Last month, a letter from the Carthusian monks in Voiron, France circulated through the world of spirits. It was, in the hackneyed parlance of journalism, a “bombshell.” The letter explains a decision by the monks to limit the production of Charteuse, their famed Alpine liqueur dating to 1605, in order “to focus on their primary goal: protect their monastic life and devote their time to solitude and prayer.”

Apparently this decision had been made quietly in 2021 (quietly being how most decisions are made in a monastic order sworn to a vow of silence). A growing Chartreuse shortage started being noticed by spirits enthusiasts during 2022. The drinks website Punch verified the letter a couple of weeks ago. Chartreuse will now only be sold exclusively under allocation, making it much more difficult to find. From the monks’ letter:

Making millions of cases does not make any sense in today’s environmental content and will have a negative impact on the planet in the very short term…Basically, we look to do less but better and for longer.

First of all, allow me to applaud this stance by the Carthusian monks. I deeply admire their willingness to say “enough” to the relentless market forces pushing them to produce more, more, more, at all costs. It’s honestly inspiring that the monks refuse to see their earthly purpose as satisfying the demands of some knucklehead mixologist doing his little riff on the Last Word at some lame speakeasy in some third-tier city.

Less but better and for longer. What a refreshing thing to hear in 2023. In nearly every other realm of our soul-crushing age, the focus is to scale everything as big as possible, quality be damned. As someone who operates in a media industry that values an endless stream of cheap, SEO-driven clickbait over well-written, thoughtful content that costs effort and money to produce, I stand with the monks.

Now would be a great time to upgrade!

Realizing, however, the local impact of this decision by the monks, I admit to driving around the Philadelphia metro area this week, on a mission. I visited about about a dozen stores, mostly in South Jersey, looking for whatever bottles of Chartreuse I could find on the dusty shelves. I was only able to locate two bottles of yellow at one store ($57), a single bottle of green at another ($62). Yes, I bought all three bottles, sorry.

The other night, deep in my liquor cabinet, I also found a mostly-full bottle of the green, I’d cracked open. I used to drink a lot of Chartreuse during my cocktail writing heyday, the Boozehound era. Chartreuse used to be a pretty typical shot for bartenders (after Fernet Branca). Though I realized I hadn’t tasted any in a long time.

Given the shortage, I hesitantly poured a scant ounce of that green Chartreuse for myself, and sipped it neat. “Oh hell yes, that’s the good stuff,” I thought with each tiny sip. It was almost emotional. It felt somehow right to pair this glass with Peter, Paul, and Mary’s melancholy rendition of “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?”

Chartreuse is a liqueur so legendary that a color is literally named after it. It was first produced in the early 18th century by the Carthusian monks, based on a secret 1605 recipe for an “elixir for long life”—with 130 different herbs, plants, and flowers—that was created by a medieval alchemist. Even today, the only people who know the full recipe are three monks—and the two that actually make the liqueur each only know half the formula. As I mentioned, they’ve taken a vow of silence. Yes, it all sounds like a fairy tale, but I swear it’s all true.

There are two types of Chartreuse: Green, beautifully fiery and intense, clocks in at 110 proof; Yellow, rounder and more honeyed, is 86 proof. Both are amazing to drink neat, but each is distinct and in cocktails each has it own particular uses. Chartreuse is also one of the few liqueurs can be aged in oak, and the monastery releases special, extra-aged VEP bottles that sell upwards of $300 to $500.

But what sets Chartreuse furthest apart is that it’s one of the fe