Milan - Camparino
Just a stone's throw from Milan's Duomo, right on the corner of the entrance to the Galleria (Milan's rather spectacular antidote to the soul crushing blandness of Westfield and the like), is the Camparino. There seems to have been some back and forth with the name of this place. At some point in the distant past it had, I believe, originally been called the Camparino. Then, in 1996, when Milan's famous aperitif was rather in decline, it was renamed to Zucca. Spurred on by the global revival of the Campari brand in recent years, in 2012 it went back to being the Camparino once again.
Although clothing brands often have a "flagship store", this isn't yet a phenomenon which has become common for drinks. I for one rather like the idea though. Followers of the cult of Negroni should, of course, make their initial pilgrimage to Florence, but subsequently coming here to pay homage to arguably the most important ingredient seems very fitting.
As has become a well established theme when covering grand caffes on this blog, it adheres to standard formula of being a bit of a tourist magnet, but, as always, there is a bar counter which allows the committed to circumvent all that unpleasantness of table service, and having to be surrounded by tourists, many of whom aren't even drinking Campari. Like Rivoire et al in Florence it's one of those places where, if ordering at the bar, you need to first go the cashier, pay, then hand the receipt to the barman who will make your drink for you. That seems to be a regional thing, fairly standard in Lombardy and Tuscany, but not generally the case in the Veneto, in my experience.
I was here with my friend Lorenzo, who was working in Milan for the day, and had also accompanied me on the epic Negroni crawl in Florence. So without really giving it any thought, we ordered Negronis here too.
Yes, rather a lot of Campari branding there, just in case you had momentarily forgotten where you were. They used a gin I hadn't seen before (alas I forgot the name, something beginning with a B), and for the vermouth a slightly unusual choice of Cinzano Rosso. I may have course have been influenced by the overt Campari branding everywhere I looked, but the result was a very "Campari forward" Negroni, in my opinion. I haven't tried Cinzano Rosso in a Negroni before, but assume it's not a very strongly flavoured vermouth, and gin certainly wasn't packing much of a punch, so this Negroni really did seem to be all about the Campari. Which is probably as it should be, given the location.
The bar has a grand and impressive interior, some basic snacks were laid on for free, and yet a Negroni, if you're standing, cost a mere 7 or 8 Euros. The staff weren't particularly talkative, in fact were a bit on the gruff side, and I didn't really feel inclined to linger here for a long time, but as a brief port of call to pay respects to St. Campari I rather enjoyed it.
3 litre bottle of Campari, anyone?
As has become a well established theme when covering grand caffes on this blog, it adheres to standard formula of being a bit of a tourist magnet, but, as always, there is a bar counter which allows the committed to circumvent all that unpleasantness of table service, and having to be surrounded by tourists, many of whom aren't even drinking Campari. Like Rivoire et al in Florence it's one of those places where, if ordering at the bar, you need to first go the cashier, pay, then hand the receipt to the barman who will make your drink for you. That seems to be a regional thing, fairly standard in Lombardy and Tuscany, but not generally the case in the Veneto, in my experience.
I was here with my friend Lorenzo, who was working in Milan for the day, and had also accompanied me on the epic Negroni crawl in Florence. So without really giving it any thought, we ordered Negronis here too.
Yes, rather a lot of Campari branding there, just in case you had momentarily forgotten where you were. They used a gin I hadn't seen before (alas I forgot the name, something beginning with a B), and for the vermouth a slightly unusual choice of Cinzano Rosso. I may have course have been influenced by the overt Campari branding everywhere I looked, but the result was a very "Campari forward" Negroni, in my opinion. I haven't tried Cinzano Rosso in a Negroni before, but assume it's not a very strongly flavoured vermouth, and gin certainly wasn't packing much of a punch, so this Negroni really did seem to be all about the Campari. Which is probably as it should be, given the location.
The bar has a grand and impressive interior, some basic snacks were laid on for free, and yet a Negroni, if you're standing, cost a mere 7 or 8 Euros. The staff weren't particularly talkative, in fact were a bit on the gruff side, and I didn't really feel inclined to linger here for a long time, but as a brief port of call to pay respects to St. Campari I rather enjoyed it.
3 litre bottle of Campari, anyone?
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