Friday evening's descended on midtown Sacramento and we're wondering if the "green fairy" will make a cameo appearance. She's the Tinkerbell-like character said to be conjured from drinking absinthe, the anise-flavored spirit derived from wormwood that was banned domestically until 2007.

Will we soon have visions like Vincent van Gogh, or just feel green from our encounter in the morning?

There's a lot of myth-busting going on in contemporary absinthe culture, namely that absinthe isn't like LSD in a glass. Absinthe today is promoted as an herbal aperitif, a cultured kind of cocktail that's prepared with pageantry.

Now that it's legal, you'll find this once- forbidden beverage being served in Sacramento lounges and restaurants. It's a spirit that's intended to invite civility instead of hallucinations.

"The idea of absinthe as a hard-core party drink, that's new," says Gwydion Stone, founder of the Wormwood Society, an absinthe information and education organization. "That's capitalizing on a bad-boy image, and using the things that were (once) used to condemn absinthe as selling points. It should be a leisurely refreshing drink, like lemonade or ice tea with a kick.

"That's part of our mission: to put absinthe back in its proper context."

So, the absinthe ritual begins:

Russell Eastman, a mixologist at Lounge on 20, pours a shot of Obsello absinthe into a cocktail glass. An absinthe spoon with a sugar cube on top is placed on the glass's rim. Ice-cold water from a small fountain drip-drip-drips over the sugar cube, and the final concoction looks like a cloudy version of Gatorade, or perhaps TheraFlu.

Now, it's time to sip.

The flavor is like that of a licorice jellybean that's been liquefied, a potent mix of herbs and alcohol that makes your mouth hum with some heat. But if your palate is OK with black licorice, absinthe can be a pleasure to sip as the evening drifts along.

That green fairy, however, she stood us up.

Where did it come from?

The origins of absinthe are a little murky – like the beverage itself once water is added. Most trace absinthe back to the late 1700s in Switzerland.

Absinthe later became the spirit du jour in 19th century France, especially after a phylloxera epidemic decimated many of the country's vineyards.

With wine either scarce or priced too high for common folk, the thirsty masses gravitated toward the more affordable absinthe. After-work cocktails meant getting together during "l'heure verte," or "the green hour," for some absinthe sipping and socializing.

"It was an easy way to unwind because of the beautiful and languid ritual attached to it: the fountain, the sugar cubes, the spoons, the saucers, the glasses," says Betina Wittels, author of "Absinthe, Sip of Seduction: A Contemporary Guide" (Speck, $19.38, 144 pages).

"If you prepare the drink correctly, it takes several minutes to combine the absinthe with the sugar and water.

"People would sit around a bistro table in a cafe or bar," Wittels adds. "The fountain usually had four to six spigots, so everyone could have their individual rivers of water to louche (dilute) the drink. Or, an individual drinker used a spoon and poured the iced water from a carafe. And, of course, the imbibers sipped rather than guzzled the absinthe."

Absinthe held a particular charm with European artists and authors of the time, including Van Gogh, Oscar Wilde and Arthur Rimbaud. Pablo Picasso also created a painting in 1901 titled "Absinthe Drinker," a portrait of the artist Angel Fernandez de Soto.

Ernest Hemingway was an absinthe enthusiast, especially when it was mixed with Champagne. You'll find references to the spirit in "For Whom the Bell Tolls."

These sorts of literary and cultural connections later became an entry point for many into the world of absinthe.

"I have a degree from the San Francisco Art Institute," says B. Alex, the distiller of Obsello Absinthe. "As a student I'd heard about Van Gogh lopping off part of his ear after having some absinthe.

Call Bee food and wine writer Chris Macias, (916) 321-1253.