Talk Negroni To Me
by Ace Cruz
Unpretentious, Refined Cocktail Architecture
I was 26 when I discovered my favourite cocktail: the Negroni. My drinking life had been plain and predictable—just a pour of Coke or tonic water, a handful of ice, and a double shot of gin or vodka. The night would be filled with the sparkles and shimmers of a beautiful life, and that was it. Simple.
Then, one Wednesday night, my colleagues and I headed to a pub for a “hump day” toast; a speakeasy called Bank Bar, hidden behind a 7-Eleven in Bonifacio Global City. The place was a moody, cinematic haven with warm red and amber lighting, plush velvet seating, and intimate candlelit tables. It felt like a hidden luxury lounge inside a vintage bank vault—dark, cozy, and deliberately atmospheric. To me, it felt like home; a safe space to be carefree.
That night, I decided to change my lifestyle—not to veer away from drinking, but to level it up a thousand notches. I would drink a craft cocktail! I scanned the menu filled with names my younger, boring self couldn’t even pronounce. Then, voila—I found a basic, Filipino/Spanish-sounding term my tongue could easily roll out. It was—drum roll, please—the Negroni.
Ordering it wasn’t comfortable, though. To my ears, the name sounded controversial, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t sound offensive. Because of the phonetic similarity to a derogatory term, I was terrified that someone unfamiliar with the drink might think I was using a slur. I waited for my colleagues to order first. Their choices were:
- French Lady: London Dry Gin, Anise Liqueur, Orgeat, and Lemon Thyme.
- Truffled Whiskey Sour: Triple Distilled Irish Whiskey, Lemon, Egg Foam, and White Truffle Oil.
- Nanashi: Rye Vodka, Yuzu, Soda, and Lemon Peel.
I thought, “Great, they got the basics too, just with a cute twist.” Then my turn came. The waiter asked what I was interested in, and I softly whispered, “Negroni.” It was so quiet that even an ant couldn’t have heard it. The waiter leaned in: “Sorry, say it again?”
I looked around the pub, knowing I had to raise my voice but wanting to ensure no one was offended. I cleared my throat, pretending I knew exactly what I was doing. “Just a glass of Negro…ni…please.” My colleagues burst out laughing; they knew I was uncomfortable with the word’s perceived political nuance. One colleague corrected me: “You don’t have to put the stress on the first syllable. It’s on the second—pronounced neh-GROH-nee.” It was humiliating, but hey, I learned something that night.
The Night I Had My First Sip of Bitterness
After placing the orders, we tucked ourselves into a corner.The atmosphere was elite: house music filled the room while abstract, colourful art was projection-mapped into the arches, turning the walls into a high-vibe digital gallery.
When the drinks arrived, my colleagues’ cocktails were aesthetic—completely Instagram-worthy—while mine looked a bit plain and boring, much like myself. I worried I wasn’t lucky and that the humiliation hadn’t been worth it.
We had our toast, took some snaps, and then—the sip. I waited for them to try theirs first, hoping someone would regret their order just to make me feel better. But everyone was happy. So, I took my sip.
My mind was blown by the goddess of bitterness. It was insanely, bitterly, supercalifragilistically delicious. Where had this drink been all my life? I checked the menu again for the ingredients:
Negroni: Campari, London Dry Gin, & Vermouth di Torino. Served down on a large ice cube.
At the time, I was only familiar with gin. I wasn’t much of a “Google guy” back then, but I was so curious about how this piece of craftsmanship was created. That one glass turned into several more. I couldn’t get enough. Every sip felt like a hug and a kiss down my throat—bitter, yet incredibly refreshing. It became my statement cocktail.
A Negroni is no “kid’s drink.” It is a glass of sophistication with a bittersweet kiss—a symbol of true, unpretentious class. The more bitter, the better.
Finding the Perfect Pour
My thirst for this majestic cocktail grew, and it became a “must-check” on every menu to see who concocted it best. I’ve sampled them across the Philippines, Singapore, Hong Kong, Canada, and more. In Toronto, there are several gastropubs that serve a solid Negroni. Notable mixes can be found at Ruby Soho and Bar Raval, but my absolute favouritesfavorites are Clockwork Champagne & Cocktails and the Writers Room Bar; both were able to adjust the bitterness exactly to my preference.
But place and time shouldn’t be a hindrance to enjoying a Negroniglass. It should be a staple in every bar and every household—including mine. A Negroni is actually quite easy to prepare. It follows a classic 1:1:1 ratio, though you should feel free to adjust it to your taste:
- 30ml Gin: While a London Dry Gin provides the sturdier architecture of a traditional, high-brow Negroni, I personally lean toward the refreshing, modern notes of Hendrick’s. Its subtle infusion of cucumber and rose softens the blow of the Campari, making the bitterness feel a little more intentional and a lot more elite.
- 30ml Campari: This is the soul of the drink, providing that bittersweet profile and vibrant red color.
- 30ml Sweet Vermouth: For a traditional style, go for Vermouth di Torino to add a rich, herbal sweetness.
Prepare for Perfection:
- Stir: Add all ingredients into a mixing glass with plenty of ice. Stir for about 20–30 seconds to chill the drink and achieve the perfect dilution.
- Strain: Pour into a chilled Rocks glass (Old Fashioned glass) over one large, clear ice cube.
- Garnish: Use an orange peel or a slice of dried orange. If using a fresh peel, express the oils over the glass and rub it along the rim before dropping it in. That citrus aroma is essential to cutting through the Campari’s bitterness.
My Refined Thought
The Negroni is truly a drink for grown ups. It is a curated masterpiece of strong ingredients with a refined, herbal bitterness. It is a distinct drink of high society—no fluff, no sugary mixes to make it “appealing,” but simply a bold, tasteful note of perfection that defines a high-brow sip.
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