Absinthe / The word “absinthe” strikes a visceral chord. It brings to mind a crazed Van Gogh seeing the world in yellow and cutting off his ear. It conjures up fear of others (or yourself) hallucinating from a meeting with the “green fairy.” Or it draws curiosity and appreciation for what might be a novel, and perhaps artistically inspiring, experience.

From the early part of the 20th century until the 1990s in Europe, and 2007 in the U.S., the green spirit was banned due to the belief that wormwood (or rather, the chemical thujone present in wormwood) was a psychotropic drug. Indeed, there are several accounts of those acting strangely after consuming considerable amounts of absinthe, but that may not be reason enough for the beverage to be vilified.

“It’s my understanding that anything in excess will cause you to hallucinate,” says Joey Gottesman, beverage manager at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel and author of educational brochures on absinthe. “French wine companies demonized absinthe when its sales began to eclipse the wine trade.”

The negative image of the anise-flavored liquid did not bode well with religious and conservative parties either, giving momentum to the anti-absinthe movement.

So for nearly a century, Americans smuggled bottles of absinthe back to the U.S. in their luggage after vacationing in absinthe-friendly countries like France, Germany and even some Canadian provinces. But without a standardized worldwide set of regulations on absinthe, it was hard to tell whether patrons were getting the authentic stuff or just a weak imitation. In absinthe’s absence, Pernod, one of the first absinthe producers, manufactured a version without wormwood that retained the anise flavor. Other anise-flavored spirits and liqueurs, such as sambuca and ouzo, also gained popularity during the absinthe ban. After absinthe’s legalization in the U.S. in 2007, it came back with a vengance.

“It seemed like every beverage publication splashed absinthe everywhere,” says thirtyninehotel cocktail connosieur Christian Self. “To go in biblical terms, it was the homecoming of the prodigal son. It came back to us.”

But despite the resurgence, there are still regulations in the production and marketing of the iconic drink. The Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau does not allow the word “absinthe” to stand alone on the labels of products sold in the U.S., so variations on the spelling, such as “absente,” are common. Labels with artwork or graphics that project “hallucinogenic, psychotropic, or mind-altering effects” are also prohibited. The presence of thujone, actually a convulsant rather than a hallucinogen, is also not to exceed 10 parts per one million–a ratio that doesn’t actually represent much of a difference from absinthe’s composition before the ban, says Art Koshi of the Liquor Collection at Ward Warehouse.

Now that absinthe has had a chance to legally soak into the collective American palate, how is it faring on our fair island? What are some of the best absinthe experiences you can get, either at home or about town?

If you’re looking to throw a home party or hog a whole bottle to yourself, be prepared to spend out about $75 to $100 for a bottle. Absinthe sales at the Liquor Collection tend to spike in October, given the spooky history of the spirit. The store carries a handful of brands, but Koshi chooses American-distilled St. George as his favorite. He also likes Le Tourment Verte, which has a strong mint taste. As for brands the store may carry soon, be on the look out for Delirium, Kübler and Manson, which has, of course, 66.6 percent alcohol. One can drink absinthe in the popular way, with a sugar cube and cold water slowly infused into the spirit through a slotted spoon.

“[The sugar] brings out the flavors of the anise and some of the other botanicals,” says Self. “It just makes it a lot more palatable.”

If cruising around town is your preferred mode of absinthe intake, stop into thirtyninehotel in Chinatown, where Self keeps Grand Absente and Pernod on his shelves. For the full experience, Self mixes the absinthe with “melted ice cubes, the coldest water possible,” which is one of the tricks to giving absinthe its famous cloudy appearance.

“Alone, this absinthe is 138 proof,” says Self. “We’re just trying to bring down the concentration so it’s not like drinking straight gasoline.”

Famous for his innovative concoctions, Self likes to modify drinks with absinthe for increased depth and complexity. One of his personal favorites is an old-fashioned cocktail called a “corpse reviver,” consisting of Lille Blanc, gin, Cointreau, fresh lemon and “literally a drop of absinthe.” The drink is “my main staple, my go-to,” he says.

In Waikiki, The Royal Hawaiian’s Mai Tai Bar is a quality absinthe experience. Gottesman carries Ricard. “The original,” he says. Gottesman may recommend one of the more traditional or popular ways of drinking absinthe for first-timers, but like Self, prefers to use the green liquid as “a secondary or third element that will give a flavor profile” in what he refers to as “nouveau cocktails.”

He makes a version of the sazerac, using bourbon instead of rye whiskey to create a Manhattan that is bruised, then strained into an absinthe-rinsed glass and punched up with bitters and a twist. Gottesman also enjoys creating absinthe mojitos. And who can mention the Royal Hawaiian Hotel without including its famous mai tais? The original Don the Beachcomber recipe contains Pernod, and Gotteman’s award-winning mai tai recipe–an off-shoot of the original–will soon grace the bar’s cocktail menu.

As interesting an experience one can have with absinthe, Koshi, Self and Gottesman all warn not to have too much, due to the high alcohol concentration. Enter the experience with an open mind, but as always, be responsible, lest you end up cutting off an ear. Or falling off your bike.

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