After a long wait–and a shipping mistake–and another long wait, the Artemisium Absinthium that I’ve been waiting for finally arrived today. And it barely made it into the house, because, well… an ounce of dried leaves, another ounce or two of ear-wrap, and a manila envelope don’t do all that well in a stiff autumn wind. I had to fish the package out of the bushes.
But, it’s here.
Now, let’s be honest. This is an experiment, not a commitment, and as such, I ordered the smallest possible package from Amazon. As it turns out, an ounce of artemisium absinthium goes a long, long ways. A serving is half a tea spoon to a tea spoon, and this… well, it’s a lot of volume. Probably about two decks of playing cards worth. (Some bending would be necessary.)
And my first response is that this stuff smells really, really good. It smells like something you’d put on a turkey. In the neighborhood of sage for the smell.
So, double checking what the always reliable sources on the internet say, we have half a teaspoon of artemisium steeped in about a cup of boiling water.
For five to fifteen minutes.
Yes, I had to read that part twice.
Okay. So, I aimed at five minutes. I’m not saying I’m cautious with drugs–dewormers or otherwise–but let’s go with the lowest possible dosage of the thing for starters. Five minutes, half a teaspoon of artemisium, and fingers crossed.
On the low end of five minutes, I tasted it.
And it does not taste the way it smells. Well, maybe it does, but my first impression was that it was like drinking very, very watery ear-wax.
A couple of sips later, when I had not acclimated to the stuff, I added some splenda. Well, it’s the only sweetener in the house, and I’m pretty sure you’d lapse into a diabetic coma, if you tried sweetening this stuff with real sugar.
I’m not–in general–all that squeamish about bitter. I mean, I actually like aspirin (poster child for accidental poisonings here) and I’ve been known to chew acetaminophen or caffeine when I’m just too lazy to get a cup of water.
Just so you’ll know what I mean, when I say “This is bitter.”
As in slightly more bitter than the stuff you use to keep the cat from chewing on things. (And guess what I’m doing with the rest of it).
The splenda helped, but there’s still an aftertaste that seems to get caught between your tonsils.
The after-after taste (read burps) is actually more or less what I would have expected from the original sniffing of the artemisium.
I did not make it through the entire cup, and I’m fairly certain there’s absolutely no measurable affect (although I do maintain that I do not have worms.)
I am also in a fairly upbeat and positive mood.
I doubt we can attribute that to a few sips of wormwood tea, but the new experience was well worth it. I may, at some point, try it again, using some of the fabulous pointers that I completely ignored, this time. Then again… I’m having trouble envisioning a little licorice tea as being that sweet.
Do I feel more creative?
Maybe just from having confirmed that I am, in fact, the kind of person who tries new things.