Lucy Gellman Photo
John Ginnetti doesn’t mess around behind the incandescent, butter-colored bar at 116 Crown. The first time I met him, he was walking me through the recipe for a Dominant Tonic and — unbeknownst to my trusty new employer Paul Bass — I walked into not one, but two, stationary objects on my way home before pounding out a story.
There are two possibilities here. The first is that I am both petite and getting old, and can no longer gallivant around bars with the abandon of my early twenties. The second, which I tend to prefer, is that Ginnetti is a wizard, and makes a mean magic brew.
So when national Negroni Week –– yes, that’s a thing, premised on the polite wallop of a cocktail that is equal parts gin, Campari, and sweet vermouth — came around this year, I found in my partner a responsible adult to share the burden of gustatory research and headed to 116 Crown after work on Tuesday, the start of the event.
“You go into a bar and order a Negroni, you have this moment with the bartender where it’s like ‘you know what I’m talking about and you know that I know what I’m talking about,’” Ginnetti said from behind the bar, mixing drinks and handshakes for a slow trickle of customers while rain pelted the windows outside. “In my mind, this is what a Negroni is. It’s not supposed to be this over-the-top, bitter thing … it’s supposed to be balanced. It’s three ingredients, in the same proportion, it’s an easy drink to make, it’s supposed to be an easy drink to drink. It’s a classic. It’s a perfect drink.”
Ginnetti wanted to fête the Negroni in a way that was bigger and better than last year, when the bar featured the drink and its businesslike cousin, the Boulevardier. Partial proceeds from sales of each went to benefit All Our Kin (AoK), an organization that trains and supports childcare providers. Ginnetti is enamored of All Our Kin’s work and last year raised $350; trying to expand his efforts was a “no-brainer.”
“It was sort of difficult to figure out a good way to be involved with All Our Kin, considering it’s kids and this is alcohol, but it seemed benign enough to work it out. Last year naturally extended to this year,” he said. This year he added both entry-level drinks and bold alternatives for those willing to try a little something new.
In the interest of local journalism, we started with a classic Negroni, born in early 20th-century Florence. When done right, it is the perfect balance of the bitter, cocoa-edged Campari, sweet, spicy vermouth and herby gin topped with an orange peel. This version — equal parts Hendricks gin, Campari, and Boissierre Sweet Vermouth — already has a place tucked away on the menu. Ginnetti says he can spot his “Negroni faithfuls” when they come in, and wanted to do this week well, in part, for them.
He didn’t stop there, though. Watching him swirl and pour a range of gem-toned liquors, we proceeded to a San Francisco Hipster (Mr. Katz’s Rock & Rye, Campari, and Fernet Branca on the rocks, served with a Mexican coke to mix in), a new favorite of Ginnetti’s. His only regret is not calling it the Oakland Hipster. He thinks it may make the menu after this week.
Going completely backward, we then sampled the entry-level Secret Handshake (Plymouth gin, macerated strawberry, and Strega served on the rocks), designed for newcomers to the Negroni who are a little too timid to jump right in. Two more new offerings beckoned from the menu, where, factoring in the walk home and remaining work for the evening, we left them for the night.
There are a lot of theories on how the Negroni came into being — Lucca Picchi ‘s Sulle Tracce del Conte: La Vera Storia del Cocktail Negroni (On the Trail of the Count: The True Story of the Negroni Cocktail) is good bedtime reading — but, true to Ginnetti’s vision of the week, none of them seemed to matter Tuesday night. Several New Haveners trickled in, shaking off the rain and sidling up to the bar or slipping into booths. Community and conversation buzzed over the crush of ice cubes and clinking of cocktail wands to glass edges. For a moment, there was a warm, Italian-edged respite from the outside world.
“It’s amazing and alive,” said local fashion designer Neville Wisdom, sampling a San Francisco Hipster on his way home from a long day of work. “It feels good.”