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Absinthesalon

Jordan Baker

French

Absinth makes me think of French artists hallucinating about green fairies in lofts. It also reminds me of a party I went to once that involved flaming green shots and a fire extinguisher.

Sydneysiders can now imbibe the drink in relative safety at the city's first absinth salon, which sells 20 different types of the potent liquor and no other type of alcohol. It has restricted import licences and lab reports proving everything has less than 10 milligrams of the so-called mind-illuminating ingredient, thujone, found in wormwood. Because of the extremely high alcohol content, guests are allowed no more than three glasses each.

ARRIVING ON A FRIDAY evening, we have no idea what to expect. The vague memory that absinth is very intoxicating and a bit hallucinogenic makes our outing feel illicit. The salon is set in an unassuming corner terrace at the seedier end of Albion Street, towards Central Station, and is easily missed. Were it not for the keen eye of my companion – let's call her the Green Fairy – I may have spent all night wandering the dark streets of Surry Hills. We walk through a gift shop in the front room to a little slice of Paris, with black-and-white chairs that could be plucked from the Champs-Elysees.

ON EVERY TABLE is a little water fountain with four delicate spouts, each with its own tap. The waiter explains the process: a dose of absinth is poured into the glass and a spoon with a sugar cube placed on top. The water drips until the cube is dissolved and the spirit becomes milky. There are two types of absinth: green or clear. I choose the green Obsello ($15) and my friend selects the clear Lemercier ($12). We also order sweets. Five petit fours are $15 but we only want a taste, so the waiter obliges with two tarts – one lemon meringue, one chocolate passionfruit – for $6.

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"WILL THE LIQUEUR make us hallucinate?" we ask, a little hopefully. No, the waiter explains, there will be no fairies flying around the room. But we may become a little "lucid".

GREEN FAIRY DOES NOT LIKE the aniseed flavour and screws up her nose at each sip. I, however, am quite partial. The drip on my sugar cube is more like a torrent, so my shot is twice as diluted and much easier to drink. By the time she's sipped a quarter, I have downed a glass. I offer to help her out. By this time, I am quite lucid indeed. Not drunk, mind you – just sparkly. GF is quite chuffed by my delighted giggling at her jokes. Everything seems prettier and sweeter. Albion Street could be, if not quite the Champs-Elysees, then at least a little laneway in Montmartre.

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