I’m in Tuscany, where the piazzas glow orange at dusk, not only from the sunsets but also from the profusion of Aperol spritz. The bright orange drink has exploded in popularity in the past five years. Everyone’s drinking it: young women, middle-aged couples, groups of wrinkly tanned men, all sucking from straws sticking out of vast wine glasses loaded with ice cubes that give the illusion that there’s more liquid than there is in the famous 3-2-1 formula: three parts prosecco (equating to just one-tenth of a bottle), two parts Aperol and one part soda water, plus the obligatory orange slice.
At the trendiest bar in Lucca I scoured the menu for the two drinks I used most to associate with Italy: Martini Rosso and the bellini. They weren’t there. Glitzy Aperol spritz, the parakeet of the drinks world, is eliminating the less brash native alternatives.
Much of the controversy when it comes to the beverage revolves around the Aperol. Some people find it too sweet, while for others it’s far too bitter.
While clearly I have a bone to pick with Ms. Peppler, she does seem to know her stuff. For one, she received a James Beard nomination for her book Apértifi: Cocktail Hour the French Way. Which is, um, a lot more than I can say for myself. Shes also written for the NYT, Bon Appetit, Real Simple, Rachael Ray Magazine, and more. But resume aside, I—along with the entire internet—cannot stand for her Spritz takedown.
“Served in branded, jumbo wine glasses, the sugary apéritif is paired with low-quality prosecco, soda water and an outsize orange slice, resulting in something that drinks like a Capri Sun after soccer practice on a hot day. Not in a good way,” the writer, Rebekah Peppler said in the NYT. WELL Rebekah, Id have to say I respectfully (or, um, maybe not so respectfully) disagree.
MyRecipes editor Margaret Eby just wants us all to leave Capri Sun out of the narrative. “Some people like an Aperol Spritz, other people dont like an Aperol Spritz, but I think we can all agree that to besmirch the good name of Capri Sun is going too far,” she chimed in.
“The Aperol spritz isnt actually good,” she continues, taking particular offense with cheap prosecco. Whats wrong with a good Aldi bubbly, huh Rebekah!? Some of us are balling on a budget.
On Thursday, The New York Times had the audacity publish a bold-faced lie (yes, thats what were choosing to call their opinion) by claiming Aperol Spritz is “not a good drink.” Frankly, Im appalled anyone in their right mind could slander this sweet, beautiful, innocent Italian apertif cocktail—and Im taking it personally.
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I’m in Tuscany, where the piazzas glow orange at dusk, not only from the sunsets but also from the profusion of Aperol spritz. The bright orange drink has exploded in popularity in the past five years. Everyone’s drinking it: young women, middle-aged couples, groups of wrinkly tanned men, all sucking from straws sticking out of vast wine glasses loaded with ice cubes that give the illusion that there’s more liquid than there is in the famous 3-2-1 formula: three parts prosecco (equating to just one-tenth of a bottle), two parts Aperol and one part soda water, plus the obligatory orange slice.
At the trendiest bar in Lucca I scoured the menu for the two drinks I used most to associate with Italy: Martini Rosso and the bellini. They weren’t there. Glitzy Aperol spritz, the parakeet of the drinks world, is eliminating the less brash native alternatives.
It’s happening in Britain, too. Go to any pub or wine bar on a summer Saturday and you’ll see it everywhere, in branded glasses with ‘Aperol spritz’ in diagonal lettering. It’s now so popular that some London pubs can get away with charging £15.50 per glass.
I tend to fall for the drink about once per summer, enticed by its Amalfi coast associations: ‘Italian sunset in a glass’. I like the fact that Aperol liqueur was invented in 1919 by the Barbieri brothers in Padua, and that it’s made of poetic plant ingredients: oranges, rhubarb, cinchona and ‘30 other secret ingredients’ which the Campari Group vowed not to tamper with when they purchased Aperol in 2000.
But after the first three or four thirst-quenching sips, I find it starts to pall, and I start to wonder what those 30 other secret ingredients might be. It tastes a bit chemical (like Campari) but also sickeningly sweet, and I go off its garish Just Stop Oil colour.
I don’t think I’m alone in this. Those glasses of Aperol spritz that cast their glow on Italy’s piazzas are often slow to go down. I notice a great many half-finished ones standing about. They have become a disappointment: weaker, warmer versions of themselves. You see people ploughing on with their Aperol spritzes all the way through supper – and it doesn’t go at all well with food. The soda water and ice cube padding starts to feel like a real rip-off.
Not everyone is in on the craze. When I ordered mine, the old Italian waiter did a wince of disapproval, and was more approving of my husband’s request for a negroni. I felt like a superficial follower of fashion.
Aperol spritz is a photogenic drink for the Instagram world, its popularity spreading almost entirely because of its visual wow factor. With its low alcohol content (just 11 per cent, less than half of Campari’s), I wonder whether it’s in fact a kind of Campari for children, or for adults who don’t want to be challenged by anything too bitter, interesting, unpredictable or demanding.
Aperol – More Than Just a Spritz
FAQ
Is Aperol Spritz any good?
Why is everyone obsessed with Aperol Spritz?
What does an Aperol Spritz say about you?
What type of people drink Aperol Spritz?
What if Aperol Spritz isn’t served immediately?
And if the Aperol spritz isn’t served immediately, she added, “the ice melts and dilutes things so you get a watered-down version of something that’s not even the best expression of the drink.” Pass on the bad prosecco, and opt for a pétillant naturel or another quality sparkling wine.
Is Aperol Spritz a good Spritz?
As the spritz skyrocketed to mainstream popularity in 2019, The New York Times published a scaldingly hot take that dragged it. Author Rebekah Peppler made waves by asserting that the Aperol Spritz isn’t that great, comparing the flavor to “ a Capri Sun after soccer practice on a hot day. Not in a good way. ”
Is Aperol Spritz a polarizing cocktail?
Part of its appeal is the vibrant orange hue it gets from Aperol, an Italian bittersweet spirit that’s been sipped for over a century. But, as it turns out, it also seems to be the source of a divisive argument about the drink’s overall merits. That’s right: the Aperol Spritz has turned into a polarizing cocktail.
What does Aperol Spritz taste like?
“It tastes like carbonated cough syrup!” There are few beverages that scream summer as much as Aperol Spritzes do. You can find bright orange, umbrella-covered carts hawking the iconic cocktail all across Europe. And you’d be hard pressed to look at an American restaurant’s happy hour menu without seeing one.