There’s nothing cocktailians like more than to get a taste of unobtanium. For the longest time, that was absinthe, which was off-limits for most of a century though an ingredient in many classic cocktails, such as the Sazerac. Early in the artisanal drinks movement, bartenders had to make do with absinthe substitutes, such as Pernod. The allure of the naughty and the lure of the illicit led to an enthusiasm for the Green Fairy. Now that absinthe is treated like most any other liquor, it is no longer an object of such desire.
But there is another vintage spirit that has a following in the States born primarily of its unavailability — Amer Picon, a bitter orange liqueur flavored with gentian and quinquina. Amer Picon is the essential ingredient in the essential Basque drink, Picon punch. It also anchors the “liberal cocktail” (a sort of Manhattan with Picon instead of Angostura bitters). Then there is the Brooklyn cocktail (rye whiskey, sweet vermouth, Maraschino, and Picon). Or at least there would be Brooklyn cocktails if Picon were allowed to be sold in the United States.
The FDA is said to have banned Amer Picon because the liqueur contains calamus root. I contacted the FDA to ask if that were really so; the FDA responded that it was the Treasury Department’s Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau that “regulates aspects of alcohol production, importation, wholesale distribution, labeling, and advertising.” I inquired of the bureau what it was it found objectionable about Amer Picon. It chose not to respond.
It was therefore with no little excitement that a friend brought me the drinks menu from one of Washington’s best and most enduring restaurants, L’Auberge Chez Francois. Though fashioned as “A French Country Inn,” it may no longer be out in the country. The restaurant is now surrounded by the McMansion suburbia of Great Falls, Virginia. But it is still the spot to enjoy traditional French food and drink. The cocktail menu had a startling surprise: Picon Biere, a “demi” (or half-pint) of French Kronenbourg beer doctored with an ounce of Amer Picon.
I called L’Auberge Chez Francois to ask whether it was using the real deal, as the menu suggested, or just one of several Picon substitutes — for example, Amer Dit Picon, made by the Golden Moon distillery in Colorado, or Torani Amer, made by the Torani syrup people. The restaurant’s representatives were in no hurry to talk with me. And I can’t blame them. In my desire to celebrate that the elusive Picon Biere is there to be enjoyed less than half an hour from my home, I’m likely ruining the fun for everyone.
Goodness knows I have no desire to narc on anyone making anything quite so tasty as beer and Amer Picon. But it’s not as though the Auberge is doing a very good job of keeping the cocktail speakeasy-secret. Not only is the drink listed on the drinks menu, that menu is up on the internet for everyone to see. If L’Auberge is trying to keep its use of Amer Picon hush-hush and strictly on the QT, it might start by not advertising the rare delicacy on the world wide web.
But it isn’t really so hard to get. Travel to Europe, especially to northern France, and you’ll find Picon in most any cafe. Picon has been part of the portfolio of Diageo, which is hardly a sign of obscurity. The drinks behemoth has been selling over 20 million Euros’ worth of Picon annually, with four-fifths of the liqueur’s sales in France. The stuff is a staple.
In May, Diageo sold Picon to the Campari Group, which I take to be a good sign. After all, Campari proved with the Aperol Spritz that it is adept at turning a simple mix of bitter orange liqueur and fizzy wine into an international cocktail sensation. Perhaps it will do the same thing for beer and Picon.
Let’s hope Campari takes the time to persuade the bureau that Picon is harmless. Or if for no better reason than that Kronenbourg beer is undrinkable on its own.
Eric Felten is the James Beard Award-winning author of How’s Your Drink?
