Italian Amaros are so bitter that they're named after the Italian word for bitter. To that end, the plural for amaro ("bitter") isn't really amaros, it's amari. And while bitterness doesn't seem like a selling point for adult beverage enthusiasts, let's not forget that the IPA — a craft beer style distinguished by hoppy bitterness — is the most popular beer style. What's more, your newest favorite cocktail has a good chance of featuring an amaro.
Doing shots or having a favorite spirit on the rocks is splendid, but sinking your teeth into a cocktail brimming with complexity is a thrill in liquid form. Yet no bartender wants to mix a laundry list of ingredients, which is where liqueurs come in handy. From warm weather Aperol Spritzers to sophisticated Negronis to the nearly de rigueur Paper Plane, amari are sprouting up like weeds. Some even boast weeds (like dandelion or chicory).
And considering amari are made with all manner of herbs, roots, and flowers, yet keep their recipes tight against the chests of sixth, seventh, or eighth generation family-run distilleries, it's no wonder such cocktails taste like foraging around the world.
At Waypoint in the Grove in Northwest Crossing, bartender Dane Olson wants to teach customers about amari — and learn from those customers, too. I attended one of Waypoint's Mixology 101 classes which served as my personal introduction to an amaro called Montenegro. It has the orange-pith kick of Aperol and Campari but takes it in a darker, nuttier direction —think cola nut — and now my bright orange spritzers have made way for auburn elixirs that keep my palate on its toes.
Enjoyed by themselves, lighter-colored ones tend to be sweeter and suitable as aperitifs, while darker ones lean spicier, rootier, more herbaceous and make for a proper digestif.
No one's not in on this ingredient that has seemingly started tiptoeing into the spotlight since the pandemic.
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"The beauty of the amari world," offers Olson, is that they can be enjoyed alone, in a straightforward high ball (with soda) "and some complex cocktails." Here he rattles off some of the more popular libations such as the Paper Plane, the Last Word and Naked and Famous. When Olson prepared a Piazza, he reached for not one but two different bottles: Montenegro and the ever-alluring-or-kryptonite Fernet Branca which tastes like something a koala bear would drink (if they drank) or that you'd rub on your chest with a bad cold. It also features whiskey for a taste of the familiar. And his featured rosemary in both syrup form and a charred sprig for garnish. What amaro delivers, ultimately, is a taste of the unexpected.
Olson hails from Eugene, Oregon, but has bartended from coast to coast including at an Italian joint in NYC that featured a full list of aperitivos and digestivos. He claims New York drinkers are commonly familiar with the range of amari. But here in Bend, where the classics like Old Fashioneds still reign supreme, the winds of change are blowing and carrying with it transplants in both consumer and mixologist form.
Five Fusion's Zack Ottesen, who's shaken and stirred from Seattle to L.A., calls amari "an essential liqueur in creating some of the best craft cocktails." He acknowledges, "the large array of amari can be a bit overwhelming at first, but they all serve their own purpose. Whether it be an herbaceous kick from a Montenegro or a sweet essence from an Averna, amari are a crucial ingredient to keep in any bar."
Ottesen says he's got "nearly a dozen" behind his bar and frequently reaches for Averna, Nonino, Cynar and Fernet, among others. Olson says he's got nearly 20 amari stocked at Waypoint which is "not as diverse as I'd like it to be." From the Hal 9000 at San Simon featuring the gentian- and juniper-forward Braulio Amaro to the mentholated Growing Older But Not Up at Dear Irene with Fernet Branca's mintier cousin Branca Menta, no one's not in on this ingredient that has seemingly started tiptoeing into the spotlight since the pandemic. Olson's colleague, Sarah Tobias, is migrating from Waypoint to the new downtown spot from Rancher Butcher Chef, Bar RBC, where the Italian bitter liqueurs will be called on for heavy lifting. After all, she's the one who introduced me to the Montenegro Spritz that has caused the bottle of Aperol in my home bar to start gathering dust.
