Explore with Revelry Tours
Absinthe was first distilled in the late 1700s, either by Dr. Pierre Ordinaire or two sisters named Henriod. We’re not sure which, but we know they were both making it around the same time.
Like many of our most beloved boozy delights, absinthe—our dear Green Fairy—didn’t start off as a party drink. Nope, she was first mixed up as a medical tincture. Imagine that: a doctor prescribing you a shot of absinthe.
She’s brewed from a blend of botanicals, all with supposed medicinal properties: green anise, fennel, and, of course, the notorious wormwood. These ingredients, along with a few other floral sidekicks, come together to create an herbaceous, slightly mischievous, and green-tinted elixir.
Now, the right way to serve absinthe? You’ll need a reservoir glass, a sugar cube, and a slow drip of water to awaken the Fairy. This ritual transforms the drink, giving it a milky, cloudy look—a phenomenon called louche. Skip the sugar and water, and she stays bitter and feisty, kind of like me before coffee. Fun fact: because you’re technically adding ingredients, this method makes absinthe one of the earliest cocktails ever.
Not feeling the strong anise flavor? Some folks mellow it out with lemon juice. Want to get fancy? Throw in an egg white, give it a shake, and voila—you’ve got what some call a Green Fairy Cocktail. But let’s not get distracted just yet; our girl has a wild history to unravel.
Lorem ipsum is simply dummy text of the printing typesetting industry. Lorem Ipsum been industry's standard dummy text.
In 1798, an enterprising fellow named Henri-Louis Pernod got his hands on the absinthe recipe. If Pernod rings a bell, that’s because his distillery is still churning out the good stuff today. But absinthe didn’t immediately take France by storm. It needed a few historical twists and turns to become the drink of choice for poets, painters, and partygoers.
Picture this: It’s 1830, and France and Algeria aren’t exactly on good terms. Algeria was harboring pirates (yes, actual pirates), and France wasn’t thrilled about it. France also owed Algeria money—so naturally, they decided to invade instead of paying up. Classic.
But war isn’t all gunpowder and glory; you need healthy soldiers. That’s where absinthe came in. The high-proof elixir was handed out to French troops to prevent malaria and—thanks to its alcohol content (sometimes hitting 74%!)—as a makeshift disinfectant. Surgery back then was more of a "here’s a drink, bite this stick" kind of situation, so absinthe came in handy.
Soldiers got hooked, and when they returned home, they wanted more. Soon, absinthe was flowing in Parisian bars, gaining traction as France’s new favorite nightcap.
Now, France has always been wine country. But in the 1860s, a microscopic invader changed everything. Enter grape phylloxera, a tiny aphid that hopped across the Atlantic from America and proceeded to destroy nearly half of France’s vineyards. The result? The Great French Wine Blight—a crisis that left wine drinkers scrambling for alternatives.
With wine scarce and expensive, absinthe took center stage. It was local, it was cheap, and it had just the right amount of kick. By the late 1800s, the Green Fairy was soaring. Between 5 and 6 PM, bars were packed with people indulging in l’heure verte—"the green hour." Even after the wine industry bounced back, absinthe had cemented itself as a staple of French drinking culture.
Oscar Wilde sipped it. Vincent van Gogh painted under its influence. Edgar Allan Poe probably saw a ghost or two after a few glasses. The Green Fairy was everywhere.
Success, of course, breeds haters. And the temperance movement hated absinthe.
It all started with a dubious 1864 experiment by French psychiatrist Valentin Magnan. He exposed one guinea pig to alcohol vapor (no problem) and another to wormwood vapor (seizures and convulsions). His conclusion? Wormwood was dangerous and made people go insane.
Thus, the legend of "absinthe madness" was born. People blamed the drink for hallucinations, criminal behavior, and even murder. The real culprit? Most likely the fact that absinthe was often stronger than other alcohol, meaning people got very drunk, very fast.
To be fair, wormwood does contain a chemical called thujone, which, in extremely high doses, can cause convulsions. But here’s the kicker: you’d have to drink yourself to death with absinthe long before thujone had any effect. Modern absinthe contains so little thujone that it’s officially labeled "thujone-free."
Still, thanks to moral panic and one very unfortunate guinea pig, absinthe was banned across Europe and the U.S. between 1905 and 1915. The Green Fairy was exiled.
Luckily, good spirits never stay buried forever. By the 21st century, scientists and drinkers alike realized the fears were overblown. Countries began lifting the bans, and absinthe was legally revived.
Today, she’s back, ready to be sipped in dimly lit bars and whispered about in hushed, boozy tones. Just remember: if you invite the Green Fairy over for a drink, treat her right—she’s stronger than she looks.
Ingredients:
1 ounce of Absinthe
1 ounce of water
Freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 dash of Angostura bitters
2 tablespoons of egg whites
Preparation: Add all ingredients into shaker with ice and shake vigorously. Serve in a coupe glass and garnish with a lemon twist.
Here’s a question for you: if you follow the recipe for making absinthe but label it something else, is it still absinthe?
The answer, of course, is yes. It’s still very much absinthe.
Is it, though? Most countries don’t have a legal definition of what absinthe is, making a ban on absinthe almost impossible to enforce.
In 1934, for instance, the Sazerac company bottled and sold Herbsaint. It’s an almost perfect anagram of absinthe, just with an additional r
.
The added r
likely stands for
regulate this, I dare you.
Sazerac wasn’t the only company that did it, but Herbsaint is one of the best-known absinthe substitutes. They still make it today, even though absinthe is legal again.
Oh yeah, that happened!
In 2007, the U.S. government lifted the ban on absinthe. We’d done enough research to know the Green Fairy just wasn’t the monster she was made out to be.
France followed in 2011. A slew of countries that had previously banned absinthe joined in around the same time.
Our dear friend, the Green Fairy, is free once more to inspire the masses. I encourage you to try some yourself, but do it the right way - dripping water through a sugar cube into it.