Pictured: a mostly unobjectionable cocktail. Photo : macarosha ( iStock ) Yesterday, The New York Times ran an absolutely incendiary piece of writing, one that’s tearing the internet apart, pitting friend against friend. It’s also giving a brand loads of free publicity, most of it good. I write, of course, of the great Aperol Spritz Wars of 2019. Advertisement The Times piece is a really strange takedown of a totally acceptable cocktail, which, if you’re unfamiliar, includes Aperol (an aperitif) and prosecco, with a little soda water and an orange slice, served over ice (roughly in a 3:2:1 ratio). If you like a little bitterness in your bubbly, summery cocktails, you’d probably like this one; if you don’t, you probably wouldn’t. The NYT chooses to dunk on a cocktail, and it’s this one? As my colleague Kate Bernot put it, this is like picking the quietest, most mild-mannered kid in class, standing on your desk, and shouting “That guy is an asshole!” Rebekah Peppler’s objections are many. Aperol itself “skews saccharine;” the prosecco is “low-quality;” the glasses “jumbo” and “branded;” the orange slice “outsize.” Also, the ice melts! Quelle horreur! We will return to some of these points in a moment, but suffice it to say that she really does not care for this beverage, nor do some of the people she quotes. Many others will—and have—written spirited defenses of this particular drink, but I’m not here to do that. I am here to tell you that it’s fine. Perfectly acceptable. Not gross. Not extraordinary. It’s an opinion shared, according to the Washington Post, by the author of the recent book Apéritif, one Rebekah Peppler. We agree with previous timeline Rebekah Peppler: It is a completely okay cocktail. There are loads of drinks in this category—stuff that’s not mind-blowing, but not unbearable, either. It’s the kind of thing one passes on because it’s not for them, not because it’s disgusting. It’s too middle-of-the-road to be so objectionable. And so we at The Takeout are declaring it our passable drink of the summer. The Aperol Spritz: Just Okay! That said, as is often the case, I have some questions. The opening lede of this sucker is so baffling to me that I seriously considered focusing in on it and only it: “It’s late spring, 6 p.m. Golden hour is nigh. It’s too late for lemonade, too early for whiskey — spritz time on the dot.” I’m sorry, too late for lemonade and too early for whiskey? Did Emily Post write about this and I missed it? Rest assured that it is never too late for lemonade, and only too early for whiskey if you think to yourself, “I do not yet feel like drinking whiskey.” Also, bourbon is really good in a Bloody Mary, so there’s that. I’m sorry, I’m still not over this. If 6 p.m. is both too late for lemonade and too early for whiskey, when in the everloving world are you supposed to drink whiskey lemonades? Peppler goes on to describe qualities she “can get behind”: “It’s effervescent, it’s extremely well iced and it is a shade of orange that rivals a ‘Planet Earth’ sunset.” Well iced? Well iced? What if it’s only kind of adequately iced? One of Peppler’s sources goes on to say that unless served immediately, “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.” So... not well iced? About the “branded, jumbo wine glasses”: You know you could just use another glass, right? About the “low-quality prosecco”: You know you could just use better prosecco, right? What is an outsize orange? Or is it the slice that’s too big? If the slice, you know you could just cut them smaller, right? The argument here would be that bartenders are making these mistakes, in which case that’s just a badly made cocktail, right? Not a bad one? Did no one ask any of these questions? I have two closing thoughts. First, ultimately, Peppler is arguing that the spritz is a drink one can easily make at home; the default need not be Aperol, nor must it be made in a bar (where, presumably, they might have some jumbo branded wine glasses). That, I can support. But she closes the piece with this: If you’re making them at home, know that spritzes are zero-intimidation cocktails — easy to make, easier still to drink. Forgo any tools besides the jigger; spritzes are built in the glass, and the garnish can do the mixing as it drops into the drink. As we enter high spritz season, start with the following recipes, then make up your own. That’s the point isn’t it? To think, and drink, for yourself. Advertisement Isn’t that spirit contrary to the rest of her argument? If we’re meant “to think, and drink” for ourselves, then why write off this one aperitif in particular? I heartily concur that you like what you like, and you should experiment within the realm of what you like, creating your own new favorite recipes along the way. It’s why I own a bar cart, and why you should consider one, too. I can’t think of a worse way to make that argument than by beginning it with “That thing you like is actually garbage, xoxoxo.” And last, there’s this line: ...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. Advertisement Emphasis mine. Two things: First, often our most memorable culinary experiences are enhanced by mood, physical state, location, and any number of external factors. Having consumed a Capri Sun after soccer practice on a hot day, I can tell you that it is a deeply satisfying experience, because it is hot, and you are at soccer practice, and it is a Capri Sun. Second, there are only two bad ways to drink a Capri Sun: Warm, and through a hole you had to bite open because you lost the little straw. Advertisement<doc-sep>The New York Times has declared the Aperol spritz a bad drink. And boy, are spritz lovers mad. The annoying thing about “The Aperol Spritz Is Not a Good Drink,” which has succeeded wildly in riling up fans of the aperitif, is that the headline fails to communicate that the article isn’t so much about hating Aperol as it is about loving a more complex spritz made with subtler spirits. It’s offering up the same solid and fairly obvious advice you hear about cooking with wine—crappy wine makes whatever you add it to taste…not great. Sure, low-quality prosecco can ruin an Aperol spritz. But not because the drink itself is flawed. So what? It’s just a drink, right? The spritz isn’t so much a drink as a lovely and gracious idea about drinking, and the Aperol version is the perfect introduction. It’s a gateway cocktail. A spritz is any combination of wine, sparkling water, and bitter spirit, most often an Italian amaro, served over ice. It’s low proof, for the leisurely kind of drinking that happens on long summer evenings or at afternoon barbecues. They’re not just delicious and refreshing, they’re also low enough in alcohol that you can keep drinking for a long time without getting wasted. A spritz is the essence of conviviality. An Aperol spritz is an easygoing drink. The summer sunset color is inviting. It’s not overly bitter. Some amari are incredibly bitter, and even Campari, another popular Italian spritz spirit that is quite sweet comparatively speaking, has a very divisive flavor. There’s a place within the spritz culture for a broadly appealing cocktail—it doesn’t all have to be tongue-numbingly bitter to be worth drinking. If you do want to branch out There’s a whole world of spritzes to enjoy, using interesting amari from all over Italy, and swapping out prosecco for other sparkling or still wines. I like to make a very basic, very fast and loose rosé spritz by filling a glass with ice, pouring in equal amounts of rosé and seltzer, then adding a lemon twist and about four shakes of bitters. A half ounce of amaro of any kind would add complexity (it’s perfectly refreshing without, too). If you want to dive deeper into the world of casual, grown-up drinking, I highly recommend Spritz by Talia Baiocchio and Leslie Pariseau. It’s a whole book that explores the Italian tradition of having a bubbly, bitter, bright drink in the early evening with some salty snacks to pique the appetite before dinner—and make a moment for sparkling conversation.<doc-sep>Another source of consternation for Peppler seems to be the hashtagged (#spritzlife) social media stylings that have proliferated around the Aperol Spritz. After all, would the disdain for rosé be as powerful without the ubiquitous #roseallday? As Peppler notes, the attention surrounding the Aperol Spritz may be in no small part due to an aggressive campaign by Campari America, the makers of Aperol. That campaign was somewhat more generously documented in a piece published by the Times in 2018 — what a difference a year makes! Included in that piece was the statistic that sales of Aperol rose almost 50 percent between 2017 and 2018.<doc-sep>Global warming, political crises and the most recent "Game of Thrones" episode all took a back seat in sparking online outrage this Thursday night. To – wait for it – Aperol Spritzes. Indeed, this little drink, made of Prosecco, club soda, Aperol and an orange slice, has been causing quite a commotion, prompted by a New York Times story by the James Beard Award-nominated Rebekah Peppler headlined “The Aperol Spritz Is Not a Good Drink.” In the column, she claimed the Aperol Spritz is “something that drinks like a Capri Sun after soccer practice on a hot day. Not in a good way.” Who knew this would be one of the Times’ most divisive columns of the year? The story got 4,000 reactions on Facebook and more than 3,000 comments – and counting. Wrote one affronted commenter: “And now another example of how an Italian Great has been reduced to a 'one size fits all measure' by the Americans. If you make something incorrectly it is obvious that it won't taste as good. Enjoy your spaghetti meatballs." “I really respect the passion with which this was written,” commented another. It even prompted Grub Street to write its own counterattack: an article headlined “Entire Internet Agrees Aperol Spritz Is, in Fact, Good.” Lauren Tarzian, mixologist at Somos in North Arlington, New Jersey, said she never understood the appeal of Aperol, until she got creative with the liquor, using it in cocktails besides the Aperol Spritz. “You can mix it with so many things: Prosecco, Italian sparkling wine, club soda. When you’re doing something with that bitter Aperol, you need other dry tastes,” she said. “That’s where you get that nice balance of the bubbly.” The debate rages on on Twitter. Nigella Lawson weighed in: “Why would anyone have a Tizer-like Aperol Spritz when you could have a Campari Soda or even an Americano?” The publication Food & Wine took to Twitter to announce, “Team Aperol Spritz forever.” Apparently, opinions on Aperol Spritzes were the hidden land mines of the dining landscape just waiting to explode – until Peppler unknowingly wandered onto their path. After all, what’s wrong with a Capri Sun on a hot day?<doc-sep>
The New York Times is right. Aperol spritzes aren’t particularly great. But before you “cancel” me, I’d ask: Is that really the point of them? If you’ve been sequestered for grand jury duty or something and missed it, on Thursday an internet hullabaloo erupted when Rebekah Peppler wrote in the NYT that “The Aperol Spritz Is Not a Good Drink,” comparing it to a Capri Sun. Twitter exploded, “dunking” on the Paris-based writer, with everyone sharing their unyielding love for the Aperol Spritz and their hatred for Peppler’s dumb opinion. “Aperol Spritz” trended with over 3,000 mentions during the day. Eventually, Grub Street declared that “Entire Internet Agrees Aperol Spritz Is, in Fact, Good.” Well, I don’t agree. Yeah, it’s good sometimes, but not always. The spritz is a simple drink, which means that every component matters. An apéritif, it’s typically made with a bitter liqueur base topped with sparkling wine and fizzy water over ice. If any of those ingredients are low-quality, your cocktail is going to be as well. The problem begins with Aperol, one of the least complex amari—too sweet, hardly bitter, not boozy at all. Likewise, most places and people that make spritzes use dirt-cheap prosecco—you’ll have a hangover before you’re even drunk. And, you know what? That’s fine. I hesitate to say this as a booze writer and critic, but: Since when does every food and drink on planet earth need to be fucking world class? Aperol Spritzes in Milan in front of the Duomo Cathedral. RossHelen Getty Images On a recent trip to Rome this past December, I wasn’t pounding Aperol Spritzes every day because they were amazing. I was drinking them because it was two o'clock in the afternoon and I was with my wife in the third most romantic city on earth and I had no work to do and nothing to worry about and it was warm enough to sit outside while Vespas zipped by us and Romans chain-smoked and they only cost €4 apiece. In Italy, an Aperol Spritz is an ice-cold Bud at the ballgame. It's a Guinness at a Dublin pub. You’re not sitting there closely analyzing these drinks—“I detect some mocha notes”—you’re using them to supplement your life, to relax in the sun while rooting on your team, to pound pints with the boys and have a laugh. As my wife always says to me when I’m geeking out over some exotic cocktail while completely ignoring her: “Can we talk about something besides your stupid drink?” This is especially true in Italy, whose Aperol Spritzes really aren’t that great—often made using trash ice worse than what you’d get from a Ramada Inn hallway ice machine, and with prosecco you wouldn’t dump in orange juice. The drink is quotidian, and that’s intentional, meant for nothing more than adding a little boost of pleasure to your current situation. I once ranked it the second-best overall “day-drinking” drink around. So, I presume, when people are saying that Aperol Spritzes are “good,” they are more saying that spritz culture is good. That the friendship and conversation and mere whiling away of an afternoon over a round of spritzes is good. Just look at the much-mocked #spritzlife hashtag on Instagram—wouldn’t you rather be there right now than where you currently are? It's not like you'd ever drink a spritz by yourself at midnight while sitting in the dark and bingeing that Ted Bundy documentary. As for taste, the Aperol Spritz is a perfectly fine “gateway” spritz and, for most people, a great introduction to the category of amari. If you want a spritz that will truly knock your socks off, order one with the artichoke-based Cynar, the piney Braulio, or even a cool American amaro like St. Agresis. Use quality ice and a good sparkling wine. You can go even further with a spritz. The amazing Dante in New York offers an entire spritz menu, featuring elevated takes on the drink like one made with Hendrick’s gin, elderflower liqueur, cucumber purée, lemon, and maldon salt. Or, my favorite, the intriguing “Il Peperino,” a mix of Martini Bitter, manzanilla sherry, mezcal, a red bell pepper tincture, and prosecco. It’s hard to wrap your head around the flavor profile, fluctuating between bitter and smoky, floral with a lovely little bit of nuttiness, the bubbles tickling your throat before the pepper slightly stings your esophagus.