For nearly 100 years, there has been a notable absence of absinthe in America.

Banned in the United States in 1912, the mysterious spirit once thought to possess hallucinogenic qualities recently has begun a comeback. This year, after extensive testing and years of bureaucratic combat, the ban on absinthe was lifted and the spirit that was the victim of its own press is again making inroads in America.

Complex and bitingly bitter, absinthe has a strong anise-seed flavoring, found in spirits such as ouzo or aquavit and varied herbal and botanical notes. It was developed in the 18th century as a medicinal product, but its pleasing flavor soon made it a popular social drink.

Central to the absinthe debate is key ingredient grand wormwood and a substance called thujone. Ingested in quantity, thujone apparently does have a narcotic effect similar to the hallucinations and other oddities described in historic accounts of absinthe consumption. These tales led to its ban in the United States and much of the rest of the world.

Often called the Green Fairy, absinthe was credited with empowering Vincent Van Gogh to cut off his ear and inspiring the Impressionist movement and lending a mind-altering hand to several generations of writers, painters and other bohemian types. They are the sort of stories that kept Robert Lehrman, a lawyer specializing in beverage law, in a philosophical deadlock with the U.S. government for more than four years.

Mr. Lehrman was retained by a Texas distributor to pave the way for approval in the United States of Kubler, an absinthe made using a traditional recipe in Switzerland. He said the problem was not getting the ban on absinthe lifted, which took only a year. The problem came in calling it "absinthe." According to the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau, the agency charged with approving new spirits, absinthe was a drug term. In 2004 the formula for Kubler absinthe was approved with the condition that it would contain no more than 10 parts per million of thujone, a ratio similar to that found in historic absinthes and a quantity incapable of producing a narcotic effect.

"The liquid was approved, but it couldn't be called absinthe," Mr. Lehrman said. "But the manufacturers stuck to their ideals."

Mr. Lehrman said he tried to persuade Kubler to exclude absinthe from the labeling. Then he tried to persuade it to spell the word differently. In the end, it came down to the size of the word on the label and an agreement that "absinthe" would be part of the brand, but not an indication of type.

"We were not prepared to compromise," said Peter Karl, a partner in Kubler, from his home in Switzerland. "I mean, if we have a seafood soup in Switzerland, we can't call it Boston clam chowder. You just can't do that. It was important to us to protect the term 'absinthe.' "

Kubler absinthe is distilled in the Val-de-Travers on the mountainous border of Switzerland and France. Mr. Karl said that protecting the sanctity of absinthe is particularly important in the region, where the distinctive beverage was first concocted.

"This valley never stopped producing it," he said. "There were hidden stills everywhere. There were never any interruptions. This is something we've always had the recipes for."

Although Kubler's arguments were built on tradition, Lucid absinthe, which was approved just ahead of Kubler, took a more contemporary approach. Jared Gurfein, a former corporate lawyer, got in touch with Ted Breaux, a New Orleans resident and absinthe expert who had developed absinthes for the European market under the Jade name. Together, they developed Lucid.

"That's how we ensured quality," said Mr. Gurfein, who today is the the president and CEO of Viridian Spirits, the company producing Lucid. "We partnered with Ted Breaux. Our due diligence on this was very clear. Going to Ted was a lot like trying to design a car and going to Rolls-Royce."

Mr. Gurfein said that Mr. Breaux tested pre-ban absinthe samples and discovered that they fell within the guidelines established by the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau. He said the problems Lucid encountered were similar to Kubler's in that the bureau was concerned about how absinthe might be marketed.

"It was the concept of absinthe that was problematic," he said. "The thing they hammered home was that we could not ever market it as a drug."

Instead, both Lucid and Kubler are banking on the complexity of absinthe. Distilling absinthe, a blend of wormwood, anise, fennel and other herbs and botanicals, is a meticulous process. Each batch is handmade and, like wine, might be a bit different based on the weather, soil and components used.

"There are just limitless variables," Mr. Gurfein said. "The potential for varied styles is just so great."

That complexity, that room to invent and adjust, is what attracted Lance Winters to absinthe. Mr. Winters, who develops spirits at St. George Spirits in Alameda, Calif., spent 11 years perfecting an absinthe recipe that, because of the ban, he never thought would see the light of day. As proud as the former nuclear engineer is of his other concoctions, which include the popular Hanger One vodka, Mr. Winters said his absinthe, which will hit the U.S. market in a limited fashion in the next few months, is the truest representation of the distiller's art.

"It helps educate people what other spirits can be, but it does carry a lot of baggage," he said. "But I believe that if you have something worth saying, then the freedom to say it is priceless. In the language of absinthe, we thought we really had something to say."

Mr. Winters said marketing a product such as absinthe is a blessing and a curse. Because the Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau is so sensitive to the image of absinthe, St. George is being selective about what parts of the liqueur's mythology to embrace.

"I'm kind of taking a salad-bar approach," Mr. Winters said with a laugh. "The part of the iconography that I like is that all these wonderful artists and poets were attracted to it. What I don't want is for people to think they will see green fairies and go crazy. That just doesn't feel valid."

The American absinthe party is fairly exclusive, but Mr. Lehrman said he doesn't think it will remain that way for long. Already, other brands are seeking an American audience, including a label marketed by rock star Marilyn Manson called Mansinthe.

Mr. Lehrman said the thousands of hours he spent grinding against rules and regulations he felt were outdated and wrongheaded probably will prove profitable should absinthe, in fact, take hold in the American market.

"We pushed the door down," he said. "If other people walk through it, so be it. I think there will be more brands, many more brands, in the next year."

Reach Steven Uhles at (706) 823-3626 or steven.uhles@augustachronicle.com.