Boozy McGuzzles

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.

BOOZE TYPE: Gin
PRICE: $29.99 (750ml bottle) at Astor Center
RATING: A++++

I was not always a gin fan. I’m sure a large number of the works of writing about personal experiences with gin begin, “I was not always a gin fan.” Gin is an intimidating sort of alcohol; it’s got all kinds of confusing flavors, and bad gin tastes like something you’d use to sterilize a burn. I avoided gin and made fearful facial expressions at the substance until Thanksgiving of 2005, when I went to see Martha (of 2 Tasty Ladies) and Stephen in San Fransisco. Martha, you see, is a gin-soaked fiend. She loves gin, and has written about the topic quite in quite a lovely manner here and here. She was my Janie Ginnyseed, laying sprinkles of Bombay Sapphire in my heart to grow to a full-fledged love of this most rich, nuanced, complicated, interesting of heavy liquors.

I came home from that trip and started drinking gin and tonics and dirty martinis (and the topic of what should be in a damn martini is the subject for a post to come). Martha had sung the praises of Hendrick’s to me, and I sought it out, but sadly my previous liquor store of choice had what we experts refer to as a totally shit section when it came to gin. But Astor, blessed Astor, has all the fancy gins you could dream of.

To be poetic for a moment, Hendrick’s tastes like music. It is simply beautiful. It has the sharp, crisp scent of juniper, like any gin should, but on the tongue it opens up into this wonderful explosion of cucumbers and roses. This is a gin that is perfectly palatable, and perhaps even preferable (oy, alliteration) when consumed just on the rocks. Or as some might call it, a dry martini, but again, that’s a subject for anothe post. A gin and tonic mixed with Hendrick’s is a different experience from a G&T with any other gin. To start with, they recommend you put slices of cucumber in your drink instead of the usual lime, and I heartily agree with this recommendation. I don’t know if there’s anything more delicious than slices of cucumber that have been soaking in delicious gin and tonic.

Alone, Hendrick’s is a whirlwind on the tongue that makes you close your eyes and say, “Oh.” In a cocktail, it brings a certain unique character and interesting floral hints you wouldn’t find with another gin. I keep meaning to make myself try a different brand, but it’s just so hard.

The only bad thing I have to say about Hendrick’s? It’s bottled in dark glass apothecary-style bottles, and thus it is impossible to tell when you are almost out.

BUY IT AGAIN: Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.