(The Green Fairy- in fin de ciecle France, the five pm call to cocktails was called “The Green Hour.”)
It was a fine, fine summer day that had just about everything in it- a high-tech demonstration of a internet search engine that seems to have the potential to change the whole nature of serious analysis for Law Enforcement and Intelligence, a most triumphant swim in refreshing waters, and a visit from the Green Fairy.
The last time I had an encounter with her was courtesy of the Chaldeans at the Liquor Store in Ann Arbor, Michigan. That was legendary enough that opposing counsel apparently included it in some scurrilous material impugning my professional reputation.
Completely baseless, of course. As I recall, the Iraqi clerk had proudly boasted that his brand- “Lucid was it’s name, I think- contained the magical ingredient of wormwood, the substance that was said to drive one mad.
“This is real thing, my friend,” he said gesturing at the pyramid of little bottles. “Distilled and macerated whole herbs and botanicals in alcohol and water. It contains grand wormwood, anise, fennel, other whole herbs and botanicals. Pour over a sugar cube. Do not mind the cloudy appearance when you make your cocktail, like a Baghdad sky in spring. Is like jellybean taste from the anise. Is very good. You like.”
I drank it with a friend, since I couldn’t take it on the jet coming back, and was impressed. I had not thought much about it until I noticed the color of Heather’s blouse at Willow yesterday. I was sitting on my usual stool next to Old Jim. The Missile Twins- Steve and Ronnie- were enjoying their weekly outing to my left. Steve was happy that his old missile silo near Wall Drug in South Dakota had been turned over to the National Park Service, and tourists can go down and see where he used to wait to obliterate civilization. “They didn’t even give us a medal when it was over. Cheapskates.”
“The Clinton Administration gave us a certificate of participation in the Cold War,” I said. “Almost the same thing as a parade. I think they didn’t want to hurt the Russian’s feelings.”
Heather greeted me with a little waving of her fingers next to her eyes. With the brilliant emerald of the blouse and her long blonde locks cascading down over her shoulders, she could have been a buxom pixy.
“Green Fairy time,” she announced. “I got a bottle of Absinthe for the bar. I do the ordering now, and what the hell. I felt like having a Sazerac, the official cocktail of New Orleans.”
I was embarrassed that I had no idea what she was talking about. Jim saw the blank look and explained from his years working behind the bar rather than in front of it. “It’s a Cajun version of a cognac or whiskey cocktail. Take two jiggers of rye whiskey, a half a jigger of absinthe, a sugar cube and a lemon peel and serve up in an Old Fashioned glass with two dashes of Peychaud Bitttrers. Not Angostura. The original was made with a cognac called Sazerac de Forge et Fils. Some scholars claim it is America’s oldest cocktail.”
“Never heard of it,” I said. “Isn’t that sort of a winter drink?”
“Depends on what sort of summer day you had,” said Heather. “And I think I will have one.” Brett the bartender looked over at Heather and he asked if she was serious. She said she was and we all did the pixy thing with our fingers. Summertime. He and Jasper huddled at the far end of the bar, and I saw bottles moving in the dim light and the flare of a match. He returned with a small snifter a quarter filled with blonde liquor and a singed yellow peel floating it in.
He slid the bottle of absinthe on the bar so we could see it. I took a picture to document the brand.
(Prior to 2009, Absente sold in the U.S. contained no grande wormwood- Artemisia absinthium- a substance that had been banned in the early 20th Century due to its reported hallucinogenic effect. Following the re-legalization of genuine absinthe in the U.S. in 2007, the importer introduced a reformulated version that includes wormwood in an apparent effort to improve its consumer appeal. The new label proclaims, “Now With Wormwood!”)
Brett the bartender nodded with approval.
Heather said she didn’t get the expensive stuff- of the two brands offered by the distributor, this was only $50 a bottle. We had been talking about some trash literature as the Missile Twins ordered some food. I might like to play as a book tape while I treaded water in the pool. His recommendation is a book called “Florida Roadkill,” by Tim Dorsey. “It is like those Carl Hiaasan thrillers only crazier.”
“That would be pretty nuts,” I said. “There appears to be a lot of stuff I am not aware of these days. I’ll give Dorsey a try. It gets awful boring in the pool after an hour of treading water.”
“You ought to try it with wormwood, ” growled Jim.
“You know what? I just might. But honestly, the Vodka seems to work just fine.”
Copyright 2015 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303