#aperitivi--cocktails

#aperitivi--cocktails

La Maddalena, Sardinia, is home to the first national park of Sardinia, featuring mostly undeveloped beaches and a vibrant main town with restaurants and shops.

Temple Bar is going full throwback this April with a two-night '90s takeover that leans all the way into downtown nostalgia, transforming into a 'living time capsule' with low lighting and oversized martini glasses.

Everything revolves around the food. Instead of trying to tweak a recipe to fit with a sweet or tangy drink, start with the food and ensure it remains the star of the show. The real purpose of seeking an appropriate drink pairing is to create balance with the food. Sweet with salty, bitter with sweet, etc. In this way, food flavors aren't masked with the addition of a drink, but instead are highlighted.

But then the playoffs arrive, and you and I are reminded of what makes twilight football-outdoors and on grass-special. You start off in broad daylight as both teams fuck around for a quarter or two. Then the sun slowly begins to bleed away, taking all distractions along with it as it sinks below the horizon. Now we're in primetime, when everyone is watching. Now every player on the field is in the spotlight, and you, the viewer at home, are dialed in.

On my last trip, in Bologna, I found yet another way to enjoy Italian coffee (beyond ordering a doppio). One memorable café topped its coffees with fruit powder-infused whipped cream. They were listed under a section on the menu appropriately named "caffe della gioia" (yes, "joy coffee"). These joyful mugs are topped with a generous mountain of whipped cream that can be folded with fruit- or nut powders, like pomegranate, pistachio, orange, wild berries, and aniseed.

Historically speaking, an osteria was a spartan, no-frills establishment where people would go to have a drink. The original osterias date all the way back to the Roman Empire. If you go to Ostia Antica or Pompeii, you find the osterias of the era. They were like bed-and-breakfasts, with rooms for rent above the dining room where people could listen to music.

Stroll into nearly any Italian restaurant in the country and you'll likely get a glimpse at a row of oddly shaped bottles sitting in the oft-forgotten back bar. Those bottles contain grappa, a spirited sip most often enjoyed after a lengthy dinner when belts start feeling tight, when diners recline in their seats taking lazy last bites of half-eaten desserts.

The drinks scene here has undergone something of a Renaissance, with the number and variety of options across the city blossoming. Of course, there are still the old school stalwarts that adhere to the traditional Italian idea of a bar-envision the quintessential all-day café-bar where you might stand at the counter for a cappuccino in the morning, grab a quick panino at lunchtime, or linger over an aperitivo after work.

One trend I'd happily see fade away in 2026 is the obsession with overly complicated, garnish-heavy cocktails that prioritize spectacle over balance. There's nothing wrong with a drink that looks beautiful, but when the garnish becomes the entire point of the drink, it often means the cocktail itself is an afterthought.

Used to strain ice and other ingredients out of shaken cocktails, a Hawthorne strainer is a small, flat, spoon-like gadget with holes plus a coiled spring around the edge. You simply fit it over the rim of a glass or shaker tin before pouring liquids through. It's essential for cleanly separating the cocktail from the ice without spilling or creating a mess during the pour.

What goes into the ideal Italian cocktail, as a result, is as much about sociability and presentation as it is about a specific flavor profile or provenance of ingredients. It isn't just a drink, it's a way of life. As soulful as a Puccini-penned opera. As colorful and exuberant as a summer sunset over the Amalfi Coast. Equally as expressive regardless of time or season.

I prefer frozen for blended drinks like daiquiris and margaritas; they add chill and texture without watering down the flavor. Fresh berries are better for drinks that are muddled.

just before we collectively stumbled into this shitty timeline marred by "fake news" and idiot fascism, a journalist did that thing that journalism used to do: hold power to account. In this case, the power was Big Bay Leaf, and the reporter was Kelly Conaboy, writing for the Awl on a "vast bay leaf conspiracy" that-then as now-cons well-meaning home cooks into buying weird leaves that taste and smell like "nothing."