3 Italian Cities, 3 Signature Drinks, 1 Writer to Experience Them All

As dusk approaches around 7 p.m., a warm apricot glow blankets Piazza San Marco, Venice's iconic central square. This light doesn't solely come from the sunset; it also emanates from the oversized glasses brimming with the vibrant Aperol Spritz, which becomes ubiquitous during this time—known across Italy as aperitivo hour. During the isolating days of the pandemic, these orange delights were few and far between. Now, they're making a strong comeback, as the countless tourists return to Venice like a human tide, akin to acqua alta. For them, aperitivo can only mean one thing: an Aperol Spritz.

The term “aperitivo” (or aperitivi in its plural form) describes both a beverage and a cherished ritual occurring from about 7 to 9 p.m. Its roots trace back to the Latin word aperire, which means to open—specifically, to stimulate the appetite. This tradition typically involves a few complimentary salty snacks and a glass of something alcoholic. Italians hold the aperitivo tradition dear, seeing it as a social event designed to seamlessly transition from day to night, ensuring no one becomes too hungry or thirsty while awaiting dinner. While there are regional interpretations, three drinks, each tied to a different Italian city and steeped in folklore, have risen to classic status.

The Cocktail Monarch of Milan

The Americano—a delightful blend of Campari, sweet vermouth, and a splash of soda—holds the title as the oldest drink in the aperitivo trio. Bartender Gaspare Campari crafted his signature liqueur in the 1860s, infusing it with bitter herbs, aromatic plants, and citrus. At his Milan bar, Caffè Campari, he combined this liqueur with vermouth from nearby Turin, originally calling it Milano-Torino.

Approximately 70 years later, someone unknown introduced soda water to the mix, leading to the creation of the Americano. The name may pay homage to Italian boxer Primo Carnera, who earned the title “L’Americano” after winning a world championship in New York in 1933. Alternatively, it might originate from a Milan bar where, during the 1930s, American tourists sought a lighter version of the Milano-Torino. As is common in cocktail lore, theories vary. You can discuss these debates at Caffè Campari, which has been serving both the Milano-Torino and the Americano for 160 years. When I asked Milanese locals for the best aperitivo spot, they all pointed to Bar Basso.

At 7 p.m. on a Saturday, Bar Basso is buzzing with activity—a remarkable achievement for a venue adorned with brocade walls, worn velvet chairs, and waiters in black vests, all of which were once the pinnacle of style when it opened its doors in 1947. I manage to squeeze into a seat among families and groups of friends gathered around tables quickly piled with plates of plump olives, drizzled focaccia, and tiny tuna sandwiches.

Mirko Stocchetto acquired Bar Basso from its original owner in 1967. At that time, Milan's bars had a rather unsavory reputation, but Mirko had honed his skills in his hometown of Venice, where he worked at the legendary Harry’s Bar. Back then, Venetian bars had a more sophisticated aura, as explained by Mirko’s son, Maurizio, who now oversees Basso.

“Thanks to the film Roman Holiday, American tourists began to arrive,” Maurizio recounts. “It was the era of La Dolce Vita, of Peggy Guggenheim, and these jet-setters flooded in. Americans were big spenders and heavy drinkers, and they loved their cocktails.”

Mirko set out to infuse that glamorous cocktail culture into Milan. Being a true Venetian, he created unique glassware—large goblets, short-stemmed coupes, and simple chalices—to elevate his cocktails. Every day, he transported blocks of ice from the local icehouse on a three-wheeled motorbike equipped with a platform. “They used electric saws to cut the ice,” Maurizio recalls. “If you visited in the morning for coffee, the atmosphere was reminiscent of a carpentry workshop.”

Mirko's dedication paid off. Today, Bar Basso boasts a stellar reputation across the city and features a cocktail menu with over 500 options. True to my purist nature, I opt for the Americano. It arrives in a tall, stemmed glass, adorned with half an orange slice, and its bitterness is as refreshing and invigorating as I imagine it was nearly a century ago.

Florence’s Vibrant Twist

Negronis are as refreshing as Americanos—but they pack a stronger punch. This is thanks to a Florentine count (or so the tale goes) named Camillo Negroni. In 1919, after World War I had concluded and amid the chaos of the Spanish influenza, the count—according to legend—sought a stronger drink. He requested a splash of gin to be added to his Milano-Torino at a bar in Florence.

Until recently, the hallmark establishment for Negronis in Florence was Caffè Giacosa, established in 1815. However, after Giacosa closed its doors in 2017, the title shifted to Caffè Lietta, which opened in 2019 with several members of Giacosa's team.

Caffè Lietta’s bartender, Martina del Sordo, previously honed her skills at the renowned Rivoire in Florence. With her tattoos and striking red lips, she defies the image of a traditional Florentine bartender. Yet, after many years at Rivoire and three at Lietta, she has mastered the art of balancing vermouth, Campari, and gin—and she would never replace the classic orange-slice garnish with the trendy twist of orange peel. Still, she acknowledges the cocktail’s delicate nature. “You’ll never have the same Negroni twice,” Martina explains. “It’s all about the bartender’s touch.”

Fabiano Buffolino, co-owner and visionary of Manifattura, a beloved cocktail bar in Florence, shares her sentiment. He has crafted a drink menu that is thoroughly modern while paying tribute to Italy’s vibrant cocktail heritage. He and his team, dressed in classic white bartender coats, conduct thorough research, resurrect forgotten spirits, and scout for well-crafted local varieties. “This is a bar where we celebrate Italianity, which means we exclusively serve Italian bottles,” Fabiano emphasizes.

These self-imposed constraints have unveiled a plethora of new opportunities. For instance, he has sought out unique spirits—like a juniper and bergamot liqueur from Calabria—that truly reflect the terroir they originate from. “We strive to find the balance between tradition and innovation,” he states, adding that when it comes to aperitivi, “it’s not enough to simply serve Campari and soda.”

Fabiano prepares a Negroni for me using peated gin and bitters that are so robust they render Campari taste like candy by comparison. “The Negroni allows for infinite combinations,” he notes. “But if someone walks in and requests the classic version, we consider it a win.”

Venice’s Divisive Spritz

Fabiano’s remarks linger in my mind as I arrive in Venice, a city renowned for its signature cocktail, the Bellini, which beautifully combines peach nectar with prosecco. Yet, the Aperol Spritz—a refreshing mix of prosecco, soda water, and the bitter, orange-hued Aperol, garnished with an olive and an orange slice—has gained such immense popularity among tourists that I notice a growing resistance in the less touristy bars. One sign bluntly states, "WE DON’T SERVE ANY F***ING APEROL SPRITZES."

There’s nothing inherently wrong with the Aperol Spritz itself; it boasts a rich history. The concept of Spritzes, made with white or sparkling wine and soda, first appeared in Venice during World War I. Aperol, created in nearby Padua just as the war concluded, seemed like a natural addition. However, what seems to frustrate the locals is the drink’s Instagram-fueled link to mass tourism and the dominance of Campari’s extensive advertising campaign, which has overshadowed independent producers. Over the years, the company has absorbed smaller alcohol brands, including Aperol and Cynar, an artichoke-based bitter also featured in spritzes.

"In my youth, we only enjoyed prosecco for aperitivo," reflects Stefano Munari, gesturing toward the bustling tables surrounding Piazza San Marco. "Campari was seen as a drink for the elderly. Now, just look around: it’s all orange, orange, orange."

Stefano manages fine dining at Gran Caffè Quadri, one of the oldest cafes in the square, established in 1775. About ten years ago, the cafe was revitalized by brothers Massimiliano and Raffaele Alajmo, an esteemed chef and restaurateur, respectively, with a redesign by Philippe Starck. As a seasoned hospitality professional, Stefano adopts a flexible attitude toward the Aperol Spritz—after all, catering to customer desires is key—and he occasionally enjoys one himself, albeit without the olive.

Typically, I would avoid the cafes in Piazza San Marco, with their inflated prices, multilingual menus, and cheesy bands belting out pop hits. However, in the name of research, I settle at Gran Caffè Quadri and order an Aperol Spritz. It’s... adequate. Yet as I sit there, bathed in the golden glow of the sunset reflecting off the Basilica, watching Italian families wander by on their way to their own aperitivi, I find myself charmed. Once my glass is empty, I opt for another drink—this time, a Bellini.