Clouded Judgment
I really do think that Anonymous and I could work this whole thing out over drinks. And I will respond to the latest comment, but for right now it is time to move on.
Speaking of drinks, you may have noticed that I’ve been a bit obsessed lately. The last two cocktail posts have been about absinthe. And someone suggested that if I had a thing for green herbal spirits, then perhaps I would like Chartreuse.
Well, I love Chartreuse. And there is a bottle of the stuff in my small but proud liquor cabinet.
But absinthe’s greenness and its herbaciousness are only part of the appeal. The truth is that I love to louche. And nobody else really gets it. My sister was out in Albany for a visit, and I sat down with her and showed her the beautiful swirling tendrils in the bottom of the glass of absinthe. I did a similar thing with ADS when I was visiting him in D.C. and demonstrated the primal beauty of the undulating fog bank that pulsed and grew with every drop of cold water.
Nothing.
So obviously, my next question was, can I louche Chartreuse? And are there other spirits that can do this? Because even though Chartreuse isn’t inexpensive, it’s still cheaper than absinthe.
By the way, if you are looking for less expensive absinthes, I have no real recommendations. But there is a great review site for these spirits, and this Spanish model seems to be at a pretty good intersection of price and value. If you try it, please let me know.
Anyhow, I grabbed two glasses, a measuring cup full of ice water, a tablespoon, my bottle of Chartreuse and a bottle of Cointreau. I remember from my earlier post on the liqueur that it does get cloudy when mixed with cold water. Would this scratch my itch?
Both spirits released beautiful stately trails when drops of cold water were introduced to the glass. But only the Cointreau ever developed a true cloud. Oddly, instead of forming on the bottom of the glass like absinthe, this cloud started forming just underneath the surface of the spirit. It was beautiful to watch, but not really quite satisfying, since the drink never really turned opaque.
However, unlike absinthe, where mixing the spirit with water releases the components that make it truly special, these two magnificent drinks just got wet.
At least now we know either:
a) Chartreuse does not louche, or
b) Daniel can’t coax a louche to save his life
Regardless, it just makes the absinthe experience that much more unique. You know, for those who are crazy enough to appreciate it.
FUSSYlittleBLOG 
Anthony Bourdain describes the Absinthe ritual as similar to that done by heroin users, i.e. the ritual is foreplay and part of the enjoyment of the drug.
Where does one buy Chartreuse?
Oh man, I had quite the experience with Chartreuse in Australia. I’ve always heard that Absinthe could make you hallucinate but I never had that experience with it. Chartreuse on the other hand had me having full on conversations with people that were not there as vivid as anything in front of you right now.
Leah, I love Bourdain’s heroin/foreplay analogy! And C, your experience with Chartreuse reminds me of an experience with a type of fungi that I don’t expect Daniel to write about on this blog.
I’ve never tried real absinthe or Chartreuse, but I’ve had pastis. It was in France, in the late 1980s. I’m not sure if it’s sold in the U.S.; I’ve never seen it in a liquor store here (but then again, I haven’t looked for it). I haven’t had it since.
I was told pastis was developed as a less-potent replacement for absinthe, when the sale and/or consumption of absinthe was illegal. It’s not green like absinthe, it’s yellowy-clear. But when you mix it in a tall glass with water, it does the same louching bit, turning milky and opaque.
I remember being shown this ritual process slowly and deliberately, and I was fascinated at the unexpected result. Although it’s not as strong as absinthe, pastis still packs a punch! And it was very refreshing on a blisteringly hot day in southern France, at a late afternoon celebration after the village pétanque tournament.