This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license.
Its orange, sparkling and bitter hues remind some of an Italian sunset in a glass. Aperol spritz, the cocktail that dots terraces with the passing of the summer, hails from the Veneto region of northern Italy, where it has been drunk since the first half of the 19th century. Born under the influence of the Austrian Empire—hence the sound of its name—it has been back in fashion since 2010, thanks to a marketing coup. If the spritz appeals to so many palates, it’s because it at once manages to combine the chic and the simple, the fun and the sophisticated, the retro and the modern, along with the bitter and the sweet.
A Whole World in a Glass
Any emblematic aperitif comes with its host of images and accessories. For many a European, the hour of the “apero” conjures up a set of carefully crafted rituals. Time, within this enchanted interlude, bends and softens. How could a French person possibly think of anisette, for example, without visualizing a certain type of glass and a zinc table under a glaring sun, the whole set to the song of the cicadas? You find yourself immediately transported to the sleepy Provincial villages of the novels of Marcel Pagnol.
The taste of Champagne, by contrast, evokes a world of elegance, celebration and exception. The oblong flutes in which it is traditionally poured sublimate its light sand color with chic undertones. To each drink its atmosphere: the Beaujolais wine brings up the full glass, the checkered tablecloth and sausages, and the music of French singer-writer Charles Trenet. The spritz, on the other hand, inevitably evokes a sunset in Italy, a sweet pop song and the start of the holidays. One thinks of Dean Martin or Domenico Modugno crooning “Volare” (“Volare, oh, oh; Cantare, oh, oh, oh, oh”), or the flourish of mandolin in Elvis Presley’s “It’s Now or Never”, originally inspired by the bel canto of “O Sole Mio”.
You would be forgiven for viewing the above as nothing more than product placement. However, these representations are a central part of our consumer rituals. We take them up without even thinking about it, re-enacting them more or less consciously.
Exoticism at Every Level
The spritz that propels us on holiday promises kitsch-tainted exoticism. It stems from the drink’s trans-alpine ancestry, of course, but also from the name’s strangeness—several pronunciations are possible depending on the degree of alcohol in the blood, perhaps. The cocktail invites us to take a trip back in time, to the land of nostalgia. Its flashy orange color recalls the distinctive design of the 1960s and 1970s, conjuring up a reassuringly retro world—picnic coolers, yogurt makers, 1970s Formica tables and even grandma’s wallpaper.
The bitter taste is also exotic, so typically Italian—think coffee, chicory, green olive oil—and at the same time conveys a form of social distinction: liking bitter is more original than liking sweet! Sweet is unctuous and emollient, whereas bitter surprises and stimulates the senses.
A Moment of Conviviality
Above all, a spritz invites us to savor the moment, by appealing to all our senses. There’s the color, the transparency. But there’s also the sense of touch, through the oversized glass cradled within the palm of the hand, the straw that you play with, sip through, even chew on as you chat lightly. The tinkling ice cubes even give the cocktail a sound identity. Finally, the word itself seems to sparkle, anticipating the pleasure associated with tasting it as you say it.
While the drink is best enjoyed with friends, preferably at leisure—the glass tends to be big and full—it’s not uncommon for it to do the rounds on social networks: known for its inclination toward colorful, cheerful shots, Instagram now counts almost two million images tagged #spritz—a figure that should continue to rise with the summer temperatures.
Another great thing about a spritz is its capacity for igniting small talk. Everyone has their bit to say about the cocktail: too much water, too sweet, too much prosecco, not enough bitterness. Lightness, the spirit of the terraces, the sun playing with the leaves and the parasol, the breeze stroking your cheek? Holidays are well and truly underway.
Pascal Lardellier, Professeur à l'Université de Bourgogne Franche-Comté, Chercheur au laboratoire CIMEOS, Université de Bourgogne – UBFC
Sonia Zannad, Cheffe de rubrique Culture, The Conversation France
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
