I have lived for fifteen years outside of Italy and had to endure the oh-so-harsh reality my beloved adoptive country knew next to nothing about aperitivo: the ritual, the food and, crucially, the drinks. Honed by years of aperitivo practice in the elegantly baroque squares of Turin, once abroad I had often to tell bartenders how to make my drink of choice: the aristocratic, zesty, bitterly pleasant Negroni.

A bit of America enters my little story: the only foreign person I met during my years away from Italy who knew about Negroni was a smart - and very talented - Broadway actress who ensured me Negroni "was all the rage" among the artsy crowds of the Big Apple. One really can tell there is Italian blood running in America's body.