Green Chartreuse vs. St Germain

 

"Hey?" You ask. "I have been closely following clerkmanifesto's journey to France. And I've put up with stories about Japan. I've endured complicated, deceptive, and curious photography. I've worked my way through exhausting tales of urban design, making a life in another country, and endless discussions of cheese and baguettes. And I have done this because I felt at some point, eventually, you surely must discuss the liqueur situation!"

"It has been excruciating!" You exclaim. "But surely my pet subject will arrive. Won't it?" You ask in agony and desperation.

Yes.

It has arrived.

Today we will discuss the two giants of French Liqueurs: Green Chartreuse and St Germain.

There are other French Liqueurs. And if you continue to look at my new paintings, read about my hate of the medieval village of Eze and how it's emblematic of everything wrong with modern France, endure the opening of gelato season here, and suffer the agonies of reading about why the stroad running along the Promenade Des Anglais is an actual affront to God, I will eventually get to more stories of French Liqueurs.

I am thinking of going all in on the French Liqueurs.

And the astonishing two navigational directions of French Liqueurs are Green Chartreuse and St Germain.

I adore Green Chartreuse. It is an elixir, a toxic confection of life, a mystery made by monks for three hundred years. From a secret recipe, using hundreds of herbs, they have created the masterpiece of liqueuers.

Do you know what Green Chartreuse tastes like? It's lingering at the edge of my throat now. But I can no more tell you the taste than you could describe the secret fourth primary color. 

So I hope you've tried it. 

It's very strong. Take a small sip.

Several years ago the monks who make Green Chartreuse announced that they were going to kind of chill out on the chartreuse. They didn't want to make more and more chartreuse and be a chartreuse global powerhouse. They wanted to be monks who made some chartreuse on the side.

Good for them.

I guess. What do I know?

But that was around the time where one stopped being able to pop into a liquor store and buy a bottle of Green Chartreuse for $55. It just wasn't available anymore.

And then we moved to France. And suddenly, many places had it for sale! That makes sense. It's French. We're in France. This is the kind of sensibility I enjoy! It still has an appealingly uneven distribution and the price varies from maybe 55 euros, if you are very lucky, clear up to 85 euros and more.

I have a bottle.

It tastes worth it.

Come on by.

On the other hand we have St Germain. This is a gorgeous liqueur. It tastes of elderflowers picked in the mountains. It is simpler and lighter and very beautiful. It comes in a graceful, heavy art nouveau bottle. It looks like a classic drink that must have been around for a hundred years, but it is astonishingly less that twenty years old! It's impact was so great on the nascent world cocktail culture reemergence that it became known as "Bartenders' Ketchup" because it is so handy and good and goes so well with so many kinds of mixed drinks. Though I love the Aperol Spritz, a classic, the best spritz to me is the Hugo Spritz, made with St Germain, Prosecco, sparkling water, and mint, if you've got it. Sadly, St Germain was sold to an evil greedy giant Liquor corporation who ran the price up as much as they could and positioned it as a "Global Luxury" brand.

When I came here to France I thought excitedly: "Oh, how exciting! I'll be able to get nice cheap St Germain." Ha. Ha!!! When I saw that somehow it cost as much a 40 euros a bottle I researched the situation and learned all of this.

And I tried to hate St Germain.

Alas, I failed.

The two key liqueurs of France, one pure and noble, magnificent and spiritual. One corrupted and...

delicious.

And there you are.