I remember the first time I had Fernet Branca.
I was in a highly lauded Nashville cocktail bar along with my boss and our distillery owner. I can’t remember exactly what brought us there, but I know that we had some wonderful libations—and that, at the end of the evening, we capped the whole affair with a shot of Fernet Branca.
That first gulp was … challenging. I’m sure if I could go back and see my face, the look would have been a mixture of addled confusion and nauseated grimacing. What the hell was this stuff, and why was everyone around me so obsessed with it? How could this be the mythical “bartender’s handshake”? And, after swallowing, would my palate ever return to normal?
Since that time, I’ve spent many a drinking session trying to wrap my head around not only Fernet Branca, but also the wider world of bitter liqueurs collectively known as amari. It turns out that—like oysters, baijiu, and the music of Post Malone—they are an acquired taste. (For the record, I’ll take the funkiest baijiu in the world any day of the week over having to listen to a Post Malone album.)
In fact, it didn’t take long for me to understand what all the bitter buzz was about. Not only did I grow to like things such as Campari and Fernet Branca, but I actually fell head over heels in love with them.
I’m not alone. While it’s not a category that’s likely to ever outsell bourbon or tequila, amaro has a dedicated, entrenched fan base. Entire bar programs are built around the stuff, and there have even been a few books published detailing the rise, expansion, and production of amaro.
Bitters 101
It’s important for distillers to understand the world of amari, what these liquids are, the various subcategories, how they’re made, and the botanicals involved.
So, what is an amaro, exactly?
Amaro—amari is the plural—is a type of liqueur. The word is Italian for bitter and, indeed, that’s what this category is all about. The level of bitterness ranges from nearly imperceptible and almost cloyingly sweet to full-on bitter bombs designed to make your tongue recoil to the nether regions of your esophagus. Of course, most products lie somewhere in between.
The bitterness and aromatics come from the heavy use of botanicals, some of which are quite bitter. Their makers typically steep the botanicals in some kind of neutral spirit for a period of time, then dose the macerate with sugar and perhaps even color it, before packaging the liqueur at the appropriate strength.
People often sip amari either before a meal as an aperitif or after eating, as a digestif. The bitterness in these products does indeed seem to affect our perceived appetite. Somewhere along the line, though, bartenders realized that some amari work perfectly as cocktail ingredients. Without Campari, for instance, we would have no negronis or boulevardiers—and that would leave the world a far sadder place.
There are various subcategories of amaro, but admittedly these exist largely in the minds of the bartending cognoscenti. There is no amaro council in a distant ivory tower to decree formal definitions. That’s largely because these products have their origins in the old world of medicinal spirits and health tonics.
The use of various botanicals for purported health benefits is an ancient practice going back thousands of years. Once Homo sapiens developed the innovation of distilling high-strength alcohol, physicians and pharmacists began formulating various tonics to treat any number of common maladies. Eventually, a few products gained wider recognition—and as medical science advanced to more modern pharmaceuticals, some of these liqueurs hung on commercially as something delicious (and intoxicating) to drink.
However, for the sake of trying to make some sense out what’s often a very confusing category, I’ll attempt some brief classification here. My brain is already starting to crack at the mental seams as I begin to think about the many, many amari out there … but here goes nothin’.
Aperitivos
Aperitivo is perhaps the most recognizable category in the world of amaro. Aperitivos are what many refer to as the bitter reds or Amalfi Coast–style bitters.
The most famous bottles are Campari and Aperol, though quite a few others have emerged in recent years, largely thanks to the ever-fanned flames of the spritz cocktail craze. These liqueurs are often characterized by citrus and gentian notes, with bitterness ranging from fairly sweet (Aperol) to medium-bitter (Campari). Also, they tend to be red—like, really red.
Simple food dyes often color modern examples, but historically there was heavy use of carmine derived from cochineal beetles.
Alpine
Alpine amari are a loosely defined group of liqueurs originating from Italian regions near the Alps. As such, they often have higher amounts of alpine botanicals such as juniper and pine.
Historically, the gold standard in this category has been Braulio, but other bottlings out there are worth picking up. Be on the lookout for Faccia Brutto Amaro Alpino (from New York) or Cappelletti Amaro Alta Verde (from Italy).
Carciofo
Here’s where things get a little weird, at least on paper. These amari are bittered with liberal use of artichoke leaves.
But if you’re artichoke averse, don’t despair. The resulting liquor doesn’t actually taste like the vegetable. In fact, for amari, these tend to be a little on the sweeter side. Cynar is the best-known bottle, but smaller upstarts are worth hunting. Don Ciccio & Figli in Washington, D.C., specializes in amari—all of them delicious—and they make one hell of a carciofo.
Rabarbaro
Rabarbaro are based on the heavy use of Chinese rhubarb root as one of the main ingredients. These liqueurs tend to be mildly bitter with a lot of fruitiness and a slight tartness.
The most famous example is Zucca Rabarbaro. Another interesting one to seek out is Cappelletti’s Amaro Sfumato Rabarbaro, which has a subtle but enticing smokiness to it.
Tartufo
Admittedly, tartufo is a rare one. You won’t see tartufo amari on too many shelves. This probably has a lot to do with their defining ingredient, black truffles, which—as you likely know—are mother-truckin’ expensive.
That hasn’t stopped a few craft producers from trying their hand at the category. In Seattle, Fast Penny Spirits has created their Amaricano line of amari, and they all incorporate locally foraged truffles.
Fernet
Here we are—the bartender’s handshake, the amaro heavyweight and absolute palate-bruiser that is fernet.
Most people associate this category with one brand, Fernet Branca, which is admittedly the “standard.” But a whole slew of other fernets out there are worth trying, including Mexico’s Fernet Vallet, Fernet Francisco (from Falcon Spirits), and Luxardo Fernet.
Fernet is fairly mentholated in flavor, and it’s often intensely bitter. It’s usually considered to be one of the bitterest categories of amaro, and that fact can make introducing someone to it a bit more of a challenge than, say, handing them a shot of Cynar.
However, once people warm up to fernet’s abrasive attitude, it’s hard to ignore all its underlying charms.
German and Eastern European
When was the last time you did a shot of Jägermeister? (Don’t lie, we’ve all done it.)
The late Sydney Frank will go down in liquor industry history as a bit of a genius. He took a seriously traditional German kräuterlikör and convinced a whole generation of Americans that it was best served as a chilled party shot.
Yes, Jägermeister is actually a very serious amaro—and there are other German bitters worth knowing as well. Ever had an Underberg? No? Then stop reading my drivel and order a few bottles online right now. You’ll thank me later.
German-style bitters are a bit of a mixed bag, but they’re generally all pretty fascinating. Jägermeister is a little citrusy, slightly bitter, and has some subtle woodsy and aniseed notes. Underberg is a bit more bitter with a heavier clove note.
Other Amari
There are boatloads of amari that defy easy classification. But it’s not all anarchy and conceptual chaos.
Most of the amari in this group hew toward the sweeter side of the category’s sugar spectrum. They include classics such as Averna (herbaceous with hints of cola), Lucano (eucalyptus and root beer), and Nonino (caramel, vanilla, and citrus).
The Botanicals
Amaro is one of the most complicated spirits categories on the planet precisely because there are so few rules surrounding its production, or even what it’s made from.
Some recipes contain only a few different herbs, but most of the classic commercial examples in most of the important categories include 10, 20, 30, or more herbal ingredients.
Fernet gets 27 botanical ingredients that include chamomile, saffron, gentian, angelica, and galangal. The company is willing to list a few others, but the rest of the botanicals and their usage amounts are kept top secret. Campari reportedly uses 68 ingredients, and their lips are completely mum on virtually all of them.
So, yeah, we would likely need an encyclopedia to list and describe all the herbs used in the amaro trade. Here we’ll focus on the primary bittering ingredients often used in amaro production.
There are quite a few bittering agents out there. Even limiting ourselves to that specific category of herbs, we’re still talking about far more botanicals that we can cover here. But here are the big ones
Cherry-Tree Bark
Used in a handful of amari and bitters, cherry-tree bark lends a light bitter edge to these liquids. It has a slight bitter-almond flavor that adds to the complexity of some bitter liqueurs. While it’s not officially an amaro, you can experience the flavor in Bittercube’s Cherry Bark Vanilla cocktail bitters.
Cinchona Bark
Cinchona bark is often used as a bittering agent in cocktail bitters, but it finds its way into the world of amaro as well. Its primary contribution to the liquid matrix is quinine, a fairly bitter alkaloid. Famously, quinine has fever-reducing properties and is effective at treating some cases of malaria—hence cinchona’s nickname, “the fever tree.”
Gentian Root
Gentian root is used pretty heavily in quite a few amari, including classic aperitivos such as Campari. Not only is it a decent bittering agent, but it also gives a uniquely earthy, rooty aroma to the spirit. I would argue that Campari’s aroma is fairly well defined by the heavy gentian component and that it’s essential to reproducing that style of amaro.
Quassia Bark
Quassia bark, aka “Bitter Wood,” grows in the West Indies. It contains the bitter compound quassin, which is about 50 times more bitter than quinine, making it one of the bitterest compounds in the world. So, a little of the stuff goes a very long way. And if you’re only using a little, don’t expect quassia bark to contribute much to the aroma—this stuff is mainly used for tongue-battering bitterness.
Wormwood
Oh, devilish wormwood—so much has been erroneously written and maliciously spread about you over the past century. It’s a crying shame because you are so important to the production of all manner of beauteous beverages, including absinthe and quite a few vermouths.
Wormwood does manage to find its way into the occasional amaro. Absinthin is the bittering compound produced by the plant, and it is intensely bitter. Like quassin above, it is generally considered one of the bitterest compounds known to the human palate. However, wormwood also has a slight herbaceous flavor that it contributes to the liquid, so the distiller must strike a delicate balance between flavor and bitterness.
How To Produce Amaro
If you ask the average home bitters maker, they’ll tell you that the actual production process of making amaro is super-duper simple. But let me assure you that while the general workflow isn’t too complicated, myriad techniques and approaches can greatly complicate things.
Typically, the process starts with your botanical recipe and some neutral spirit. Soak the botanicals in the full-strength spirit for about two weeks, then strain them out. Dilute the spirit down with filtered water, add sugar and/or color, and there you go. You’ve made amaro!
Sounds easy, doesn’t it?
Here’s the rub: That basic methodology ignores some cruel realities. It may work for the basic home amaro-maker just trying to experiment with a few bottles for friends and family. But to make something truly world class, you need to more deeply consider the overall approach.
First, choose your base spirit carefully.
Historically, these products used unaged brandy as a base. Nowadays, the most common thing to use is neutral-grain spirit (NGS). Unfortunately, not all NGS is created equal.
Despite being marketed as “neutral,” these spirits all exhibit subtly different flavors and aromas from each other. (It’s just a simple truth of the distillation process. You can never fully escape flavor in beverage-grade alcohol.) A neutral spirit from wheat is going to be different from one produced from corn or apples or sugarcane. Some are rounder and fuller on the palate, while others are thinner and sharper.
Contact your supplier and ask for as many different samples as they’ll send your way. Dilute the spirit down to approximately your intended amaro bottle strength, and taste. Look for the one with the most pleasing characteristics for you.
Second, not all botanicals give up their aromatics or bittering compounds at the same rate.
This is true even in full-strength NGS. This frustrating fact has prompted some producers to macerate groups of botanicals—or even each individual botanical—separately from each other.
The distiller might strain and remove some botanicals earlier or later, depending on the desired extraction profile. They then blend the resulting macerates according to taste.
Third, maceration is just one approach.
There are other ways of getting aromas and flavors into the spirit. Some of the aromatics from the botanicals will exhibit more nuanced characters if derived from distillation. (And then you have to consider the charge strength of the distillation and whether you’re distilling in pot or through a vapor basket…)
You can also use a percolation technique by pumping and circulating the neutral spirit through the botanicals. Add in a little heat to the whole affair, and you may find that you can speed up the extraction… and potentially change which flavors are extracted.
Then there’s the question of the sweetening agent.
Most home producers use basic table sugar, but you can introduce new dimensions of aroma and flavor by using other sugar sources such as honey, agave syrup, brown sugar, and more.
Just be careful, because many of these sweeteners will cause a haze to form—and if you intend to commercially release the amaro, then you’ll likely want to deal with that in short order.
And what about the color?
Aperitivos are typically red, and there aren’t too many botanicals that will get you that kind of color without throwing an aromatic wrench into the works. So, you’re left with using commercially acceptable food colorings.
If you want to go the traditional route, you’re going to need to source some carmine E120 produced from the cochineal beetle. You could also opt for various artificial colorings—but no matter which pathway you take, you’ll need to do some shelf-stability testing.
My first foray into using carmine looked fantastic on the first day of blending. Then I came back two days later, only to find that the color had precipitated out and settled at the bottom of the bottle. I hadn’t properly dissolved the carmine before blending. Lesson learned. (Fortunately, those bottles never hit commercial shelves.)
Those are just a smattering of the considerations you’ll need to ponder as you begin the amaro production process. Yes, the methods are easy, but deceptively so. If you want to make the best product possible, you’ll want to be aware of potential pitfalls at every step of the journey.
Recipes
Many of you no doubt skipped the majority of the article and ran right to this section. I can’t blame you. Well, here we are. I offer you an aperitivo recipe and a fernet recipe.
These come from a 1910 Italian liqueur manual, Il Liquorista Practico, by Luigi Sala. (And yes, you can find reprints online for about $35.) The book is in Italian, but don’t worry. I’m doing the translating work for you. (Rather, Google Translate is—I can barely speak English, let alone Italian.)
I’ve edited the recipes slightly where appropriate, and I’ve eliminated questionable ingredients—such as anything that might not be considered safe for human consumption. All the same, you should always double-check to make sure that any ingredient you use is considered safe by the regulatory authorities in your state and/or country.
Aperitivo
Peels of 10 fresh oranges
50 g cascarilla
50 g calamus
50 g angelica root
25 g quassia
50 g dried rhubarb
25 g wormwood
50 g cochineal (red E120)
6 liters neutral grain spirit, 85–96% ABV
6 liters water
5 kg sugar
“Crush the botanicals and leave them to steep in the spirit for 10 days. Dissolve the sugar in the water; once cool, combine with the strained infusion and filter.”
Fernet
50 g myrrh
100 g zedoary root
30 g saffron
100 g aniseed
100 g gentian
100 g dried rhubarb
100 g licorice root
200 g chamomile
50 g aloe ferox
200 g mint
15 liters neutral grain spirit, 85–96% ABV
15 liters water
“Chop the roots and herbs and steep them in a mixture of 10 liters of spirit and 2 liters of water for 10 days. After this time, press the mixture to extract the liquid, add the remaining water and spirit, color with burnt sugar, and filter. This fernet closely resembles the authentic version produced by the best firms in Milan.”
A Parting Shot
There you have it—a crash course on making amaro.
Now, let me end this whole thing by offering a final word of advice.
In all likelihood, your first attempts at making a world-class amaro will be questionable at best. Be patient. Getting so many botanicals to play nicely across a bitter and sugary landscape can be challenging, but the journey is nearly as much fun as the destination.