Vermouth is for drinking
Perusing a house cocktail list is a bewildering experience. Scanning the slab of a menu, hoping to spot a drink you might actually want, but it’s written in wiggly font and these lights are dim and why is the menu unnecessarily bound in leather? You vowed to be adventurous tonight – but each drink seems to be adorned with something embarrassing like grapefruit caviar or a big basil leaf. It’s all made with gin, save for the one with the Spanish name. That one’s with tequila. They all start at $18.
So when the bartender ambles over, you panic-order an Old Fashioned. You were overwhelmed, unsure of where the cocktail alleys might lead, and you played it safe.
If only we knew. Then perhaps we’d better understand what to expect from the Basquiat’s Gamble or Ten Fingers in My Ears, or whatever the hell they’ll make you say to order a drink.
Vermouth, in essence, is wine. Fortified and aromatized, perhaps colored, but wine nonetheless.
Let’s set the menus aside for a minute and explore. You’ll be having vermouth tonight. And some aperitifs, perhaps an amaro.
Unlike beer or wine or liquor, vermouth and aperitifs don’t seem immediately drinkable. They are sidekicks, bit players, living under pseudonyms like Chartreuse or Campari. But they’re integral players in our favorite cocktails, the Scottie Pippen to gin’s Michael Jordan. And understanding (and appreciating) this class of drink is the key to the discovery – because knowing why you like your favorites is the secret to finding more.
Vermouth, in essence, is wine. Fortified and aromatized, perhaps colored, but wine nonetheless. And just like wine, producers from around the globe take great care to craft elegant, kickass stuff – tinkering with botanicals and timing and tasting along the way.
Even if you’re unfamiliar with vermouth, there’s a chance you’ve heard the name Cocchi. Giorgio Bava and his family have been making wine in the countryside of Italy for 400 years, and have spun off an equally successful (perhaps more so) branch of the family business in making vermouths, amaros, and other botanicals. They provide bottles to bars and restaurants around the world, their liqueurs likely landing in some of your favorite cocktails.
We spoke with Giorgio one afternoon – delightfully Italian, Giorgio sipped on his vermouth on the rocks during our conversation, referring to it as “neat over ice.” It’s how he, and many Europeans in general, prefers to drink – lower ABV but larger pours and often with soda or tonic.
“It allows you to drink for longer amounts of time,” he laughed. “But also, there is so much flavor and character in each of these.” He gestured to the impressive row of family bottles behind him. “I could serve you a pour of six of these, and you would get six different experiences.” Happily, he recommended a cheese pair.
This is not to suggest that you pour some leftover Noilly Prat over a little ice. In fact, vermouth turns quickly once opened. But sniff out a fresh, quality bottle of vermouth at your local bar or liquor store and try it with some tonic. And don’t stop there. Once you’ve broken the seal, there’s dozens of phenomenal aperitifs you’ve left sequestered to an “only when I make a Negroni” type of purgatory.
Often the case, other countries steeped in culture have solved what has eluded us. Siestas. Universal healthcare. Vermouth and aperitivi, on ice, at a long lunch during a break from your unionized job. There is a lesson to be taken here.
“Sniff out a fresh, quality bottle of vermouth at your local bar or liquor store and try it with some tonic.”
Imagine a summer evening dinner where you could lazily drink for hours with friends and still bike to work the next morning. A night out at the new cocktail spot where you’re no longer intimidated by the menu because you know what Cynar tastes like. Spying a bottle of Suze on the wall and giving it a wink, then ordering some with soda and ice.
“Somebody once said these are like cocktails in a bottle,” said Giorgio. “And I really believe that.”