Return of the Green Fairy

We visit a distillery near Tours where an American environmental biologist has recreated absinthe as it was originally made over 100 years ago.

Most people have heard of absinthe's fearsome reputation, but few have tried the real thing. Will Dunn travels to the Loire Valley, where one dedicated distiller has brought the legend back to life. Photography by Roberto Frankenberg

In the town of Saumur, on the banks of the Loire near Tours in central France, they can smell when the American distiller has arrived. The streets and alleys around the old Combier plant fill with a sweet herbal smell, one that hasn’t reached French noses for a very long time – the smell of absinthe. Thanks largely to the efforts of the American, this maligned and misunderstood drink has returned in its true form after almost a century in the shadows.

I bet you’re thinking: “I’ve tasted absinthe before.” After all, the potent green spirit has been served up in flaming cocktails at chic nightclubs all across Europe since it re- emerged in the 1990s. However, as Combier’s chief absinthe distiller (and American), Ted Breaux explains, what you have been drinking is not absinthe. Mind-manglingly alcoholic, yes. But the real tipple of Van Gogh and Hemingway? Mais non, mon Dieu!

“I could take a bottle of cheap white wine, add some red food colouring and try to sell it to you as Château Latour,” says Ted, “but we’d both know there was a big difference. The stuff you see people setting fire to in bars? Same thing. Just cheap alcohol and green food colouring.” Wandering through the distillery at Combier I begin to understand how different the real thing is, and it’s an eye-opener. The distillery itself is a distinguished old place, a relic of an age when machinery, especially brewing machinery, was beautiful. Among an ironwork frame designed by Gustave Eiffel, an intricate system of gleaming copper pipes shudders and hisses under intense heat and pressure. Fragrant steam erupts from vents, and strange liquids bubble through a bewildering array of columns and gauges.

Authenticity is paramount for Ted (known as T.A. Breaux on his bottles), a Louisianan and former environmental biologist. He was the first person to recreate absinthe at Combier in its original form, since it was banned in most of Europe and the US by 1915 amid allegations that it caused hallucinations and even insanity.

Ted’s question had always been: why ban absinthe over other equally dangerous spirits widely available at the time? Could it really be because of its supposed mind-altering effects – and if they were truly hallucinogenic was it true absinthe or the fake stuff, cheap high-proof liquor with added colouring? What had led authorities in Europe to make “La Fée Verte” (“The Green Fairy”), as they called it, an illicit substance, leading to its eventual disappearance?

The drink’s popularity among artists and writers in the late 19th and early 20th century didn’t help. The brilliant but tormented post-impressionist painter Henri de Toulouse- Lautrec is said to have invented the cocktail Tremblement de Terre (or “Earthquake”) – a potent mixture containing three parts absinthe and three parts cognac served shaken with ice – and recorded the resulting antics on canvas at his notorious house parties in Montmartre, Paris. Raddled by alcoholism and syphilis, he died at just 36. Van Gogh was said to take his diluted with black ink. And in later years Ernest Hemingway wrote things like: “Got tight [drunk] last night on absinthe. Did knife tricks.”

But what Ted found was that the ban might also have been a case of big business bending the law to its own ends. So he set out to prove this by finding a way to recreate absinthe as it was made almost a century ago.

“First, I needed a sample from a bottle of original, 100-year-old absinthe, and those are rare, can take years to find and cost thousands of dollars,” says Ted. “So I became a collector of all the vintage absinthes I could find.”

Before his distilling career Ted worked identifying poisons in polluted areas then finding bacteria to clean them up. As a connoisseur of spirits, it was natural that he should go looking for the mysterious molecule that gives absinthe its dangerous allure. In New Orleans he’d even heard of some old bars that still had bottles of original absinthe hidden away. With some years of research and numerous trips to Europe he managed to build up a stock of original absinthes, and used his lab equipment, processes of gas chromatography and mass spectroscopy (try saying that after a glass or two) to test their ingredients.

In 2000, he established that there was nothing in vintage absinthe that would be particularly harmful to a moderate drinker; it was only cheap, nasty spirits and fake absinthes that would have been dangerous.

“Here’s what happened,” explains Ted. “During the 1880s, the wine crop in Europe was devastated by phylloxera [a tiny insect that destroys vines]. By the time the wine industry got back on its feet a decade later, everyone was drinking absinthe. To eliminate the competition, wine producers pointed to the poor health of the alcoholics who drank cheap, industrial absinthe, basically dangerously high- in-alcohol spirits coloured green.

“They said ‘absinthe is bad for you. Ban it!’ Cheap, fake absinthe is essentially mouthwash. Drink a bottle of that every day, while probably being quite malnourished and smoking large quantities of rough tobacco, and of course you’re not going to be healthy.

“But for the vast majority of people, who drank good absinthe, it did no harm at all. And that’s why I couldn’t find anything harmful in vintage absinthe – it wasn’t there. The only danger from absinthe was to the winemakers’ profits. They soon took care of that.”

Having cleared the green fairy’s name, Ted had a revelation. He’d taken vintage absinthe apart, down to the last molecule. Now that he knew exactly what was in it, he knew how to make it. Which brings us to the Loire Valley, and my tour of the Combier distillery where Ted’s science is blended with the distiller’s art.

Combier is part factory, part museum – and it’s wonderful to marvel at the old machinery and learn about the history of France’s favourite drinks. Stepping into the main distilling room is like walking into a mad scientist’s brain. “For an absinthe distiller, there is no better place on the planet to be working,” explains Ted, as he shows me the century-old copper alembics in which he prepares his absinthe, although he explains that vintage equipment doesn’t produce great absinthe without a lot of coaxing.

Ted arrived at Combier after his discovery, and two years searching for vintage absinthe- making equipment without much luck. A friend from Paris mentioned visiting an old, family- owned distillery in the Loire valley and he jumped on a plane. When he got here, he couldn’t believe his eyes: there, in perfect working order, were two copper alembics dating to 1870. They had been sold to the distillery in 1920, just after the ban, by Pernod Fils – one of the big names in 19th-century absinthe. Here was the actual equipment that had been used to make the absinthe Van Gogh would have drunk, and it still worked. He immediately struck a deal with the Combier family – they would let him use the distillery to make absinthe, and he would use his scientific expertise to help them create new liqueurs. By 2004, Ted’s absinthes were winning awards. His knowledge of science combined with the equipment give Ted’s absinthes, which he sells under the labels Jade and Lucid, an authenticity no modern equipment can recreate.

And tasting them in Combier’s sampling room I can see why. The first glass we try is Lucid, Ted’s most popular absinthe. He pours a little into a glass, then slowly adds very cold water. The leaf-green liquid clouds as the water drips in, creating a fog of pearlescent yellow-green known as the “louche”. The flavour is similar to that other French drink, Pastis, but much more complex, dry and subtle. Lucid’s alcohol content weighs in at a hefty 62%, but with the cold water bringing out the flavour there’s no harshness. The overwhelming flavour is of bright, clean herbs, like drinking the air in a high Alpine pasture (three more, and I’ll be singing like Julie Andrews).

Next we taste Nouvelle-Orléans, from Ted’s no-expense-spared Jade brand, and it’s a different flavour again: fine, delicate and powder-dry. It was Nouvelle- Orléans that established Ted as the world’s top absintheur, when it won a perfect score and the gold medal at the 2004 Absinth des Jahres competition.

I can tell how absinthe became the chosen drink of bohemian culture, bewitching everyone from Oscar Wilde to Ernest Hemingway. With its strong, complex flavour and masses of alcohol (Nouvelle-Orléans packs 68%), it can take an hour to finish a glass. This makes it perfect for sitting at a pavement café all day, putting the world to rights and discussing one’s latest masterpiece. By the third glass, I’m definitely feeling more creative, and begin to wonder what will happen if Ted has his way. Will we trade our lager taps for absinthe fountains? Will La Fée Verte inspire a new generation of artists and libertines? I’m willing to let her try.

FOR MORE ON COMBIER, VISIT WWW.COMBIER.FR

How to drink it

You may have seen people setting absinthe on fire. This ritual was invented by UK club promoters in the 1990s, and will only ruin a good absinthe (as well as burn off most of the alcohol). Instead, pour very cold water as slowly as you can into your absinthe until you have a ratio of about five parts water to one part absinthe. A special “absinthe fountain” will do the slow, steady pouring for you. You can pour the water through a sugar cube, using a special spoon, but good absinthe is not bitter so it’s optional.

Where to drink it

To drink with famous ghosts, visit Bar Marsella in Barcelona (65 Carrer de Sant Pau). Opened in 1820, this shady old bar has been serving absenta ever since (absinthe was never banned in Spain). Picasso, Hemingway and Miró are said to have been patrons.

In Paris, head to Cantada II (13 Rue Moret, www.cantada.net). It may look like a tattoo parlour, but it has an incredible array of absinthes, and friendly, well-informed staff.

Two more top French absinthes!

GRANDE ABSENTE

From the fragrant southern French countryside and the Distilleries et Domaines de Provence, founded in 1898, this is a seriously classy, award-winning absinthe. The makers are also famous for their pastis, the classic Provençal drink that rose in popularity after absinthe was banned. For the chance to win two return tickets to Provence and a visit to the distillery (T&Cs apply) go to www.ryanairmag.com/competitions.

€31.61, WWW.DISTILLERIES-PROVENCE.COM

ABSINTHE ROQUETTE 1797

As the name suggests, this is another absinthe recreated from an early recipe – in this case, one found on an 18th-century manuscript. Spicy, unusual and well worth trying, it’s distilled at Pontarlier in eastern France.

£54 (€61), WWW.ABSINTHECLASSICS.COM

Fast facts

SAUMUR AND THE LOIRE VALLEY

GETTING THERE

Tours Val de Loire airport is 5km from Tours and the entry point for the Loire Valley wine region. Ryanair flies to Tours from Dublin, London (Stansted), Marseille Provence MP2 and Porto. The journey into Tours takes 15 minutes by bus or car, and the journey to Saumur just along the river takes an hour by bus, taxi or hire car. Hertz (www.hertz.com) is Ryanair’s exclusive car rental partner and provides special rates for Ryanair passengers.

SAUMUR

Do take a look around the town before starting on the absinthe. Famous for its Cadre Noir school of horsemanship, it’s also home to beautiful buildings made from the local stone, good museums and the must- visit majestic Château de Saumur.

STAYING THERE

Tuck yourself away in the romantic Hôtel Anne d’Anjou (www.hotel-anneanjou.com), an 18th-century mansion house with lots of original features and exceptionally friendly staff. Many rooms have either a view of the Château or the Loire as it trundles sleepily past.