The Negroni is a cocktail so popular that hardly anyone drinks it anymore.
Of the many classic drinks revived in the cocktail renaissance of the new millennium, the Negroni has perhaps been the most celebrated. More than a decade ago, the Negroni became something of a secret handshake among cocktailians. Civilians caught on, and soon, everyone was ordering Negronis.
But a problem developed: The drink was too easy to make — simply equal parts gin, sweet vermouth, and Campari. Ambitious bars with artisanal mixologists couldn’t show off their mad mixing skills stirring gin, sweet vermouth, and Campari. Variations proliferated. Twenty years ago, bartender Wayne Collins came up with a “white Negroni” made with gin, blanc vermouth, and the French aperitif Suze. In the time since, there have been countless variations on the classic, among them strawberry Negronis, grapefruit Negronis, Negronis with Cynar instead of Campari, beet-infused Negronis, and even “Beergronis.”
Thus the paradox: Everyone is ordering Negronis, and it’s become hard to get an actual Negroni.
Take the Turin, Italy, speakeasy called the Mad Dog Social Club. It is a Negroni sort of place. So much so that the landing page of its website features the three bottles necessary for making the drink. And yet, it wasn’t good enough for the Mad Dog to make a proper Negroni. The speakeasy had to come up with a “Mad Dog Negroni.” It’s made with equal parts gin and Italian vermouth (so far, so good) and an ever so slightly smaller part of Campari that has been infused with grapefruit and chamomile.
Were we to stop there, we might still have something one could call a Negroni, even though the lily has been gilded. Campari, after all, is one of those impossibly complex Italian bitter liqueurs that are made by infusing dozens of botanicals in alcohol. Among its wonderfully obscure ingredients is the bark of a shrub found on a few far-flung Bahamian islands. Campari is already crowded with more flavors than one could possibly winkle out, and yet, we are somehow supposed to want a drink made with Campari that has been doctored to add even more flavors?
But the point is moot. The Mad Dog’s Negroni isn’t satisfied with the basic troika of ingredients, even having altered the most distinctive of the components. No, the bar goes one step further and adds a half-part of French (also known as “dry”) vermouth. It’s not a bad drink, even if the dry vermouth falls flat. But it’s not a Negroni.
What’s happened to the Negroni is not unlike what happened to the martini a little over a decade ago. Every bar had a martini list and almost nothing on offer that was an actual martini. Civilized people that we are, I think we can agree that a martini is a drink of gin and dry vermouth, stirred with ice until very cold, and strained into a cocktail glass. The only acceptable options to be entertained are 1) whether one adds a dash of orange bitters before stirring and 2) whether one garnishes the drink with a bit of lemon peel or an olive.
One of my favorite drinks is the Gibson, which is a dry gin martini garnished with a pickled pearl onion. Not only do I like the drink. I like that it has its own name. Yes, it is a variation on a martini, but it has its own identity. And if you are inclined to stump your bartender with a truly obscure bit of cocktail nomenclature, ask for a Bradford, which is a martini that has been shaken rather than stirred.
By contrast, there is the pernicious practice of modifying a drink and modifying its name rather than coming up with an altogether different moniker. The vodka martini is perhaps the most cautionary example. The drink became so popular that people came to think of a martini as a drink made with vodka. How much better if it had been known by its own name, maybe something Russian: Anyone for an icy cold Chuikov? Or perhaps a Show Trial Cocktail?
With that in mind, let’s return to the Negroni. There is ample precedent for altering the drink and christening the new variation with its own name. Replace the gin in a Negroni with American whiskey (either rye or bourbon), and you get a Boulevardier, a 1920s drink as elegant as its name.
But the Boulevardier is not a bourbon Negroni. It’s a Boulevardier.
When I ask for a Negroni, please, oh please don’t give me anything other than gin, sweet vermouth, and Campari. And if I ask for a martini — oh, don’t get me started.
Eric Felten is the James Beard Award-winning author of How’s Your Drink?
