Bitter is the new sour

There's a new bottle in my life, and we're really hitting it off. Her name is Campari.

I've flirted with Campari now and then over the years, at various cocktail bars that serve up tarts (like the Paradigm Shift at Oliver's). But, despite all those pleasant one-drink evenings, I never brought her home.

That oversight has finally been rectified. My bar has now found its missing piece (just like the scene in The Glenn Miller Story where Jimmy Stewart finally discovers his elusive “sound” by switching the lead from trumpet to clarinet).

I've long been a fan of the bracingly sour, and now it seems sour alone doesn't get the job done. With Campari, you get a whack-upside-the-head dose of bitterly sour. On a really hot day (in Seattle, anything over 80° counts), try a tall glass of grapefruit juice with gin, Campari, and a squeeze of lime. It'll make your face implode.

Unfortunately, Campari and bourbon don't get along at all. But that's OK — there are often people in your life that you just have to keep separated. And bourbon will always be my Sweet Baboo.