The Bitter Miracle - The Beginning...

Written by Matthew Sullivan | 21 January 2010

This bitter drink has its origins in the Middle Ages, when it was common to preserve herbal remedies in wine or spirits. Spices from the east and sugar (which was a rare luxury at the time) were seen as potent ingredients with life-saving properties. Well-educated monks were particularly adept at brewing these tonics, part of the proud tradition which has also given the world Benedictine, Chartreuse and Frangelico. Although these elixirs were supposed to be purely medicinal, they had their recreational side too. By the 14th century, spiced liquor and wine were used not only to aid digestion, but also as aphrodisiacs.

In the 19th and early 20th centuries, amaro moved from the monasteries to the pharmacies and apothecaries of Italy, where miracle tonics were big business. Like pharmaceutical companies today, these druggists shrouded their recipes in obsessive secrecy. For example, Fernet Branca was invented by a Milanese herbalist named Bernardino Branca in the 1840s, and since that time the complete recipe of 40 herbs and spices has never been revealed. But it is known to contain rhubarb, tree bark, myrrh, chamomile, cardamom, aloe and saffron. Originally, they marketed this brew as a cure for menstrual pains.

These herbs were blended for medical efficacy, not for pleasure. I will not mince words: Fernet Branca is nasty. It tastes like the gummy paste you find between an old sneaker and its partially-detached rubber sole. As writer Nate Cavalieri memorably put it, drinking it is like being, “punched squarely in the nose while sucking on a mentholated cough drop.” The first time I tried it, I nearly spit it out. But in time you will come to tolerate its unique flavour when you begin to associate it with the opiate-like relief it brings. After a while, it tastes like Brio.

As a matter of fact, some go mad for its flavours. As a fossil from Prohibition days (when Fernet Branca was legal to sell as a medicine), it is still popular in San Francisco’s nightclubs. It is usually drunk in shots with a chaser of ginger ale. In New York City, Fernet Branca has established itself as the drink of choice for off-duty bartenders and waiters — partially because it is revivifying, but also because an ability to stomach it signifies that you are an insider. But this is nothing compared with Argentina, where Fernet Branca (mixed with Coke) has the status of a national beverage — sales there exceed 12 million litres a year. That’s about the same amount of annual sales for Ontario’s VQA wines.

However, if Fernet Branca is too vicious for your palate, there are plenty of other amari with more sweetening and less pain: Amaro Lucano, Averno and, my personal favourite, Amaro Montenegro. All of these began as family businesses based around secret recipes formulated in the 19th century.  These medium amari are complex and aromatic, and acquit themselves well on their own or in a mixed drink.

Traditionally, amari are drunk neat out of a tall glass after dinner with coffee. Unlike most digestifs, they actually settle the stomach instead of merely queuing up a hangover. The custom used to be to take amaro before the coffee course, but recently it is used more and more often as an ammazzacaffè or coffee killer: a chaser that washes away coffee’s aftertaste. That’s all well and good, but it’s difficult to guess what is supposed to wash away the strong aftertaste of the bitters. A catastrophic head injury?

In any case, amaro also makes an excellent aperitif if shaken with soda water and ice. Amaro Montenegro is particularly good when mixed with San Pellegrino — the result is a refreshing fizz that tastes like an authentic root beer without any cloying sucrose.

Amaro is also becoming a popular ingredient in mixes — at least among those of us who can no longer stand the alcoholic Slurpees that are passed off as cocktails. The bite of bitters gives a drink complexity and substance. I am fond of mixologist Stevi Deter’s recipe for the Santo Spirito: 2 oz of dry gin, 1 oz of Averna Amaro, and 1/2 oz of lemon juice strained into a champagne flute with Prosecco to top. This recipe highlights the profile of the Averna, but renders it into a more approachable form for those who have not developed a taste for unvarnished bitters. It’s not unlike a very, very dirty martini.

There may be a promising future for amaro in North American cocktails, but for me, their first place will always be as a cure for hangovers and upset stomachs. I believe in holistic medicine and my credo is simple: let booze be thy medicine and medicine be thy booze.