Goodbye prosecco, hello franciacorta

Aperol Spritz is over. Even prosecco has lost its fizz. This season is all about franciacorta, vermouth and craft cider, says Richard Godwin

I t used to be so easy to drink. Lob a bit of chardonnay and continental lager at your guests and they were as happy as lemurs. But alcohol is no less subject to seasons and semiotics than clothes. Which isn’t to say there aren’t a few reliables; style never goes out of fashion, and neither does the G&T. It’s just good to freshen things up on a regular basis. Otherwise we might still imagine that Vodka and Orange was acceptable.

Here are some classier ways to toast the slide from spring into (please, God) summer, than slithering into a bottomless brunch.

Try a Cynar Spritz

Theas Brits’ Aperol aperitivo Spritz ofis firmly choice, establishedhaving moved from Italian railway-café obscurity to metropolitan -wokeness to vicarage-tea-party-ubiquity in only a few summers. But I’m afraid we married the wrong sister. Oh, Aperol is sweet and obliging, but you can make a much more delicious (and authentically Venetian) spritz with its more sibling, vivacious Campari. and And volatileboth seem older a little knowable compared with the darker and more brooding Cynar, an artichoke-infused variety of amaro – the bitter class of Italian herbal liqueurs to which Aperol and Campari also loosely belong. Long a favourite of the mixological moustaches, Cynar is steadily winning a mainstream following for its rich, vegetal potency. Its name and chic, Fellini-esque label both refer to the artichoke (cynara scolymus), which is among its 13 proprietary herbs and

spices. In truth, you would be hard pressed to identify artichoke among the bitter orange, cacao, clove and pepper notes. It not only makes a mean Cynar Spritz, it’s also very fine with lemon, sugar and soda in the Cynar Fizz – a mainstay of the cocktail menu at Russell Norman’s Polpo chain.

Make mine a V&T (that’s vermouth, not vodka)

After something a little lighter, to ease you from sunny afternoon into evening? You need a bridging drink. Hawksmoor has a whole section on its menu, while Jason Atherton’s latest venture, Hai Cenato, devotes a page to V&TS – vermouth packing in five times the flavour of vodka for half the ABV.

Indeed, bridging cocktails often revolve around the fortified wines advertised on roadstops in rural France: vermouths (such as Noilly Prat and Martini e Rossi), quinquinas (such as Dubonnet and Byrrh) and aperitif wines (such as Lillet).

Sherry is especially good, having the complexity of an aged spirit for a fraction of the alcohol content. It’s also, as all savvy oenophiles know, by far the cheapest fine wine. Try the Adonis: one measure of dry oloroso, one measure of Carpano Antica Formula sweet vermouth, stirred over ice and strained into a wine glass with a twist of orange peel.

Prosecco or champagne? Neither – try franciacorta

Britain cannot get enough sparkling wine: sales have risen 80 per cent in the last five years to 31.6 million gallons. The cheapness of prosecco has edged out champagne as our party effervescer of choice.

But at the most fashionable parties in Milan, you will find franciacorta, one of Italy’s better kept sparkling secrets, made according to the méthode champenois in the moist hills of Lombardy. The grapes are usually a combination of pinot noir, pinot meunier and chardonnay, as with champagne, and the wine receives its second fermentation inside the bottle, as with champagne (the bubbles in prosecco are injected, as with Coca Cola).

It’s delicious as an aperitif, with notes of apricot, biscuit and thyme. Fortnum & Mason’s Cuvée Brut is supremely elegant compared with many big-name champagnes at its price (£24.50), but even Lidl has tuned in, too; its Borgo Regio Franciacorta (£8.99), is a steal.

Scandify your spirit

Ah Scandinavia! Land of quality TV drama, covetable interiors, fireside sex, enlightened attitudes to parental leave and Michelin-starred chefs foraging bits of moss. And what do they wash it all down with? Aquavit.

You might think of aquavit as the Nordic equivalent of gin. It’s made from neutral grain spirit infused with distinctive botanicals. Caraway and/ or dill are the dominant flavours and then come a variety of cumin, star anise, cardamom, pepper and citrus peel.

Sometimes it’s aged in barrels: the leading Norwegian brand, Linie, is so called as it’s taken around the world in wooden barrels, crossing the ‘‘line’’ of the equator twice.

Traditionally, Scandinavians take it ice-cold with salty-oily-pickled things such as lutefisk (the Norwegian fishy delicacy). But its relative lack of cocktail heritage and uniquely savoury profile have made it a favourite among adventurous bartenders. It makes a mean Bloody Mary in place of vodka, for example – a Bloody Nora, perhaps? And its savoury profile means it collides bracingly with sweeter tropical flavours too. Next time you’re forced to go to Ikea, pick up their very good Snapsmix of seven mini Swedishstyle infusions (£8.25), which includes a couple of styles of Aquavit.

How do you like apples? Alcoholic

Every hipster and her cat makes craft IPA these days, but there are more exciting things in the world of microbrewing. Namely, cider. Look out for Hallets Real Cider from Bristol, the Kent Cider Company and 3CS, a vintage cider made by Masterchef judge William Sitwell. The regional variations of apple varieties and terroir give a wine-like scope: “Yeah mine’s a Sussex Egremont Russet Premier Cru, mate.” London entrepreneur Simon Wright even began making a London cider at his Hawkes brewery in Forest Gate, soliciting apples from gardens and allotments across the capital; he now stocks his at Harvey Nichols.

But cider is more properly a rural business and perhaps will prove part of a regional gastronomic revival. It matches beautifully with food. And if you’ve ever spent much time at the Coronation Tap in Bristol, you will be all too aware of the hallucinogenic qualities.