Irish pubs may be gearing up for St. Patrick’s Day, but this Sunday marks another green-hued, boozy celebration: National Absinthe Day. The Swiss drink was banned in the U.S. until 2007, and since then its enthusiasts have been working hard to challenge the spirit’s illicit reputation. But have those efforts paid off?
One major part of that challenge is simply demystifying the oft-misunderstood spirit.
Absinthe is a high proof spirit flavored predominantly with the holy trinity of anise, fennel, and wormwood, an ingredient that has been used medicinally since ancient times. The drink was popularized from a medicinal to a recreational beverage in the 1800s, but eventually became a victim of its own success.
“The wine industry in the late 1800s could not compete with absinthe and they needed to do something to kill their competitor,” said Absinthia Vermut, founder of Absinthia’s Bottle Spirits, a craft Bay Area producer. “So they started lying about wormwood and making up stories.”
Wormwood—which possesses a chemical called thujone that can be a convulsant at extremely high doses— became a convenient scapegoat for alcoholism-related deaths. Fueled by the temperance movement, the drink was banned in most European countries, despite the fact that there isn’t enough thujone in absinthe to cause any harm. It was legalized across Europe beginning in the late 1980s and finally in the U.S. in 2007.
But Vermut bootlegged her own version of the spirit to mixologists and friends well before that. The art history buff fell in love with absinthe in 1996, putting her on a path to change her legal name; once the spirit was legalized, she formalized the business. She launched today’s iteration in 2017 and within months earned a gold medal at the San Francisco World Spirits Competition.
She now produces three absinthe expressions: one clear, one green (which gets its color from resting in its botanicals) and one barrel aged. Non-alcoholic syrups have also been incorporated into the business – one called Fairy Dust is absinthe-inspired.
“That was an answer to a surprisingly large amount of customers who would say they really loved absinthe, but that they don’t drink alcohol anymore,” she said.
The syrups have gotten a boost from no- and low-alc trends, but the absinthe side of the business is still finding its footing after her primary accounts, high-end cocktail bars, took a hit during the pandemic. It wasn’t the first time the spirit was impacted by larger economic conditions.
“Absinthe gained awareness and fascination with consumers following its U.S. legalization in 2007,” said Adam Rogers, research director of IWSR Drinks Market Analysis. “Unfortunately, the gained interest was subdued once the recession hit the market in late 2008.”
Consumer experimentation fell, and trading down to more affordable products became the trend, he said. This particularly impacted absinthe’s growth, considering its higher-than-average price point. Its volume fell by 38% by the end of 2010, although since then it’s remained relatively stable with slight ups and downs. Volumes were flat through the pandemic: cocktailing at home seems to have made up for losses experienced in the on-premise.
Last January Vermut’s bar and restaurant business picked up again: her wholesale revenue that month amounted to more than the last two years combined. The spirits are now distributed in New York, Florida, Louisiana, California, and sell online to about 30 states.
Several other American distillers have produced their versions of the green fairy: St. George Spirits launched the first, Leopold Bros came shortly after, and Copper & Kings has made brandy-based versions since its inception in 2014.
But American distillers face several hurdles to mainstreaming the spirit. Beyond its mythical reputation, a crop of non-craft brands that emerged after legalization have turned people off, Vermut said.
“What’s happened in the industry in the last 15 years is that a lot of really terrible absinthes have come out,” she said. “They’re gimmicks, they don’t taste good, they’re not true absinthes.”
Regulations have also muddied the green waters. U.S.-made absinthes must contain less than 10 parts per million of thujone, versus 35 in European absinthe, creating the perception that the American versions aren’t authentic. Ironically, some European versions are artificially flavored or colored.
“The folklore of absinthe has always been a draw and many people are always looking for original absinthe that has a higher percentage of wormwood,” said Magid Nazari, owner of bottle shop Ludwig’s Fine Wine & Spirits in San Anselmo, California. “We sell so few bottles I can’t say there’s a top selling brand.”
Interest is slowly growing, but absinthe is still considered a micro market with most shoppers incorporating it into a cocktail recipe, he added. Those cocktail recipes might include classic cocktails like the sazerac, but modern mixologists have found other ways to highlight the spirit into their menus.
“Usually what happens is I’ll find folks who are just interested in being introduced to things that are new or already know herbaceous flavors and flavor profiles, as the modern cocktail tastes have so have changed so dramatically over the last 20 years,” said Jared Hirsch, bar lead at Quince & Co, the hospitality group responsible for San Francisco’s three-Michelin starred Quince, Cotogna and Verjus.
Fennel and its analogs have grown in popularity in drinks, he said, giving the spirit potential, especially versions like Vermut’s that use natural ingredients are more delicate than those packing a black licorice punch. Hirsch uses it as a main ingredient in cocktails, or pairs it with gin and agave spirits. But even in a culinary capital like San Francisco, cocktail drinkers still mix up myths with the facts.
“Education still remains an issue for absinthe,” he said. “It still has that connotation of being something illicit which is something that our industry tries very hard to differentiate itself from.”