by Joseph Levendusky
Summer is on the horizon and as it draws near it comes time to make our obeisances to Count Negroni with the cocktail in hand that bears his name. Though origin stories are greatly in dispute, according to the dominant legend sometime in 1919 Count Camillo de Negroni swaggered into the Caffè Casoni in Florence, Italy and asked for his usual cocktail—the Americano—but with a bit of added kick.
To take the edge off the good Count’s mood, the solicitous bartender, Fosco Scarselli, substituted one part gin for the Americano’s soda water and garnished it with orange to signify a new drink. A star was born.
The Americano was comprised of one part Campari, one part rosso vermouth and about three parts soda water. It was garnished with a twist of lemon. It was so named because beginning in the mid-19thcentury it became a favored drink of American tourists in Italy who preferred to tone down the pungent blend of vermouth and Campari, called a Mi To, that was drunk by natives.
Campari, an aperitif made from a rather unusual mix of fruit and herbs–including “chinotto”, a bitter relative of the orange–had become wildly popular in Italy in the second half of the 19thcentury. The recipe was perfected in 1860 by none other than Gaspare Campari, a local café owner and blender of bitters in the Milan area. In the early twentieth century, Campari’s sons began distribution beyond Italy and commissioned prominent artists to produce high style Art Nouveau advertising.
Campari Advertising; Gaspare Campari on the right
The English author, Kingsley Amis, one of Britain’s Angry Young Men of the 1950’s, and reputedly as accomplished a drinker as he was a writer, found the Americano “good at lunchtime and before Italian food”. As for the Negroni, Amis opined, “This is a really fine invention. It has the power, rare with drinks and indeed with anything else, of cheering you up.”
The Count’s eponymous drink, the Negroni, is redolent of summer sun, la dolce vita, and unhurried al fresco dining laden with good conversation. I remember not who introduced me to the Negroni, or when, but the drink has been a staple of my summer table for many years.
Negronis have long held a quiet place of honor in Italian gastronomy as a revered aperitif. Early in the present century, the Negroni began to gain wider popularity as the martini crazed fanned out to explore more far-flung territory. Rest assured you needn’t have Florentine roots to love the Negroni.
There is a video trending on Instagram that shows Stanley Tucci—who lately appears to aspire to fill the hole in our souls left by the absence of Anthony Bourdain—making a Negroni for his wife, literary agent Felicity Blunt, while she records the procedure on her phone. In a cute game of cat and mouse, Tucci attempts to hand the finished drink to his wife who cannot accept it while filming. Tucci takes a sip, teasingly threatening to commandeer his spouse’s refresher.
In concocting the drink, Tucci gets it half right and half wrong. He updates the traditional proportion of one-to-one-to one by adding an additional part of gin. A goth bartender in an East Village dive divulged this trick to me many years ago. She held that it allowed the flavors to play more freely—especially the botanicals of the gin—rather than being dominated by the bitterness of the Campari. Despite purple hair and being young enough to be my daughter, this Second Avenue barkeep had it exactly right. New Yorkers know everything.
Tucci makes the Negroni straight up, which is also my preference. (It is perfectly acceptable, if not as elegant, to serve a Negroni over ice in a rocks glass. But in that case, stick to the original proportions and also insert an elegant campanile of citrus that protrudes over the rim of the glass.)
But Tucci errs when he shakes his drink in a martini shaker. Clear drinks demand to be stirred as shaking can aerate the booze making it cloudy and less pretty. A fine Negroni catches the light like stained glass. It has visual splendor as well as a sophisticated palate of flavors.
Here is your sure path to Negroni nirvana: Grab as many martini glasses as you have guests. Fill the glasses with ice cubes and top off with filtered water. You are chilling the glasses. In the bottom part of an ice filled shaker, mixing glass or other suitable vessel, measure one part Campari, one part quality sweet vermouth (don’t cheap out) and two parts of your favorite gin.
You will need to adjust the exact measurements to the capacity of your Martini glasses. Too little in the glass contravenes the appropriate spirit of generous hospitality, and too much—well, spilling is a sinful waste. I prefer to garnish with lemon in a nod to the original Americano, but orange is no outrage. I find that the hightened tartness of lemon happily joins the whirl of flavors.
Use a paring knife to cut a generous twist lengthwise, from end to end. Get just a tiny bit of the flesh of the lemon, which will impart a drop of juice to your cocktail. Empty the glasses and shake out excess moisture. Stir your cocktail vigorously with a bar spoon or a knife. Rub the lemon twists around the rims of the glasses and set aside.
Strain the drinks into the glasses and give each lemon peel a zestful twist overhead before dropping into its glass. This will release a mist of lemon oil that will float luxuriously on the surface of the drink. Serve immediately. Repeat until peals of good-natured laughter resound from your summertime rat pack.
In the dark winter months, one may substitute bourbon or rye whiskey for the gin. You will then be making a Boulevardier, a pleasing and hearty winter variation–essentially a Manhattan with the addition of Campari. You may garnish with orange, but again I prefer the more piquant flavor of lemon. Try it both ways. A dash of bitters adds a bit of beguiling spice. Do your research and draw your own conclusions.
Bear in mind that the Negroni is a powerful potion. Take a modest word of warning from Anthony Bourdain, patron saint of joyful consumption. The Negroni will “hit you like a freight train after four or five.” Thus forewarned, it is best perhaps to serve with tasty noshes. Tony would wink his hearty approval. “Cin cin! Alla nostra!”