The Mystery of the Green Menace discusses absinthe, "celebrated as a muse and banned as a poison":
Raised in New Orleans, a city once dubbed the Absinthe Capital of the World, Breaux has long been fascinated with the drink. Absinthe is a 140-proof green liqueur made from herbs like fennel, anise, and the exceptionally bitter leaves of Artemisia absinthium. That last ingredient, also known as wormwood, gives the drink its name — and its sinister reputation. For a century, absinthe has been demonized and outlawed, based on the belief that it leads to absinthism — far worse than mere alcoholism. Drinking it supposedly causes epilepsy and "criminal dementia."
Breaux has made understanding the drink his life's work.
He has studied samples of old absinthe using gas chromatography-mass spectrometry:
He takes a bottle of the liqueur, inserts a syringe through the cork (absinthe oxidizes like wine once the bottle is open), and extracts a few milliliters. He transfers the sample into a vial, which is lifted by a robotic arm into the gas chromatography tower. There it is separated into its components. Then the mass spectrometer identifies them and measures their relative quantities.
One of the ingredients is thujone, a compound in wormwood that is toxic if it's ingested, capable of causing violent seizures and kidney failure. Breaux hands me a bottle of pure liquid thujone. "Take a whiff," he says with an evil grin. I recoil at the odor - it's like menthol laced with napalm. This is the noxious chemical compound responsible for absinthe's bad reputation. The question that's been debated for years is, Just how much thujone is there in absinthe?
Some absinthe history:
Absinthe was first distilled in 1792 in Switzerland, where it was marketed as a medicinal elixir, a cure for stomach ailments. High concentrations of chlorophyll gave it a rich olive color. In the 19th century, people began turning to the minty drink less for pains of the stomach than for pains of the soul. Absinthe came to be associated with artists and Moulin Rouge bohemians. Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Van Gogh, and Picasso were devotees. Toulouse-Lautrec carried some in a hollowed-out cane. Oscar Wilde wrote, "What difference is there between a glass of absinthe and a sunset?" Soon absinthe was the social lubricant of choice for a broad swath of Europeans - artists and otherwise. In 1874, the French sipped 700,000 liters of the stuff; by the turn of the century, consumption had shot up to 36 million liters, driven in part by a phylloxera infestation that had devastated the wine-grape harvest. [...] By the end of World War I, the "green menace" was made illegal everywhere in western Europe except Spain. No reputable distillery still made it.
Breaux dismisses most modern "absinthes" as "mouthwash and vodka in a bottle, with some aromatherapy oil." A real absinthe has "a honeyed texture, distinct herbal and floral notes, and a gentle roundness uncharacteristic of such a strong liquor."
How to prepare your absinthe:
Breaux begins to prepare it in the traditional French manner, a process as intricate as a tea ceremony. First he decants a couple of ounces into two widemouthed glasses specially made for the drink. A strong licorice aroma wafts across the table. Then he adds 5 or 6 ounces of ice-cold water, letting it trickle through a silver dripper into the glass. "Pour it slowly," he says. "That's the secret to making it taste good. If the water's too warm, it will taste like donkey piss."
In case you're wondering, absinthe is still illegal in the US — "but American connoisseurs are able to find it," according to Breaux.
Incidentally, a little green fairy had this story to share:
The lore is that people would make a sachet [of wormwood], put it in a pillow, and sleep on it to promote colorful dreaming. So of course I did this. Yeah, it worked, but the dreams started to get a little surreal — not belladonna talking-to-imaginary-people weird, but on that same path to grandma's house.
It's a shame all these little snippets never end up in medical journals.