Right off the bat, I have to admit something. I’m an old-fashioned, dyed-in-the-wool bandwagon jumper. Show me a trend and I’ll leap out in front of it, like a despondent hipster throwing himself under a bus. Well, in point of fact, it’s more like jumping after it, grabbing for the coattails and hoping like hell no-one notices that I’m late to the party, as usual.
This time is no different, and in this case involves a particular cocktail I’d never heard of. Considering myself a “well-drunk” individual – an asthete of the drink, if you will – I was shocked to learn that I had been in the dark. I owe at least the first stirrings of awareness to a thread I recently came across; and in the most unlikely of places, although the forums there are one of my current favorites for idle browsing. As every journey must start with a single step, so began my education on Fernet-Branca.
Turning at first to Wikipedia, as per my usual, I discovered that it sounds – at least superficially – much like the bitters I’ve learned to add to certain cocktails in order to enhance them, or rather, bring their preparation more into line with tradition. A good example of this would be the classic Manhattan Cocktail, for some time my “go-to” evening quaff. So the nature of a liqueur like Fernet was not unknown to me; however, the thought of actually building a drink around such a potion – rather than, say, judiciously adding a few dashes into the shaker – was beyond me, to say the least. A mystical concoction of herbs, spices, and other ingredients – ranging from the mysterious to the wildly speculative – this apertif has a 100+ year history and apparently enough mythic power to enthrall entire urban subcultures. Witness the phenomenon in both Argentina, the home of “Fernet con Coca” – a drink so beloved that a song was written for it – and San Francisco, the latter of which (according to Wikipedia) now consumes more Fernet-Branca per capita than any other locale in the world. From the SF Weekly article:
When you hold a shot glass of Fernet-Branca to your nose, the first thing that strikes you is the physicality of the smell, which, if such a thing existed, is like black licorice-flavored Listerine…If you can imagine getting punched squarely in the nose while sucking on a mentholated cough drop, you’ll have an idea of Fernet-Branca’s indelicate first impressions.
Why anyone would subject themselves to a gastrointestinal assault like this was, at first, completely lost on me. But that was precisely the reason why it seemed so mythical; embracing the entire spectrum of impressions, the reactions of folks who have tried it run the gamut from “…bartender’s cure” to “I thought I was going to die.” In the end, though, even the most timorous teetotaler – a “Fergin,” according to SF Weekly – seems to become a Fernetaholic after a drink – or three.
So I simply had to try it. And as it turns out, what they say is right on the money. After an initial impression that mixed a heady anise aroma with a miasma of spices that was much like the metallic tones of, oh, say, a bloody nose, I was hooked. For despite the unappetizing – and honestly revolting – initial shock, the very next sip was completely different, and very much more this side of pleasant. So this experience:
It’s terrible at first, but in five minutes — it’s amazing — you’ll feel a whole lot better. Then it’s time for another one.
…is probably not unusual. But, I thought, there must be something about the kind of folks who come to love this bitter pill so quickly; what’s more, they come to this denouement after but one sip. And then I read in the SF Weekly article something that put it all into perspective:
It’s an acquired taste first and foremost, like coffee or wine…
Well, that explains it; in my case, then, especially given my predilection for the other vices mentioned above, I’m utterly doomed. And in the interest of full disclosure, I’m on my second Fernet and Coke. Cheers.
