A Splash of Incognito

As a gardener, reading that Chartuese is made of herbs and flowers, I felt compelled to present it here. I am jonesing for alcohol so if I can't join in drinking, reading about it is somewhat satisfying and I can plot out what my first drink will be when I recover from Lyme Disease. Found at NYT, written by Jonathan Miles.

WITH all the hubbub over absinthe, the resurgence of another centuries-old green spirit has gone relatively unnoticed. I’m talking about Chartreuse, a French liqueur made by Carthusian monks from an 18th-century recipe that is known only to three monks.
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It’s just far different from anything else,” Mr. Palumbo said. “It’s made from 130 herbs and flowers, and nobody knows what they are.”
Its sharp, assertive flavor is difficult to characterize without a torrent of descriptors, like trying to devise a one-line plot summary for a Georges Perec novel. Perhaps Anthony Blanche, the stuttering aesthete in Evelyn Waugh’s “Brideshead Revisited,” put it best: “It is like swallowing a sp-spectrum.”
Though often taken as a shot, the current revival of Chartreuse stems from its supporting role in cocktails.
“If you’re using it properly, it shouldn’t be instantly recognizable,” said Mr. Palumbo, whose signature drink, the Whiskey Kiss, combines green Chartreuse (there is also a milder yellow version) with rye whiskey, Benedictine, bitters and lemon juice. “It brings a certain pop to the flavors and rounds everything out.”
New York bartenders are marrying Chartreuse with just about everything: cachaça and fig syrup, in a drink created by the cocktail consultant Tim Cooper for a dinner sponsored by Cabana cachaça last month in Brooklyn; and with tequila and cilantro, in a drink called the Madero, which made its debut last week at the Blue Owl on Second Avenue.
But my favorite neo-revivalist Chartreuse drink is the Pearl of Puebla, created by Jim Meehan at PDT, in which yellow Chartreuse meets lime juice, oregano, hints of agave syrup and pastis, and Sombra, a mezcal that hit the market in December.
Made from hand-harvested agave hearts roasted over a mesquite fire, Sombra seems a fitting partner for Chartreuse, with its producers’ similar adherence to oldfangled tradition.
“Not to be cheesy,” Mr. Palumbo said, “but it’s like a window to the past.”