Absinthe: Wilde, Hemingway & Leibovitz

Absinthe Robette

Oscar Wilde said "Absinthe was as poetical as anything in the world."

Absinthe was called "la fée verte" (the green fairy) and was so popular by the 1860’s (French Legionnaires had been given it for malaria and developed a taste for it when they returned home), that 5 pm was called “l’heure verte” (the green hour) in France. So much so that the drink became something of a scourge to the lower classes.* Since it has been fairly well disproved that absinthe’s wormwood component, with its small amount of the notorious chemical thujone (also in sage and some mint) played much of a part in this, the high alcohol content (often 120 Proof or more) was probably the real culprit for the physical and mental decline of its abusers.


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Glass and Spoon from Absinthe Devil

Early on, absinthe was only served with a glass, ice water and sugar and the customer would mix them together themselves. * Soon a shallow dish that sat on top of the absinthe with a small hole in its bottom called a Brouilleur or Plateau was used (although they could be complicated devices that would drip mechanically like the Auto Verseur –amazing to watch in action at Vertdabsinthe ) .


Photo from the virtual absinthe museum

With the absinthe fountain (a glass container of ice water with 2 to 6 robinets or spigots) many sugar cubes could be dripped upon at once using lovely spoons and glasses for that purpose. However it’s done, this is a slow process!


2 Robinet Absinthe Fountain from Absinthe Devil 

Glasses that were specifically made for absinthe “had a dose line, bulge, or bubble in the lower portion denoting how much absinthe should be poured in. One "dose" of absinthe is around 1 ounce (30 ml) with water added in a 3 to 1 ratio.” Wikipedia tells us.

Eric Asimov for the NYT’s said: “Water not only changes the flavors, it almost magically alters the appearance of the absinthe. As you slowly add water, the liquid in the glass seems to thicken, and transforms into an opalescent pastel cloud, seeping down into a pool of green like sweetened tears. The French call this effect the louche (which has the wonderful double meaning of turbulent in French and disreputable in English). Technically, when absinthe is distilled, the anise and fennel oils dissolve into the alcohol. As the water dilutes the alcohol, it frees the oils from their molecular prison, and they form a cloudy suspension.”

Now to confuse you completely, there are clear absinthes called Blanche or la Bleue that turn a brilliant white in the glass when water is added instead of the usual cloudy green.


Hitchcock’s Suspicion

Think of the great scene from Hitchcock’s “Suspicion” when Cary Grant carries that too white milk (yes there was a light bulb involved) up the stairs to the not-as-gullible-as-she-used-to-be Joan Fontaine


Hitchcock’s Suspicion


The clear Germain-Robin Absinthe Superiure that I tried did just that. Turned white as white could be.

Limelight Painting by Detlef Kotzte, Glass and Spoon from Absinthe Devil

Eric Asimov, wine critic for the NYT’s, recommended this absinthe. I usually agree with his taste (critics have personalities too!) and have been inspired by his column to try so many things. He got my attention when he said Germain-Robin “begins by distilling an almost biblical-sounding eau de vie, of apples and honey. After steeping herbs and botanicals in the eau de vie, he [Crispin Cain the distiller] gradually adds water, then distills it again. The exquisite result is an absinthe of unusual purity, with a natural sweetness that requires no added sugar.”



Far be it from me to try to describe alcohol or perfume properly, but the taste is clear like an Eau de Vie… a very complex Eau de Vie with a million little quiet back flavors. I agreed with The Wormwood Society when they said it was: “Subtle, complex, and absolutely beautiful” (call me a troglodyte but I did like a swish of sugar). Wouldn’t that make you want to give it a try?


Leal da Camara 1903 L’Assiette au Beurre 

Although wrongfully vilified and outlawed for 100 years, (and perhaps because of its bad reputation) Absinthe.com reveals I’m not the only one to fall under its spell, ”absinthe inspired many prominent artists, writers and poets like Vincent Van Gogh, Oscar Wilde, Manet and Ernest Hemingway - in fact his masterpiece " For Whom The Bell Tolls " was written under the influence of "The Green Fairy".”



Harold McGee, in the NYT’s, found Hemingway’s recipe for an absinthe cocktail in a celebrity recipe book:

Hemingway's Absinthe Champagne

“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.”

(you should read the article… amazing revelation that champagne bubbles are mostly caused by cellulose and cotton fibers---dust!!)



Every time I watch the scene in Bram Stoker's Dracula where Gary and Winona do that pas de trois with the Green fairy and Oldman calls it “the aphrodisiac of the self” with that perfect accent, I swoon (watch here). I’ll admit, that wicked reputation has been enticing me for ever so long, and at last I got the chance to give the green fairy a spin around the block using St. George’s inestimable Absinthe Verte (fine brandy infused with wormwood, anise, fennel, hyssop, basil, tarragon, lemon balm, meadowsweet, mint, and stinging nettles), for my ride!

So I got myself a glass of absinthe, turned on the oven, baked a fabulous David Lebovitz Absinthe Cake from The Sweet Life in Paris: Delicious Adventures in the World's Most Glorious - and Perplexing - City



I took a picture) and then ate it with another perfectly louched glass of la fée verte Hemingway style with champagne as l’heure verte quickly approached.

I would like to make a virtual toast to my fallen friend, KG Cannon, one of the most generous humans I ever knew. I had wanted to give him an Absinthe birthday party this weekend. He would have loved the ceremony of the green fairy because he loved ceremony, fine things and well-set tables, believing as he did “ it is truly useful since it is beautiful”. Farewell my dear friend, who always reminded me: “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” (The Little Prince was his favorite book).

Absinthe Cake Adapted from David Leibovitz Recipe

1 ¼ teaspoon anise seeds

1 ¼ cup cake flour
 (didn’t have it so I added a T of cornstarch)
½ cup plus 2 tablespoons pistachio or almond meal (that can be made in the spice grinder but make sure they are not salted!!!!) or stone-ground yellow cornmeal. Try to make the pistachio for the beautiful color and flavor it gives.
2 teaspoons baking powder (no aluminum is best)
¼ teaspoon salt

8 tablespoons room temperature
 unsalted butter
1 cup granulated sugar

2 room temperature
 large eggs, (or 3 small)
¼ cup milk

¼ cup Absinthe
 ( I used Absinthe Verte-but you could use Pernod))
¼ to ½ tsp. orange Zest

For the Absinthe glaze:

¼ cup sugar
( I used regular Whole Foods Organic and a large grain Demerara)
¼ cup Absinthe

1. Preheat the oven to 350º. After you butter a 9-inch loaf pan, line the bottom with parchment paper.

2. Grind the anise seeds until fine. Sift together the flour, pistachio meal, baking powder, salt, and anise seeds.

3. Beat the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, until they're completely incorporated.

4. Mix together the milk and Absinthe with orange zest.

5. Stir half of the dry ingredients into the beaten butter, then the milk and Absinthe mixture.

6. By hand, stir in the other half of the dry ingredients until just smooth and no more. Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan and bake for about 40 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

7. Remove the cake from the oven and let cool 30 minutes.

8. To glaze the cake, use a toothpick and poke holes all over the top of the cake. In a small bowl, gently stir together the sugar and Absinthe until just mixed. (and more orange zest if you wish) Leave the texture sandy… it will sparkle!

9. Remove the cake from the loaf pan and set the cake on a rack.

10. Spoon Absinthe glaze over the top and sides of the cake, allowing it to soak the top and spill down the sides a bit. Continue until all glaze is used up.

Oscar Wilde 1882 by Napoleon Sarony (Library of Congress)

I wanted to use an Oscar Wilde (1854-1900) quote to begin this post on absinthe but discovered that the famous quote I wanted kept appearing with different wording! It had to do with stages of absinthe inebriation. The Virtual Absinthe Museum saw the same problem and discovered 2 sources penned 30 at most 50 years after his death. Kudos! Two versions! This was the reason that I kept seeing it quoted differently! Such are the ways of memory. As Previously noted, the recent death of a great friend and raconteur of Wildean wit, KG Cannon, has made this so clear… how our stories vary!!! How his stories varied!

John Fothergill/ 1930 Fox Photos

I am rather fond of John Fothergill (1876-1957) famous gentleman host at “The Spread Eagle” and known for the wonderful An Innkeeper's Diary. His recollection, “Absinthe and Oscar” —was written 50 years after Wilde’s death:

“At Berneval (where Wilde stayed after release from prison in 1897) Oscar Wilde told me - all in his great heavy drawl-of the three stages of Absinthe drinking. The first stage is like ordinary drinking, the second when you begin to see monstrous and cruel things, but if you can persevere you will enter in upon the third stage where you see things that you want to see, wonderful and curious things.”


Ada Leverson

Ada Leverson (1866-1930), a friend of Wilde’s whom he called the Sphinx and the wittiest woman in the world and who sheltered him after the terrible trial* wrote in “Letters to the Sphinx from Oscar Wilde and Reminiscences of the Author” in 1930 :

“After the first glass, you see things as you wish they were. After the second, you see things as they are not. Finally you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world.' `How do you mean?' `I mean disassociated. Take a top-hat! You think you see it as it really is. But you don't, because you associate it with other things and ideas. If you had never heard of one before, and suddenly saw it alone, you'd be frightened, or laugh. That is the effect absinthe has, and that is why it drives men mad.”

2013 update:

I finally made my own absinthe from scratch with mostly my own fresh herbs.  It is a marvel and incredibly green for a few weeks.

*I am forever grateful to Wikipedia, where facts often come from, if not always phrasing!

Anyone who would like to get a fuller understanding of all things Absinthe should stop by http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Absinthe or http://www.absinth.com/ or http://www.oxygenee.com/absinthe/ or http://www.wormwoodsociety.org/ or http://www.absinthedevil.com/category_s/5.htm for the full story and some really cool pictures. All I can do (and still hold down a job) is give you a taste of history and invite you along as I try these various products that I (as a food geek) have been dying to try and/or learn about… a foodie “Bucket List” or share favorites that I just can’t keep to myself.

AMBERGRIS: The Lost Chord Found

(Image: ambergris.co.nz)

It would be simple to tell you that Ambergris is a soft, gray, stone-like matter originating in the intestine of the Physeter catodon (sperm whale) that is used as an anchoring note in perfume. But that would be doing this magical substance such an injustice and there is so much more to tell. Thanks to the wonderful Ambergris Co., NZ I have gotten to know its alluring ways and can tell the tale.

Ambergris is a dusky jewel created in a whale’s stomach like an oyster creates a pearl by surrounding an irritant. It is formed around the sharp beaks of cuttlefish/squid (that are one of their favorite foods) and other sharp objects in the whale’s stomach to ease the passage out of the mighty beast. Being exponentially larger than an oyster, chunks of this miraculous substance have been found as large as 1400 pounds. What are most often found are lumps of 15g to 50 kg that are light and grayish in color. In fact, fresh Ambergris is rather revolting stuff. It is the gentle action of sea and salt and sun that metamorphoses ambergris into an exquisite perfume in a transformational ocean voyage that takes years.

Although it can be taken from a slaughtered whale and artificially aged, thankfully it is now nearly always harvested on beaches around the world by fortunate beachcombers who recognize the soft gray rocks. At nearly $10,000 a pound, it is a treasure indeed and terribly rare. Most of us know the scent of ambergris only through perfumer's chemical recreations.

Christmas 2009, Heston Blumenthal made a great deal of fuss about using authentic ambergris in his Christmas dinner for the BBC. He prepared it in a cucumber geleé with a caviar sorbet to great acclaim from those lucky enough to partake in the extraordinary meal.

What is it that makes Ambergris so special? As Elena at the brilliant blog Perfume Shrine says: “Natural ambergris has a wonderful tinge of saltiness, almost brine-y, encompassing elements of skin-like musky tones, and even a subtly sweetish accent. Its greatest attribute is its capacity for rendering a composition rounder, especially in oriental perfumes or in floral compositions where it melds the notes into one and brings out their best qualities. It clings on to fabric too, through repeated washings even, becoming ever sweeter with time. Therefore it is prized for its fixative power: the ability to anchor more volatile notes and make them last. “

What many people do not know is that Ambergris was not only used as a perfume but had a subtle role as an ingredient in food and drink for many centuries. No wonder, since ambergris makes everything it touches more of what it is... an amazing quality. One reads of its use in recipes of the Renaissance but it appeared more often in earlier books, under the influence of mediaeval Arab traditions (The Arabs regarded ambergris as an aphrodisiac and used it for this purpose). Its use survived in France into the 19th century as an additive for chocolate as a drink, witness a famous passage in Brillat-Savarin (1755-1826) hailing chocolat ambré as one of the most effective restoratives.

La Chocolatiere, Liotard 1744

"This is the appropriate place," says Brillat-Savarin, "to speak of the properties of chocolat ambré, chocolate with ambergris, properties which I have verified through many experiments, and the results of which I proudly present to my readers. Therefore, let every man who has drunk a few too many draughts from the cup of pleasure, every man who has spent a good portion of time working that ought to have been spent sleeping, every witty man who feels he has temporarily become dull, every man who finds the air close, the time long and the atmosphere oppressive, every man who finds himself tormented by an obsession that takes away his free thought, let all of them, we say, administer to themselves a good half litre of chocolat ambré, at the rate of 60 to 72 grains of amber per half kilogram(pound), and they will experience a marvel."

In The Physiology of Taste Brillat–Savarin also praises ambergris chocolate as the “chocolate of the afflicted.” “I knew that Marshal Richelieu, of glorious memory,” he writes, “constantly chewed ambergris lozenges; as for myself, when I get one of those days when the weight of age makes itself felt––a painful thought––or when one feels oppressed by an unknown force, I add a knob of ambergris the size of a bean, pounded with sugar, to a strong cup of chocolate, and I always find my condition improving marvelously.”

Chocolatiere, 1759

Worldwide Gourmet tells us "It was from Madame d'Arestrel, superior of the Convent of the Visitation in Belley, that Brillat-Savarin learned the art of making a good chocolate, a mixture of Caraque, Sainte-Madeleine and Berbice. " 'Monsieur,' Madame d'Arestrel said to me over 50 years ago, 'When you would like to have some good chocolate, have it made the night before in a faience coffee pot and leave it. Resting overnight will concentrate it and give it a velvetiness that makes it even better. The good Lord cannot object to this little refinement, since He Himself is all excellence.'"

18^th century Meisen chocolate pot

Antonin Carême, the famous cook to Talleyrand, Tzar Alexander and the Prince Regent of England, refined the recipe even further by adding cognac, honey, fresh cream and toasted almonds.

18^th c chocolate cups

Larousse Gastronomique laments “such chocolate no longer exists.” It's a pity that ambergris figures only as a memory in confectionery and perfumery today. Hunting some down for your own taste buds is well worth the effort, however. Whether added to coffee or chocolate, I can attest to its rewarding effects and its abiding aroma that mysteriously lingers through the day. Once savored, its bouquet is forever seared in one's memory."

Also from Brillat-Savarin via Worldwide Gourmet:“Happy chocolate, which after crossing the world, 
In women's smiles 
Finds death in a melting delicious kiss from their mouth."

Chocolate Ambre for 2

6 oz boiling water

1 oz shaved 100% chocolate

1 tsp sugar OR

1 tsp. mild honey (Champlain Valley Apiaries)

1 bean sized piece of Ambergris

Crush the Ambergris into sandy particles with the sugar (or in the honey) and put it and the boiling water into a large heat proof cup and stir until dissolved.

Next add the shaved chocolate and stir until dissolved.

Store the chocolate, covered at room temperature overnight. The chocolate will swell and the mixture will become velvety. At this point you can either use a Cappuccino steamer to froth and warm the chocolate or heat it gently and whisk into a froth ( a double boiler would do so that you could leave the chocolate in its cup). Take care when you pour the chocolate that you do not lose the grains of Ambergris. Another alternative to this is to heat the Ambergris in the bowl of 1 or 2 spoons over a low flame… this only takes seconds so take care! Then put the spoons into the hot chocolate and let sit with the chocolate overnight. Use the spoons to drink the chocolate licking the spoon decadently, the Ambergris becomes waxy and stubborn on the spoon… but the work is worth it… serve in small espresso cups.

Alternately, add a tablespoon of cognac and a dollop of cream for a stronger drink that could be served in a stemmed glass. Either way you will have an extraordinary treat.

***Lest you think this an extravagance, a few grams will more than suffice ( at $20 a gram) for a few servings of chocolate

Next, Ambergris and chocolate with jasmine… in the style of Cosimo de Medici III. Romance in a cup.

Syllabub: Irish Coffee's Great-Great- Grandfather!

Syllabub is the great-great-grandfather of Irish Coffee

As a contributor noted on the delightful “Diary of Samuel Pepys” (with daily entries from Pepys 17^th C diary and modern commentary) “Syllabub was a popular dessert in seventeenth, eighteenth and early nineteenth century England. It was popular for celebrations, special occasions and holidays due to its festive appearance. Many original recipes survive with various modes of preparation. Generally Syllabub was made with a mixture of whipped cream, whipped egg whites, white wine, sugar, lemon juice and zest of lemon. "

“The quantity of white wine used dramatically alters the finished dish, allowing the cook to produce either a creamy dessert or a thick, rich punch. Drinkers of the punch, easily identified by a milky white mustache, would be equally pleased if the white wine were replaced with cider, though they’d also be satisfied with a dash or two of sherry.

“In the seventeenth century, a milkmaid would send a stream of new, warm milk directly from a cow into a bowl of spiced cider or ale. A light curd would form on top with a lovely whey underneath. This, according to Elizabeth David, was the original syllabub. Today’s syllabub is more solid (its origins can also be traced to the seventeenth century, albeit to the upper classes) and mixes sherry and/or brandy, sugar, lemon, nutmeg, and double cream into a custard-like dessert or an eggnog-like beverage, depending upon the cook.”

Syllabub

1 Pint of Heavy Cream

½ c sugar, put in a coffee grinder and ground till powdery.

1/3 c New York Malmsey Madeira + 2 T

1 egg white, whipped (optional)

¾ c Riesling wine

Grated rind of a lemon ( you can add the juice of the lemon if you want it more lemony)

A few gratings of Nutmeg

Rosemary sprigs for decoration & 1 Tb of needles for steeping.

Pour the Riesling wine, bruised rosemary needles, 1/2 the lemon rind, 2 T Madeira and 2 T of sugar into a container shake and let steep for an hour, covered.

Whip the cream with all but 2 T of the sugar, ½ the lemon rind, nutmeg and the Madeira (add the egg white if you wish).

Stir ¼ c. of the cream mixture into the wine (remove the rosemary needles if you would like) and pour the wine into 4 glasses. Top with the cream and put a sprig of rosemary in the glass.

* May I advise, this is best the next day (which is how it was often done) if you leave the rosemary in, the herb flavors the magic wine at the bottom...use a spoon and dunk down... or be wild and get a syllabub moustache!

Syllabub/Jelly Glass 1780/ Marris Antique Glass

Syllabub (from Sir Kenelm Digby's The Closet of Sir Kenelm Digby Knight Opened)

My Lady Middlesex makes Syllabubs for little Glasses with spouts, thus. Take 3 pints of sweet Cream, one of quick white wine (or Rhenish), and a good wine glassful (better the 1/4 of a pint) of Sack: mingle with them about three quarters of a pound of fine Sugar in Powder. Beat all these together with a whisk, till all appeareth converted into froth. Then pour it into your little Syllabub-glasses, and let them stand all night. The next day the Curd will be thick and firm above, and the drink clear under it. I conceive it may do well, to put into each glass (when you pour the liquor into it) a sprig of Rosemary a little bruised, or a little Limon-peel, or some such thing to quicken the taste; or use Amber-sugar, or spirit of Cinnamon, or of Lignum-Cassiæ; or Nutmegs, or Mace, or Cloves, a very little.

From "The London Art Of Cookery and Domestic Housekeepers' Complete Assistant", 1811 by John Farley.

Syllabub/Jelly Glasses 1760- 1780 Marris Antique Glass

Whipt Syllabubs

Rub a lump of loaf sugar on the outside of a lemon, put it into a pint of thin cream, and sweeten it to the taste. Then put in the juice of a lemon, and a glass of Madeira wine or French brandy. Mill it to a froth with a chocolate mill, and take it off as it rises, and lay it into a hair sieve. Then fill one half of the glasses a little more than half full with white wine, and the other half of the glasses a little more than half full with red wine: lay on the froth as high as possible ; but take care that it is well drained on a sieve, otherwise it will mix with the wine, and the syllabub will be thereby spoiled.

The Aviatrix, Creme de Violette!

Palerme by Baccarat

I saw the drink “The Aviation” in a Michael Ruhlman blog awhile back.

Although I don’t countenance gin (my mother let me sip a martini when I was 7 and scarred me for life, blek--gin!), I was captivated by Crème de Violette.

Does it get any more romance-novel-L’heure-Bleue than Crème de Violette (ok, there’s that crazy teen box-office smash Twilight, but this is for grown-up girls)? IT IS REALLY VIOLET, Art Nouveau violet.

Made from the distilled essence of violets:

V

The provenance of the cocktail is fabulous. It was created by Hugo Ensslin at the Hotel Wallick in NYC, Ensslin published a recipe in 1916 in his book, Recipes for Mixed Drinks

1/3 Volume Lemon Juice

2/3 Volume El Bart Gin

2 dashes Maraschino liqueur

2 dashes Crème de Violette

Shake well in a mixing glass with cracked ice, strain and serve.

Ruhlman’s version was a little less tart:

2 oz. gin 


1/2 oz. lemon juice


1/2 oz. Luxardo Maraschino Liquer 


1/4 oz. Crème de Violette

As I mentioned, I don’t like gin, so, I created a new, very homage-to-Amelia-Earhart drink:

THE AVIATRIX

1 T Crème de Violette

1/2 Cup Champagne or Prosecco (good quality please, no $5 bottles for this)

Lemon twisted over the glass

splash maraschino (optional)

splash of gin (optional)

You can add a splash of the Maraschino liquor (I wrote about that HERE) but I found it too much. Some like the gin as an  edge for the sweetness... your call.You can squeeze lemon peel into the drink, or run it around the rim, or wrap it cunningly around a vintage sterling cocktail stick like this:

However you manage it, pull out a great champagne glass, light a fire or candles and let the light dance in the lavender bubbles. The result is magical. But beware, for all it's lavender allure it packs a wallop!