CUISINE

Campari, created in 1860 by Gaspare Campari in Novara, Italy, is a bright-red, bitter liqueur infused with herbs and fruit peels. Its bold, bittersweet profile quickly became iconic in aperitivo culture. In the early 20th century, Count Camillo Negroni of Florence famously requested his Americano cocktail (Campari, sweet vermouth, soda) be strengthened with gin instead of soda. The bartender obliged, and the Negroni was born. Balanced between bitter, sweet, and botanical, the drink has since gained international fame as one of the world’s most enduring cocktails.

Negroni Week, which ran from 22–28 September, was a celebration of this timeless aperitivo. For me, Campari was the first spirit I ever tasted, when my aunty Nicola brought me a bottle back in the mid-80s. Its transformation into the Negroni is something truly special.

To revisit the drink properly, I sat down at the bar at Cellar Door, one of Christchurch’s cultural icons, with none other than Tim Ogle. Tim is a master of beverage, and his insights are as precise as his pours.

“Cellar Door don’t ‘offer’ cocktails,” he explained, “but there are certain things you just do for people—and a decent Negroni is one of them. The ingredients are simple, and as long as you measure carefully and work quickly, there’s no messing it up. Using really good ingredients is the key to taking it to another level, and we’re so proud to have such fantastic local products at our disposal.”

Big ice, Tim noted, is essential. It chills the liquid quickly and melts slowly, keeping the drink cold without losing strength. His garnish of choice: blood orange, available fresh this week. Sometimes you’ll see the peel flamed for extra bitterness and toast, but in the US it’s more common to see a full juicy wedge.

The Negroni at Cellar Door drew on some of Canterbury and Otago’s best:

30ml Elsewhere “North Canterbury” Triple Gin

30ml Scapegrace × Prophet’s Rock Red Vermouth

30ml Campari

Finished with a ribbon of blood orange peel, built over big cubes of ice and stirred with care.

Elsewhere Gin, crafted by Canterbury winemaker Mark Rose, is triple-distilled with wild-foraged local botanicals. It carries bright notes of orange blossom, lavender, rose, and olive, grounded with a saline sweetness drawn from the cliffs of Taylor’s Mistake.

The Scapegrace × Prophet’s Rock Red Vermouth was equally remarkable. Winemaker Paul Pujol contributed single-vineyard Bendigo Pinot Noir, aged in French oak for ten months, then infused with Central Otago foraged botanicals—rosemary, thyme, kānuka, elderflower—most harvested within metres of the vineyard.

And, of course, the third pillar: Campari. Bitter, astringent, and velvet-textured, it remains the soul of the Negroni.

The result was a drink that was at once bitter, sweet, and botanical, layered with local nuance and served with quiet confidence.

As I finished my Negroni, one thought lingered: it’s not the destination, it’s the journey. Sitting in a great bar, drinking perhaps the finest Negroni I’ve ever had, is exactly the kind of journey worth remembering.