The social drinker
The Edwardian short-story writer Saki — as funny as Oscar Wilde, but hardly remembered today — has one of his regular characters drawl that “People may say what they like about the decay of Christianity; the religious system that produced green Chartreuse can never really die”.
While all sorts of booze has close links with Christianity, it is difficult to think of a drink with closer links than this syrupy, thick, herbal concoction, which, taste-wise, bears more than a passing resemblance to the German digestif, Jagermeister.
Chartreuse is not only made by Carthusian monks, they even produce a special white version for the Pope himself.
Those of us who are not infallible must content ourselves with either green or yellow Chartreuse.
The green variety, which is much more common, is reputedly made from 130 herbs and plants, and is both spicy and pungent as well as strong, at 55pc proof. The yellow variety is much milder and sweeter, and comes in at 40pc.
Those lucky enough to have been skiing in France may remember the drink from their ski resort, where it is a popular
apres ski digestif, but it is rarely imbibed here.
Like lobster and various other pleasures, Chartreuse is the sort of thing that few people have at home, but it is, nevertheless, very enjoyable from time to time as a novelty drink, or to clear the jaded palate.
If you happen to see a bottle in a bar or pub, it makes a good alternative to the usual — especially as Chartreuse is one of the few liqueurs that improves with age, so you need not worry about it going off; a common problem in some country pubs.
Chartreuse brings to mind white-robed French monks, while Jagermeister suggests all the sophistication of a night in Magaluf — so the French drink is the one to go for, in the unlikely event that you feel like drinking a Jagermeister in the Shelbourne Hotel or the Merrion.