Jägermeister: A plea to return to this bitter's roots

Long before the Jägerettes started pushing test-tube shots of their eponymous liqueur, you could order this German-made bitter without embarrassment. Although created more than a hundred years ago, Jägermeister remained safe from American tastes until the era of gauche fern bars. Still a favorite in German blue-collar bars, Jägermeister is as respected there as Jack Daniel's is here. But somehow Jägermeister's sturdy regard hasn't translated well in the States.

Marketeers changed their approach, and Jägermeister went from being sipped alongside a heavy beer to being downed as "liquid heroin" (Jägermeister and peppermint schnapps) and "rat shooters" (the bitter and who knows what else). Not surprisingly, this rich blackish-red liqueur with supposed narcotic powers began collecting quite a few mentions in miscellaneous police records here in the States. But Jägermeister doesn't deserve the reputation of absinthe or the behavior of uncouth Americans.

Still produced in a family-owned distillery in Wolsenbuttel, a north central town near the former Iron Curtain, Jägermeister (pronounced "YAY-ger-mice-ter") is a 70-proof blend of 56 fruits, spices, and herbs - none of which happen to be mania-producing wormwood. Of course, many bartenders and distributors in the United States will still tell you that a pony of Jägermeister (meaning "hunt master") will serve up opiate-like affects that'll last for hours. Just remember: The more shnockered you get, the more tips the bartender gets.

German emigrants and tourists, of course, find this all too amusing. Leave it to American ingenuity to come up with a marketing scheme that puts a spirit intended to be sipped in 2-ounce portions on tap in nightclubs across the country. Happily, I can not comment from experience as to whether Jägermeister tastes best on tap or from its bottle. I can only hope the marketeer who came up with that hasn't plans for instituting 4-foot beer bongs at the bar. Not surprisingly, Jägermeister isn't the only spirit that's been subjected to the schemes of marketeers. Grand Marnier, in fact, faces a similar plight to Jägermeister. Both distillates have complicated flavors that few palates can appreciate straight. Rather than use them as accents in well-made cocktails, people have taken the approach of downing them fast - just as the term "shooter" implies - or hiding their taste with sugary cordials. The latter accounts for such creations as the frightening Loch Ness, a mix of Midori, Bailey's, and Jägermeister. The '80s parallel to this is the Cadillac Margarita, a "top-shelf" Margarita with a float of Grand Marnier - or better yet, a shot of Grand Marnier on the side. I can tell you from experience that those who imbibe the Cadillac Margarita are typically quite annoying and typically tip well only when watched. Of course, I also admit to serving this drink on many occasions and to keeping a bottle of Jägermeister in the fridge, ready to serve. But how often do I bring out the bottle for a bunch of ill-behaved sots? It's good business practice to have a fully stocked bar, but it's even better business practice to monitor the aesthetics with which you serve your stock. After all, it isn't snobbery or bad business to try to educate.

Two-for-one doubles with a free buffet is the approach that has led many US cities to enact zoning regulations impeding the opening of bars in "nice" neighborhoods. If more people were to take a stand against companies and trends promoting an irresponsible view of alcohol, we might not have this problem (or Jägermeister cited in so many police reports). Neighborhood bars are going by the wayside, and along with them go a friendly community that's walking distance from home.