Absinthe influenced the culture of whole nations – until it was banned. Now Esher resident Ian Hutton is leading the revival of la fée verte. Catherine Whyte joins him for a glass
There can’t be a drink more eulogised than absinthe. Toulouse Lautrec loved it. So did Charles Baudelaire. Oscar Wilde was a huge fan: “a glass of absinthe is as poetical as anything in the world, what difference is there between a glass of absinthe and a sunset.”
La fée verte – (or green fairy as the drink was affectionately known) was a potent muse for prominent members of France’s artistic and literary scenes in the 19th century. However, absinthe also became a byword for all that was evil about alcohol: people who drank it suffered from louche morals, their brains eroded and muddled by hallucinations, and who – at worse – fell victim to murderous insanity. In fact, so many myths about absinthe have permeated through the grand vat of time that it’s hard to separate fact from fiction.
Ian, as well as importing around 30 brands, also distills his own Enigma absinthe made to an old recipe, and using the original stills in the northeast of France.
We meet at his home. It’s such a lovely, sunny day that we agree to sit out in the garden. As I pass through the dining room, I notice a drinks cabinet full of antique absinthe miscellany; spoons, glasses and some wonderful Art Nouveau fountains.
“I first became hooked at the age of 16,” explains Ian. “You get to a period of art history that’s very centred on absinthe. I heard all the stories about how it sent people mad and how it was banned. Fast forward 30 years or so, and I began to collect various bits of absinthe paraphernalia that I had found in antiques markets.”
It didn’t take long for Ian (whose background is in scientific publishing) to make the leap into producing his own. I’ve heard the stories, and seen the paintings but what actually is absinthe?
So what was all the fuss about, then? I wonder.
“By the mid-19 century, absinthe was the favourite tipple of the bourgeoisie,” explains Ian. “Vines had been hit by disease. It decimated the wine industry and made wine prohibitively expensive. Absinthe filled the gap.
“It was, however, a victim of its own success,” he continues. “It was expensive to produce but easy to counterfeit by taking cheap alcohol, green dye, and adding harmful chemicals like antimony salts.”
Eventually, something had to give. The ill-effects of these cheap imitations, combined with the lobbying might of the recovered wine industry, together with a strong prohibition movement forced the government’s hand and the lid was shut tight on absinthe production.“It got wrapped up in history,” says Ian, sadly. “and myth took over from reality.”
All that is about to change however.
“As well as getting people to experience true absinthe, it’s also vital to dispel myths,” Ian acknowledges. “A lot of people are still scared.” “Ten years ago, absinthe was sold on the basis that it was a hallucinogenic,” he says refering to the wave of imitation absinthe (or “coloured vodka” as Ian calls it), which flooded in from the Czech Republic along with the gimmicky practice of setting it alight – something that was never done in the past.
“Now, however, it is being talked about in the same way as malt whisky, with its different styles and regions,” he says. “Any absinthes around today need to sell themselves on basis of authenticity.”
Bars interested in retro cocktails such as Nightjar in Shoreditch, have nurtured fresh interest. Ian’s Enigma brand has also made in-roads into the gilded world of fashion, notably at a prefashion week preview for designers hosted by ON|OFF and Tuuli at the Rankin studio, attended by the likes of singer La Roux and model Erin O’Connor.“I genuinely enjoyed watching people go through the “I don’t like absinthe” to really enjoying it,” says Ian.
Speaking of which, isn’t it time to try some, I say. So, Ian brings out one of those elegant Art Nouveau fountains I saw earlier, along with a spoon and a couple of tall glasses.
Ian pours the absinthe in, rests the spoon on top of the glass with a cube of sugar, and then places the glass under one of the taps. The water drips in slowly, dissolving the sugar as it goes. There‘s a wonderful sense of ritual to it. I can imagine producing one at a dinner party. Or even at a wedding.
As I’m driving, I have to moderate myself but enjoy the few tentative sips I do have. Aniseed is an acquired taste – one embraced by most of the continent but not, largely, by the northern Europeans. As such, even Ian admits that it is, and will likely remain, a niche product.
Given I can only have a couple of sips I wonder what it would be like to spend a night in the company of la fée verte.
“It does makes you very chatty,“says Ian with a smile. “You have the stimulating effects of essential oils from all these medicinal plants, combined with the depressant effects of the alcohol; It’s very complex chemical combination.
“While no-one is claiming that you’ll see green fairies coming out of the glass, there is a clarity of mind, and a greater sociability,” he continues. “In my opinion, absinthe is just a lovely aniseed flavour drink that contains wormwood.
“Just don’t buy it if you expect a trip on it.”
• absintheonline.com• liquersdefrance.co.uk
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