Kübler is a traditional swiss absinthe that comes in a very untraditionally-sized 1L bottle. The swiss “blanche” style deviates from the more common verte style in two ways: 1. there is no additional infusion of herbs after the initial distillation and 2: it usually features a lower alcohol content. A lack of herbal infusion in the finishing stage doesn’t necessarily mean an absinthe blanche will be less complex than a verte, but in Kubler’s case, it tends that direction. However, we’ll see that that isn’t completely unwelcome.

Drip: Kübler louches quickly with a beautiful pearlescent blue-tinged colour that isn’t found in the verte styles. As an absinthe drip, Kubler is solidly two-note. There is a prevalent high note in the Star Anise area, with some fennel tones, and a low note squarely reminiscent of cocoa. In other words, there’s not much going on here except those two things and there’s far less herbaceous quality to it than just about any other absinthe on my shelf. Kübler recommends using a 5:1 water-to-absinthe ratio in a drip and I have to disagree. A 3:1 ratio is the highest you should reach for to get the intensity to make Kübler properly sing.

Frappe: I enjoy Kübler in a frappe as it is simple, laid-back, and friendly. Unlike absinthes that try to do too much, Kübler kicks back and asks only that you keep your feet off its furniture and the music turned to a nice playful jazz station. Again, it’s not the most complex absinthe by a damned sight but, sometimes, that’s a deficit – as we’ll see with St. George. Kübler is an absinthe I turn to in a frappe when I want to introduce someone else to absinthe and its general charms or I don’t feel like being challenged and want to enjoy the sparest of them all.

Kübler is a wonderful product with which to introduce yourself to absinthe’s core characteristics and work your way outwards to more challenging and complex products. And, at $50/L, it’s one of the best buys available on the store shelf. I also find Kübler my absinthe-of-choice when developing mixed drinks. It represents the base nature of absinthe very clearly and others might muddle the profiles of other ingredients in my experiments. Plus, if when my drink ends up sucking, I haven’t wasted $1-3 in the .5oz I’ve used. Kübler has been, and will remain, a staple on my shelf for its dependability, simplicity, and sheer enjoyability.

St. George was one of the first U.S. absinthes on the market and I’d been wanting to try it since its release. Thanks to a good samaritan who knew of this series, and happened to live in San Francisco, I received a bottle. An arresting bottle and label, a gorgeous olive-green hue, and an appreciation of Hangar One and, by proxy, St. George Spirits, I was anxious to open and get to know this distinctive green fellow. Distinctive turned out to be the operative word.

Drip: This is the first absinthe I’ve encountered where I would highly recommend using a 4:1 or 5:1 ratio in a drip. St. George absinthe presents an anise flavor in the front, subduing you with an, “Oh!, this is tasty,” lull of satisfaction, and everything that comes after is an assault of the senses and your better nature. From rosemary, to pepper, to camphor, St. George never settles and blends into anything coalescent…or completely pleasant in a Drip. There’s a lot going on, which I appreciate, but I prefer it have a central and consistent anchor around which everything else can orbit.

Frappe: St. George performs much better in a frappe but still suffers from the lack of focus and a general busyness that fatigues the palate. The half-teaspoon of anisette serves to balance the frappe out a bit and, seemingly, help the absinthe stretch-out and relax without being so earnest in delivering its multitudes of flavors. It almost reads as an attempt to do Absinthe PLUS! and it just falls short of something glorious. The finish is still long, but not as excruciatingly so as in the drip.

St. George famously slew the dragon and, in that vein, this absinthe is aptly-named. It is not for the weak, the timid, nor those for whom this would be their first absinthe. This is also the only absinthe I’ve seen, in my collection, to undergo the “feuille mort” transformation where it takes on the brownish hues of fallen leaves, likely indicating the quality and volume natural elements in the product, which should be applauded.

Obsello has only very recently come to the U.S. and was the first Spanish absinthe to visit our shores. Spanish absinthe originated after many distillers moved from France to Spain in the early 20th-century and is typically considered a sweeter form. The bottle is reminiscent of a champagne bottle and is mercifully free of anything mentioning artificial coloring, a common problem among many of these. It also comes with a harrying and large wax seal around the cap. Several crow-bars, near misses with knives, and chipped chisels later, I was ready to try it.

Drip: Obsello recommends a 3:1 ratio of water-to-absinthe. I don’t. Back this down to 1.5-2oz water to an ounce of absinthe to make it really sing and have the “oomph” it deserves. This has a very strong anise front that, thankfully, dissipates quickly. It settles quickly into a woodsy and wormwood bitterness and slight vanilla hints with a long long finish. There’s still a bit of heat throughout the ordeal.

Frappe: This is lovely in a frappe. The thinness it struggles with in the drip is completely gone and the concentration of the Obsello comes through in a fine way. The initial bite of anise in the drip is tamped-down but lingers longer and a new cocoa flavor comes along for the ride as it finishes. There’s less bitterness and, all in all, it makes for a more pleasant drink than the drip.

This is a very nice traditional absinthe that, if you can find it for around $60, I highly recommend. It pours a beautiful, and natural-looking, pale green color and louches quickly and in fantastic fashion. This isn’t the most deep or complex absinthe in the group, but it’s very respectable and you could do worse. Much worse.

Pernod, of course, is known as the “original” absinthe having started production in the late 1700s. It’s only recently reached Oklahoma and I was glad to add it to the mix. It pours a slightly yellowish-green, belying its FD&C Yellow No. 5 roots, but isn’t horribly artificial in its appearance, unlike some.

Drip: This takes longer to louche than the Obsello but, once it does, appears creamy and lush. Pernod stands up in a drip better than the Obsello and asserts itself nicely with a more dry and herbal profile. The anise flavors are present, but ultimately it rounds itself into more gentian/herbal tones with a lighter hint of wormwood than most. The anise is also more of the “star anise” quality than fennel which leads to a little less complexity than I’d like.

Frappe: Surprisingly, this dries out even further in a frappe. It made me realize that the sweetness I experienced in the Obsello may be mostly due to its creamier feel, as the Pernod runs quickly across the tongue. The Obsello’s frappe beats this hands down in terms of both pleasantness and richness.

Unfortunately, I would look to Pernod Absinthe for dry and minor complexity as an absinthe for use in mixed drinks rather than featuring it on its own. It’s not a depressingly horrid product but as I drank it in these two drinks and let it sit on the palate it devolved into a sort of chemical artificiality that was wholly unwelcome. On its own, it leaves something to be desired.

I’m going to save you $60. Right now. Call your dad. Don’t worry, he’ll take your call . Ask your dad for two things, his Aqua Velva (Old Spice will do in a pinch) and a bottle of cheap tequila. If he doesn’t have tequila then Everclear will do. Or, barring that, a gun.

Once acquired, set them side-by-side. Pour 1oz of your father’s aftershave of preference in a glass…down it. There, you’ve now tasted Le Tourment Vert at 1/30th the price. Your problem now? How to forget.

You have two options, down the tequila or Everclear in one great Herculean swig and hope that the resulting brain damage erases the memory of having tasted Le Tourment . Or, you can make damned sure you forget with a bullet. Whatever’s on the other side is preferable, I assure you.

Unnaturally blue, uninspiringly flaccid, astoundingly nasty, unfathomably thin, unsparingly acrid, and unrepentently synthetic it’s everything bad sex is, and more, and is probably the second-worst booze I’ve ever tasted. Thanks, Le Tourment, the torment is all mine. To add insult to injury? They’re fucking spammers. And I have something I’d like to say about that, meet me under the fold, please.

La Fee Parisienne is one of the two neon-green absinthes in this round-up that hearken to when not-so-savory producers were putting out product that seemed to exist for the sole purpose of contributing to absinthe’s illicit appeal and the ill-founded prospect of its hallucinogenic qualities. Fortunately, despite this artificial coloring, La Fee does much better than all that.

Drip: In an Absinthe Drip this comes across with much less anise than most and presents a lot of herbaceous qualities and, of the three, comes across more complex. This is certainly the most vegetal and “woodsy” of the three and is pleasantly sippable. It louches very nicely and at 136-proof has a very light body. With this one, I definitely think upping the ratio of water-to-absinthe couldn’t hurt.

Frappe: Somehow, in the frappe, the herbal qualities are amplified (the word “nettles” kept coming to mind) but are still not as complex or playful as the Lucid. In both, La Fee comes across as fairly dry but not so much that the sugar or anisette need to be bumped up in any way.

Ultimately, I have to recommend this as a sipping absinthe that performs best when left to its own devices. The bitterness of the wormwood comes through and, for mixing, makes it limited in its application. It’s a pleasant surprise in a drip and a bit of an underperformer in the frappe. The labeling is lovely but, at the end of the day, it is not the best bargain for its quality. It’s not abysmal, by any means, but it’s also not bowl-me-over-wonderful.

Apsinthion is one of those neon beasts that promotes itself as a high-thujone absinthe and seems to start at the point of wanting to attract exactly the wrong sort of drinker. It’s produced in Poland and there’s some dispute as to whether it’s actually distilled or an amalgamation of oils, neutral spirit, and other chemicals. Either way, I was curious how it would perform against the new vanguard of European absinthe products making their way into the U.S. market.

Drip: There is a lot of heat in a drip made with Apsinthion and it has a strong Good n’ Plenty character. This, essentially, is not a good thing. It’s mint-heavy, wormwood-weak, and overly-simple. It seems sugared and has an undefinable saccharin character that makes one want to move on, and quickly.

Frappe: In a frappe, the Apsinthion just makes you appreciate how much a quality absinthe brings tot he table. Apsinthion comes across as dry, unmelded, and with a certain uncomplicated toothpaste quality.

If you accidentally stumble on this product, skip it entirely. If you’re striving for a simple licorice flavor with little complexity, look for a pastis such as Pernod or Ricard and you’ll be much happier for it. If you’re looking for a simpler absinthe, well, you could still do better.

Lucid, as you probably know, was one of the first true absinthes to bring absinthe back-to-market in the U.S. in 2008. It’s eye-catching bottle (har har) has turned some off as it doesn’t speak to the quality of the product or its origins. However, Lucid is distilled in France and seemingly tries to capture the traditional style of an absinthe verte. How well it actually performs, though, is another matter.

Drip: The first thing I notice about Lucid is how easily it louches and the oils precipitate once water is added. It has a lovely milky, almost violet, color that is mesmerizing and a joy to watch. However, once hitting the palate it has a heavily-bodied coating effect that produces a sort of numbing quality. This leaves the impression that the only thing Lucid has to offer is a black licorice character that leaves you wanting more…of….something more.

Frappe: However, in a frappe, Lucid practically sings. It was nearly impossible for me to pick apart all of the flavors dancing around but nearly all of them were pleasant. Joana and I both described this as “playful” with thoughts of tinkling piano keys invading our thoughts. The flavors that came to bear had more ruddish complexity than what it presented in the Drip, a most welcome development.

I highly recommend this as an absinthe to be used for mixing. it relies heavily on an broad anise flavor but still has something to bring to the party with a nice balance of dry and sweet. However, at the price, Kubler may be a better option if you’re buying an absinthe almost strictly for mixing. However, you could do far worse either way, just ask the Poles.