Pastis, an emblematic aperitif of France is making a comeback
It’s like a magic trick. When the first drop of ice water hits the pastis, the transparent alcohol turns an opaque pale yellow and a heady plume of aniseed aroma rises from the glass.
An old Provencal word for mixture, pastis draws its liquorice flavors from the arid Mediterranean landscape and its melting pot of cultures. Aniseed drinks are found throughout the region: in Greece, they are called ouzo. Italy has sambuca. In Turkey, it is raki. All are usually knocked down like a blow after a meal.
However, the ritual associated with pastis makes it stand out. This gentle spirit simultaneously awakens your senses and relaxes your mind. It is an aperitif to sip after spending languid summer afternoons in villages with golden stones or on the beach.
Traditionally, the aperitif is associated with sleepy French village squares and bars selling only one or two brands: Ricard or Pernod. But thanks to an emerging movement spurred by artisanal distillers, drinkers are discovering a new wave of pastis made from a wide range of plants that add more flavor.
The rise of Ricard
The origin of the popularity of pastis lies in another libation made from anise: absinthe. In the 1860s, French vineyards were ravaged by the phylloxera virus. With the wine trade in jeopardy, people have turned to the “green fairy” instead. Because wormwood is so much stronger than wine or beer, which has led to an increase in alcoholism and wickedness, the drink has been banned in most countries of the world. But the masses had already developed a taste for anise-based spirits.
(Find out how absinthe returned to its home country after a century-long ban.)
The main producer of absinthe, Pernod Fils, turned to the distillation of anise to create a liqueur in Pontarlier, in eastern France, and later in Avignon. Meanwhile, in Provence, the rustic way to create a similar drink, pastis, was to steep herbs in alcohol. Pastis had been around for a long time; it simply never had a brand or a champion, until Paul Ricard.
“My grandfather was the son of wine merchants,” says François-Xavier, grandson of Ricard. “He wanted to be an artist, but his dad insisted he join the family business, so he learned all the different roles and really got to know the culture.”
After being introduced to pastis by a local shepherd, Ricard began to experiment with his own concoction. “He took his versions to bars, and they told him if it was too strong, too sweet,” says François-Xavier. “When the ban on anise-based drinks was lifted in 1932 [absinthe would remain illegal in France for 80 more years], he had perfected his pastis blend, and the market was ready.
“Another ban came during WWII, but when it was lifted, Pernod launched its own, Pastis 51. The two brands became rivals until 1975 when the companies merged and became Pernod Ricard.
From there, the drink boomed, and the resulting wealth allowed Ricard to buy two islands about 35 miles south of Marseille: the island of Bendor and the neighboring island of Embiez, where , in 1966, he created the Observatory of the Sea (today called the Paul Ricard Oceanographic Institute). Bendor is also home to a gallery of Ricard artwork, mainly portraits of family members, and a wine and spirits museum. The latter houses a breathtaking collection of more than 8,000 bottles, including the cognac offered to Napoleon Bonaparte in 1811.
But long before Paul Ricard marketed pastis, the herbs that grow on the rocky terrain known as scrubland in the hills above Marseille were mixed for medicinal purposes. From the 11th century, the village of Forcalquier, at the foot of the Montagne de Lure, was renowned for healing the sick, and for centuries the region was known for its pharmacists and apothecaries. In the 19th century, it housed dozens of absinthe distilleries.
(Find out how ancient remedies are changing modern medicine.)
One of the few to survive to this day is Distilleries et Domaines de Provence, which creates the region’s most popular artisanal pastis brand, Henri Bardouin. Its blend includes more than 65 herbs and spices, macerated or distilled.
“Bardouin liked to concoct different liqueurs from the herbs of the Montagne de Lure”, explains Alain Robert, who took over the reins of the distillery in 1974. The spices used here have come a long way: licorice from Turkey, cardamom from the countries of France. Indian Ocean, tonka beans from Guyana.
The resulting mixture has a rounded and complex flavor. The anise is strong but balanced by other herbs and spices. Robert says that, like wine, Henri Bardouin can accompany any meal. “It brings out the flavors of the region,” says Robert.
A new generation
Of course, pastis is not only an accompaniment to Provençal dishes, many local chefs also cook with it. Among them, chef René Bergès, whose family restaurant La Table de Beaurecueil is located in Beaurecueil, a village at the foot of the Sainte-Victoire mountain. The mountain is said to have inspired artists such as Cézanne, Picasso and Kandinsky.
Dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and tartan-rimmed sunglasses, Bergès says his cuisine is influenced by his surroundings. “I have always liked to make connections between the products of the region, whether it is lavender with fish, or thyme or rosemary in a soufflé,” he says.
Around a dish of fennel and red mullet with a pastis-infused sauce, Bergès then explains the trick of cooking with pastis. “You can’t let it dominate, so you use it lightly,” he says. “And flambé with pastis is heresy!” Restaurants do it for the show, but it burns the flavor. As for pastis agreements? “The best is the fish. It’s good with bouillabaisse. When you add pastis at the end, it enhances all the flavors, ”he says. “It also works with desserts, in frozen soufflés or with apricots. “
In the neighboring town of Aix-en-Provence, David Gabrielian, owner of La Pastisserie, strives to represent lesser-known brands of pastis. In his small shop, he stocks pastis from all over France and creates his own blends. The star of the show is Lis Estrella (for “to show the stars” in Provencal), which has sweet notes of caramel alongside anise. “I want to help people discover pastis beyond commercial brands,” he says. “Most people start by saying that they don’t like it because they are used to big brands, but then they try Pastis Henri Bardouin, they like it, and it arouses their curiosity. Often they leave here with three or four different bottles.
Inside the store, a constant stream of customers come and go, many of them couples, many under the age of 30. which often hosts discovery evenings of pastis.
On its shelves, a pastis from the Distillerie de la Plaine, a very small distillery in the alleys of Marseille directed by Guillaume Strebler. At the back of the Strebler store, behind a curtain, a string of dry verbena leaves across the doorway. Red stills flow pastis.
“I just wanted to do something else,” says Strebler, whose previous career was in the construction industry. “I was thinking about making a whiskey, but it takes several years, so I started making pastis first and it worked so well that I didn’t have time to make whiskey. “
(The next big whiskey trail ain’t where you think it is.)
Strebler produces two different versions of pastis, the first is a standard blend but the other is more of a start. “It’s more herbal and floral,” he says. “There is always anise, fennel and licorice, but I also use verbena and yerba mate, [a drink] similar to tea or coffee. The result is delicious, an almost chocolatey creamy drink with verbena bringing a sweet note of spearmint. “It’s to be enjoyed, with just an ice cube. People who don’t like pastis in general, like that, ”he explains.
But there is one more to try: a pastis specially designed as a digestive rather than an aperitif. It is produced by Guillaume Ferroni, the mastermind of Maison Ferroni, a distillery of the Château des Creissauds in Aubagne, near Marseille. Among a wide range of spirits made there, his sublime version of pastis ages for two years before releasing as “vintage”.
In the cool stone vaulted cellar of his distillery, Ferroni hands the tasters a glass of Pastis Millésimé 2018, served pure. With its creamy and caramelized notes, this golden liqueur is unlike any other. It’s sweet, licorice not at all overwhelming, with a round flavor of the many plants. Ferroni uses fresh rather than dried leaves, grown in the castle’s sunburnt gardens.
“To qualify as pastis, there has to be a certain level of anise and licorice in the mix, but we use the minimum legal amount and complement it with other flavors,” says Ferroni, whose company manages pastis assembly workshops as well as soft drinks. -up cocktails in Marseille. “But the lower level of anethole [the aniseed element] means it’s not going as cloudy.
This incarnation shows how diverse the drink can be. But is pastis still pastis without ritual? To find out, go to the balcony of the bar La Caravelle on the port side of the Old Port of Marseille for a glass of Henri Bardouin. There you will find all the key elements you need: the taste of anise, the ritual of pastis and, above all, this so important Provençal sun.
This article is adapted from an article published in issue 11 (spring 2021) of National Geographic Traveler’s Food.
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