How to Make the Perfect Negroni

There are cocktails that flirt — the cosmopolitan, the bloody mary, the spritz. And then there’s the Negroni: bitter, bold, one you want to spit out the first time you drink it.

It’s the kind of drink that feels like jazz in a dim bar at midnight. If the martini is James Bond in a tux, the Negroni is Marcello Mastroianni in sunglasses, leaning against a counter in Florence, cigarette half-lit, not in any hurry.

Invented in Florence in 1919, allegedly by Count Camillo Negroni — an Italian aristocrat who, legend has it, rode horses in America, gambled in New York, and returned to Italy with a taste for gin. Allegedly, when the Count asked his bartender to “fortify” his usual Americano with gin instead of soda, the Negroni was born. A century later, it’s still the drink that bartenders respect and drinkers grow into. (Though, like with all good stories, the origin is deeply debated.)

Everything about it is deliberate. The blood-red Campari that gives it its bite. The gin that cuts through the vermouth. It’s a drink that teaches you something about balance — how bitterness, handled right, can be beautiful.

Anthony Bourdain famously loved it, calling it “the perfect drink,” which tracks.

But for a drink so simple, it’s also surprisingly easy to screw up. Too much vermouth and it’s syrupy; too much Campari and it tastes like garbage. So, if you’re going to make one — make it right. Here’s how to do it like a pro.

Remember the Formula

One part gin, one part Campari, one part sweet vermouth. That’s it. Don’t get fancy. Don’t “eyeball it.” Measure like a grown-up. The Negroni’s beauty lies in precision — three ingredients, perfectly balanced.

Pick a Bold Gin

Campari is loud — brash, bitter, red. To stand up to it, you need a gin with backbone. A London Dry-style works best: Tanqueray No. Ten if you like citrus, Beefeater if you’re a purist, Monkey 47 if you’re feeling spendy. Avoid overly floral or modern gins, they don’t give it that kick.

Get Good Vermouth and Treat It Right

Vermouth is wine. Which means it spoils. Once it’s open, stick it in the fridge and finish it within a few months. Carpano Antica Formula is the gold standard — rich and a little spicy — but Dolin or Martini Riserva Rubino are solid too. Old vermouth will ruin your drink faster than you think.

Stir, Never Shake

Rule of thumb: if your drink has no juice, no cream, and no syrup, you stir it. A Negroni is all spirit — so please don’t stir it. Stirring chills and dilutes it just enough to open up the flavours without bruising the gin or clouding the drink. Thirty slow rotations over ice should do it. You’re not making a protein shake. And you’re also not performing at a bar takeover.

Respect the Ice

Ice is part of the architecture. Use one big cube if you can (it melts slower, looks better, feels luxurious). If you’re using regular freezer ice, make sure it’s fresh. And no crushed ice — you’re not at a beach bar in Goa.

The Orange Peel Is Not a Suggestion

Express, don’t swipe. Hold the peel over the drink, twist it to release the oils, and drop it in. Resist the urge to rub it around the rim; it’ll numb your lips and dull the taste. The idea is to inhale the scent before every sip — that’s the Negroni’s foreplay.

Serve It Right

Pour it over ice in a heavy rocks glass — something with heft. It should feel good in your hand. A good Negroni is as much about ritual as it is about recipe.

The Fifth Element: Don’t Rush

Making a Negroni is a small act of ceremony. You don’t rush it. You put on a record (Sinatra, maybe Miles Davis), dim the lights, and give it 90 seconds of your undivided attention.

The Spin-Offs

Once you’ve nailed the original, play around. Swap gin for prosecco and you’ve got a Negroni Sbagliato (yes, the “stunning” drink Emma D’Arcy made famous). Replace gin with bourbon and it becomes a Boulevardier. With mezcal, it’s smoky and dangerously seductive. But always remember: the soul of the Negroni lives in its holy trinity — bitter, sweet, strong.