Flower Power: St-Germain Liqueur

I’m not generally one for liqueurs. They tend to be oversweet desert drinks high on sugar and low on complexity. The worst offenders are those meted out by the shot glass at college parties and shore houses, often on a dare. Countless hangovers start there.

Consider the regret-filled shudders that accompany the likes of Aftershock, Southern Comfort, Sambuca and the umlaut twins—Goldschläger and Jägermeister.

Still, let’s not impugn the entire category. Many liqueurs do suitably well as mixers. Campari makes a lovely negroni. Cointreau does wonders for a margarita. And Chambord ... comes in a super fancy bottle.

So when I recently felt like mixing things up a bit, I picked up a bottle of the hot liqueur of the moment, St-Germain. It's made from elderflowers. What are elderflowers? Beats me. But I was taken with the method in which they are gathered: In the foothills of the Alps, eccentric Frenchmen pluck the blossoms by hand and transport them by bicycle to market. And according to its bottle, it's the “first liqueur in the world created in the artisanal French manner.” They had me at artisanal.

Celebrated bartenders who like to think of themselves as artisans rave about the stuff. And the New York Times named the St-Germain cocktail among last decade’s best (more on that later).

So, I was expecting something like James Bond at a Monte Carlo casino. An elegant mixer that was subtle, complex, charismatic.

Well, it was not quite like that. Surprisingly, it was not particularly subtle or floral. It was overpowering—more Brown than Bond. Boy, elderflower must be one fruity flower. It smacks of grapefruit. A little peary. Honeyed a bit. Sweet in a not-entirely cloying way, yet still way too sweet for me.

But I wasn’t going to drink this straight. I was planning to mix it. I had a hunch it would go well with gin. And I thought Mrs. McDrinkerson would go for the aforementioned St-Germain cocktail (2 parts sauvignon blanc, 1.5 parts St-Germain, 2 parts tonic). So I made a cocktail for the Mrs. and a “Left Bank Martini” (1 part sauvignon blanc, 1 part St-Germain, 1.5 parts gin) for me.

Both had just a bit too much zing. I rebooted my wife’s drink with a St-Germain and tonic:strike two. So overpowering was the St-Germain that the two cocktails tasted almost identical—just varied shades of indomitable elderflower. It turned away gin even when the latter was trebled. The only spirit to stand up to St-Germain was the last of my Patron Anejo. Flower power indeed.

Still, it actually paired well with some sauvignon blanc and dry vermouth. But I had to use about a quarter ounce—and lots of Beefeater—before it quieted down enough to be called “subtle.”

So in the final analysis, St-Germain is certainly not a wallflower. It is an intriguing mixer, but you really have to exercise restraint with this one. Alas, despite all its uniqueness it is still a bloody liqueur. For better or worse.