resurgence of the beverage to an appreciation for the languid enjoyment of food, drink and life. "It is a drink with a rich history," she enthuses, "an elixir of magic and potency, made for sipping not gulping."

Part of the appeal is the ritual and the accoutrements, in this case a slotted spoon, sugar cubes and bottled water that is slowly dripped over the sugar until the green or yellow liquid below turns into a cloudy suspension. Drinking a couple of glasses creates a feeling of euphoria and a heightening of the senses, at once stimulating and relaxing. Imbibing more can be harder to stomach, particularly as the herbs in the mix may delay the realization that you are stinking drunk.

The Empress adds that many of her underground customers are writers and other creative types, who've been searching for the product for years, looking not for gratuitous intoxication but "a voyage to mystical realms." Absinthe's quality as a muse has already surfaced in this city--Hackenbeck mentions an upcoming NFB documentary on absinthe and a play by filmmaker Louis Bélanger that will be entirely written under its influence. Of course, this trendy tipple wouldn't have nearly the same allure if it weren't for its twisted history.

It ain't easy being green Absinthe was first marketed in 1792, by a French doctor living in Switzerland. But its popularity didn't really take off until the late 1800s, when sales got a boost due to the unthinkable: a shortage of wine in France. Many people took up absinthe instead of the overpriced grape, consuming millions of litres in record time.

In the same era, the Impressionists, Toulouse Lautrec, Picasso, Hemingway, Oscar Wilde--and, most famously, Vincent Van Gogh's ear--all fell prey to it. Drinkers slumped over a glass of green stuff became a common sight on canvasses and in cafés, and it wasn't long before the Temperance movement, looking for a scapegoat, arose to fight the scourge. By WWI, it was banned in France, Belgium, Italy, Switzerland and the U.S.

Adding to its disrepute were the large numbers of people apparently suffering from neurological conditions determined to be absinthism. Absinthe's defenders point out that enormous amounts of the spirit were being churned out without rigorous attention to manufacture, so it may have been other substandard ingredients (or just plain alcoholism) that led to the seizures, apathy and mental deterioration it was blamed for.

By the 1920s it was virtually wiped out or at least driven underground, its second wave of popularity almost a century away. In 1990, Hill's started officially making their old recipe again. Then a group of importers called Green Bohemia brought Hill's Absinth to the U.K. at the end of 1998, paving the way for a full-fledged revival in London that ex-pats in cities like Prague and Barcelona were already savouring.

Jonesing for thujone

Absinthe packs a double punch: a 70 per cent alcohol base combined with a potent mixture of herbal essences. Its most controversial ingredient is the wormwood derivative thujone, similar in molecular structure to the active component in pot. (The chemical is also found in vermouth, ravers' fave Vicks Vap-O-Rub and homeopathic remedies.)

According to Health Canada, ingesting high levels of thujone or chronic consumption of low levels can cause digestive problems, convulsions and delirium. "But anyway, absinthe is a strong alcohol and you're not doing your body any favours by drinking it," notes spokesperson Andrew Swift.

The Empress argues that the risks of today's absinthe are minimal. "You would be unbearably drunk before you ever felt any of the 'poisoning' effects of thujone," she points out, adding that the amount of thujone in the absinthe of yesteryear was about 200 times higher than in current products.

The spectre of Van Gogh's severed earlobe is more compelling than any recent incidents involving the elixir: the only current report by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (which has banned thujone as a food additive) mentions a young man who suffered renal failure as a result of drinking essential oil of wormwood after reading about absinthe on the Internet. Diluted dilemma

So far, this province is following on the heels of Ontario, which began importing absinthe-style liqueurs in November of 2000, and B.C., which made a similar decision earlier this month. The Société des Alcools du Québec told the Mirror a product called Versinthe will be on local shelves at the beginning of May.

"It is consumed in the same manner as absinthe," says SAQ spokesperson Linda Bouchard. "And it appears that the taste of the product is very refined and excellent."

But no one, not even the manufacturers, claim that this new French product is actual absinthe. For starters, it's not made with wormwood. Versinthe contains less than two parts thujone per million in 45 per cent alcohol.

Other products we'll be seeing in this country have absinthe connoisseurs turning up their noses. Absente, already available in the U.S., has been approved for sale in Ontario. "The name means absent! It contains no wormwood!" shouts the Empress.

Hill's Absinth contains a minimal amount thujone in 70 per cent alcohol. "It's Windex!" the Empress comments. Trashing Hill's has become popular among the elixir elite, who see it as a weak poster child for the anti-prohibition movement.

Laying down the law

"From what I understand, absinthe is banned in Canada," Bouchard comments. "From what we know, Canadian law permits two parts thujone per billion (milliard) and the SAQ absolutely wants to follow what the government suggests."

Except that there has never been a ban on absinthe in this country. What's more, there are no specific guidelines that deal with the amounts of thujone acceptable under Canadian law. It is up to each province's liquor board to determine what they will offer to consumers, after running their chemical analyses past Health Canada--if they want to.

"We are really just giving advice," explains Health Canada's Swift. "The liquor boards are aware of the danger and they check with us to make sure it is safe. We look at it on a case by case basis to evaluate the thujone levels. We've advised the liquor boards that it should be thujone-free, or contain as little thujone as possible."

Health Canada has set three parts thujone per million as a safe limit. In comparison, the U.K. caps it at 10 parts per million. Stronger absinthes are served in Czech Republic, Spain and Portugal. According to the Empress, the finest absinthe out there is a handmade brand from Switzerland called La Bleue. The high alcohol and wormwood content (70 parts per million) comes at a price--$200 (U.S.) for a bottle.

"It will never be legal in Canada," she says simply.

Future of the Fairy

At least two-dozen brands of absinthe have been available for sale on the Internet for some time, and as usual the law is playing catch-up with technology. So far, Customs Canada is a few steps behind the tastes of a growing market. "Ab-whaaa? Never heard of it!" responds spokesperson Michel Proulx.

As in the U.K., Canada's policy on the Green Fairy is hazy at best: while our neighbours to the south have banned it outright, we remain cautious if slightly confused. Dealers and fans say the availability of toned-down absinthe products could mean it is only a matter of time before the real thing--or at least brands as high in thujone as those in England--are imported here.

In the absence of legislation, the final decision about what will be available to Quebec consumers is in the hands of SAQ bureaucrats. With all the truth and rumours surrounding the revival of the drink, more and more Montrealers may soon be clamouring to decide for themselves.