Joe Wadsack has some traditional and delicious Spritzes to spritz up continue the summary vibes as we edge into autumn.
Spritzes continue to be gigantically popular among pub and bar-goers, I discovered while hosting masterclasses at food festivals up and down the country this summer. Despite presenting some quite delicious and not inexpensive English sparkling wines and another nation’s favourite, premium French rosés from Provence, the most popular and over-subscribed sessions proved to be ones where I showcased how to make a good Aperol Spritz and, even more popular (as it turned out), the Hugo Spritz.
Clearly there is still open road and opportunity in this category, so what can we do to breathe fresh life into it? Well, travelling along the north of Italy, going east to west, or south to north into the Alps, will demonstrate immediately that local Spritz culture varies, perhaps in a very small way, from one town or city to another, but they do each have their own way of doing things.
Having experienced several summer trips to Venice with my art historian wife, we prefer to stay on the Lido, that 10-mile stretch of perfect beach that barricades the main island and its lagoon. Drinks are better, cheaper and the Aperol Spritzes are made, as I discovered, in a strikingly different way.
Seeing as this is where the drink evolved, I thought it worth mentioning for authenticity. First, the soda, the Aperol and the Prosecco all appear from a freezing-cold drawer chiller, the glass from another frosty refrigerated cabinet and the drink is combined. Heaven forbid that you actually put ice in the glass. “Why”, said one bartender, “would you put ice in sparkling wine? It goes fl at. It is supposed to be a Spritz. I blame the Americans and their ice obsession.” One faux pas avoided.
The second, which I think makes a sublime difference, is the ubiquitous use of a thick half-wheel of orange wrapped around a large green olive skewered on to a stirring stick as garnish. I know some people hate olives, but then they are probably not Italian and I imagine are likely to be fussy about bitter drinks anyway. Simply stirring the drink with olive and orange adds a fractional layer of brine and orangey oil on the surface, which massively enhances the flavour of the drink: a tiny tweak of umami in every sip. Then you get to scoff the olive and orange (rind and all), along with a big, fizzy, chilled gulp of perfect Spritz. Yum! In my view this is how it’s done and something has been lost in translation over the years.
World alternatives
If you are intent on having ice in your drink, I recommend using local Veneto white wine, in particular Soave, instead of Prosecco. It tastes better. Don’t forget the soda Which other similar drinks around the world might we consider on a Spritz menu that extends beyond Italy, for instance? The first that comes to my mind is the Bordeaux Spritz, a drink popularised by the legendary La Tupina restaurant, where the house cocktail used to be a delicious mix of Lillet Rosé, a large splash of young, vibrant claret and Crémant de Bordeaux (the local fizz), garnished with fresh slices of strawberries from the nearby market. Lillet, in all its forms, red, white or rosé, makes a delicious complex Spritz, even if just mixed with club soda and an orange garnish (a common approach in Bordeaux).
Perhaps even tastier still is the Burgundy Spritz, which is a classic Kir Royale made from top-quality Créme de Cassis (I have always liked Briottet) and Crémant de Bourgogne, lengthened with some ice cubes and soda water to taste, then garnished with a sprig of thyme.
It would also be churlish not to mention Spain’s huge contribution to this category. In Córdoba back in the 1920s, in a country making very little white wine at the time, some bright spark decided to blend a young red with the local citrus soda La Casera (far less sweet than Sprite, and more naturally lemony) over ice and slice of lemon. Tinto de Verano (or Summer Red) was born. A little addition of one of Spain’s many vermuts adds huge complexity to this summer staple. This later spawned Picasso’s beloved Kalimotxo, swapping out the lemonade for cola and a slice of orange. The Basque pre-dinner drink.
And finally, this list isn’t complete without the rather more sophisticated El Rebujito, a gorgeous combination of fino sherry and La Casera lemon soda, served over loads of ice with a sprig of mint. The dry sherry gives this refreshing drink a wonderful saline tension and layers of subtle flavours, perfectly in tune with the lemon flavour. Like so many traditional combinations, it’s a Spritz that hits.