Back in the Bottle

It has been a long wait for Radomil Hill, who was 24 in 1948 when the communists nationalized his father’s profitable distillery. For 40-odd years, Hill was forced to apply his skills at state-owned distilleries and wineries. During that period he never used or divulged family recipes, which survived only in his memory and a worn notebook dating back to the beginning of his apprenticeship at age 16. His chance to rebuild the family firm came in the fall of 1989.

By that time he was 65, old enough to think about retirement, but that didn’t dampen his enthusiasm. “For 40 years I waited for the moment when I could have my own business again, when I could put my skills to full use,” he says. Selling his car for seed money, Hill “hired” his wife, and in May 1990, Hill’s Liquere, first established in 1920, was back in business.

At first, Hill played it safe, launching only five products: rum, vodka, peppermint, coconut and coffee liqueurs. But then he whipped up, as a favor to an arty friend, a batch of absinthe — a bitter, emerald- green drink that is very high in alcohol. Depending on the preparation, absinthe can be highly toxic. Hill’s late father used to produce the brew in great quantities. He named it Hill’s Absinth.

Artists in 19th and early 20th century France seemed particularly drawn to absinthe’s ability to impart a cheerful mood and sharpened sense of perception, as evidenced in Edouard Manet’s The Absinthe Drinker and Edgar Degas’ L’Absinthe. The drink turned out to be the undoing of many artists, though. In the early 1900s, La Fée Verte (The Green Fairy), as the French affectionately called it, was banned in many countries including France, Switzerland and the United States, but never in Czechoslovakia.

Absinthe’s dubious reputation made Hill skeptical. “I was thinking, if I get stuck with the absinthe I make and have to drink it all myself, it will give me a stroke,” he says. He never had to, and the liqueur’s status as forbidden fruit proved its biggest selling point. “The drink’s dark past gives people a feeling of living on the edge, being able to drink something that might have hallucinogenic properties or function as a creativity enhancer,” says Alexandr Spirov, managing director of La Boheme, a London company that introduced Hill’s Absinth to the U.K. in 1997. Today, he can’t keep up with the orders. Although Hill’s Liquere produces 54 different products, absinthe accounts for 75% of production (or 77,000 liters annually) and a vast majority of its exports to countries like Austria, Germany, the U.K. and Russia.

But contrary to what many absinthe drinkers are keen to believe, Hill’s Absinth — or any other legally produced variety in Europe — lacks the mind-bending properties of the original. Guidelines strictly limit the amount of thujone, a chemical extracted from wormwood that is responsible for absinthe’s psychoactive qualities. So modern drinkers shouldn’t expect any hallucinations. Hill’s Absinth is 70% alcohol and has a distinctly Czech taste: less anise, a bit more peppermint than most varieties. “I make my absinthe so it doesn’t smell and taste so much like candy for children,” Hill says.

Despite suffering a stroke almost two years ago Hill is still active in the business. “I won’t let anybody tell me what to do,” he says. “This way when I do a good job, I am happy. When I screw up, I don’t sleep.” His two children and a grandson are now helping, though he continues to lecture them: “A good liquor maker reads a recipe and immediately knows what the liquor is going to be. It’s like a musician who looks at a sheet of music and can hear it.” Hill is confident his family will make sure the business prospers after he dies. His only complaint? “They don’t drink enough.”