Some thoughts on Czech absinthe
“Czech absinth” has become a shorthand for inauthentic and inaccurately marketed absinthes not because of some bizarre anti-Czech racism as some blogs have postulated, but because most (not all, but most) Czech absinthes ARE inauthentic and dishonestly marketed. “Czech beer” by way of contrast is a byword for quality around the world - because Czech beers ARE wonderful.
Even having said this, one might legitimately say “why bother?” Each to his own. If you don’t like Czech-style absinth, don’t drink it. If you don’t like the advertising copy, don’t read it. Why does it matter to you?
Here’s why: because Czech-style absinthe producers (with a few honourable exceptions) don’t market their products on their own merits, but do so by trying to usurp the historical Franco-Swiss tradition.
This is what upsets French and Swiss producers - because only one of the parties can be right: if an artificially coloured, thuja oil boosted, low anise, bitter tasting product is an authentic inheritor of the vintage tradition, then the naturally coloured, low to medium thujone, high anise, only very mildly bitter product made by the Franco-Suisse producer can’t ALSO be authentic. One of these producers isn’t telling the truth. The Franco-Suisse side is able to back up its case with countless original documents, every major 19th century French distilling text, and the fact that all major brands of pre-ban vintage absinthe known in surviving bottles are - as far as can be judged by taste and aroma - made in precisely this Franco-Swiss style. The Czech-style side can produce no similar evidence, no examples of 19th century absinthe that taste anything like Bairnsfather Bitter or KOSG for example. Nor are there any surviving Franco-Swiss recipes for this style of absinthe.
A good example of what I mean can be seen in the website of the Century 100 absinthe prominently advertised on several of the pro-Czech websites. Their website claims: “Century is made in limited batches by a select group of skilled craftsmen, and each batch is created strictly in accordance with an original Belle Époque recipe; nothing is added, and nothing is taken out.” Additionally a picture of the Roret distillation guide is shown, with the text “Each bottle of Century is hand-crafted according to a traditional recipe. Century Absinthe contains 100mg of thujone, making it as strong as the mind-bending absinthes of the Belle Époque era.”
Well, almost all of this is, in my opinion, demonstrably untrue. An absinthe coloured according to the classical principles outlined in the Roret guide, simply won’t end up the dark green colour of the Century bottle. So Century is either coloured by an entirely non-standard herb (very unlikely), or it’s likely coloured with natural food dye. The website is careful to say: “No artificial dyes are used in the making of this translucent green liquor – Century is 100% natural and only herbs of exceptional quality are used.” Note that this doesn’t preclude the use of a NATURAL dye, only an artificial one. Further, no absinthe made according to the recipes in the Roret book will end up with a thujone level of consistently 100mg or higher. If Century does indeed contain that claimed level of thujone, it’s almost certainly achieved by adding thuja or cedarwood wood leaf oil, something never even contemplated by any Belle Epoque producer. Lastly, no vintage absinthe ever tested has assayed anywhere near 100mg/l of thujone, and it’s been fairly conclusively demonstrated that thujone in the 100mg/l range is not only not “mind bending”, but barely has any observable effect at all. So in short the claims made for Century’s fidelity to the Belle Epoque tradition don’t, as far as I can see, stand up to scrutiny, nor do the claims made by Century as to the nature of Belle Epoque absinthe.
The irony of this all is that the Czech spirit industry is inheritor of a long and proud tradition of making superb herbal bitters. I’m personally a great afficianado of these, and as a judge in the bitters category at the International Wine and Spirit Competion have helped award gold and silver medals to many Czech bitters. The question that baffles me, is why doesn’t the Czech absinthe industry co-opt THIS tradition - a genuine one,? Why attempt to piggyback on the Franco-Swiss absinthe tradiiton, an effort which is surely ultimately bound to fail? Why not call the product “Bohemian Absinth” and market it as a category all its own, a kind of wormwood bitters? Use the finest quality local herbs and huge amounts of locally grown wormwood (but no industrial additives like thuja oil). The bitters taste profile is hugely attractive to new consumers (witness the success of a drink like Jagermeister, which just on its own vastly outsells the entire absinthe category). In the modern world, outside countries like France that have a traditional taste for it, the flavour of anise is a positive liability. Most new consumers don’t like it, at least not at first. It seems to me that the Czech absinthe industry is squandering an historic opportunity to stake out their own ground with a flavour profile that’s in fact more generally appealing than the anise rich taste of traditionally made absinthe. There are many examples of this in other liquor categories - Irish (Jamesons) and Tennesse (Jack Daniels) whiskeys are both hugely successful in their own right, without for one second trying to co-opt the Scotch whisky tradition.
Surely this is the way forward for Czech absinthe?
nihasa said,
March 21, 2008 @ 5:00 am
How can you say that 100 mg/L of thujone will not show any effect? I’ve felt effects from bottles with less than 10 mg/L thujone.
Oxygenee said,
March 21, 2008 @ 7:48 pm
Mazeltov.
Eddie said,
July 13, 2008 @ 6:46 pm
nihasa,
I think you’re confusing “I felt something” with “I felt something that’s just gotta be the thujone”
Keep in mind that all the beliefs about Absinthe and the effects of its components were developed in a period when it was impossible or at least impossibly difficult to determine how much of something was in Absinthe or what that chemical might do.
Whatever you felt may have come from any number of sources, not the least of which is your own expectations.