The New Friend Poison
It’s not easy to make friends. The first part, liking people, is easy. They’re so outgoing, so lifelike, so helpful. But how do you cement the tenuous connection? How do you stop the dewdrops of a pleasant conversation from evaporating?
When I worked in the fine dining industry, one approach was Fernet Branca, a repulsive liqueur that tastes like brushing your teeth after drinking coffee hexed by a witch. It was our social connection mechanism. If you liked somebody, you had a Fernet together. If you didn’t like them, it was also the decent thing to do.
Nobody knew for sure, I think, whether we liked the taste. It is the bitterest comestible available, within reason. While one might surmise that we drank it to signal that we had cool, elevated sensibilities, that’s a little simple. It leaves out this crucial aspect: Fernet is an instant exercise in shared experience. Its taste is so bracing, so singular, that it railroads your consciousness into a place where it is the only thing.
Sipping a glass of merlot with someone is a low-intensity collective sensation, like gazing at a landscape painting together. Throwing back Fernet in a group is like you’re all leaping out of an airplane.
It colors my memory from the whole period. Briefly, I dated someone who occasionally put Fernet on her cheerios. Though we were fond of each other, I was too depressed to escape my bed unless required, so the relationship came to a quick end. Later, I was on the dance floor with her new boyfriend, who remarked on the equine quality of my dance moves, and then discoursed at me about the world market in horse sperm.
Fernet went very well with that kind of absurd pathos. Argentinians also have it with Coke, and I agree that this is a good way to accommodate its intense herbaceous qualities. It also does interesting things to an espresso. Additionally, I’d recommend the Toronto cocktail, a sort of quirky cousin to the Manhattan, which is eight parts rye, one part Fernet, one part simple syrup, and a dash of angostura.
According to the literature, Fernet’s full recipe is a secret, but disclosed ingredients include ferox, bitter orange, chamomile, cardamom, cinchona bark, cinnamon, galangal, gentian, iris, laurel, laraha, linden, myrrh, zedoary and saffron. Let it be known that I don’t know what half of those are.
Someday, I will introduce my new friends to my old poison, or perhaps my new friends will offer me a new poison, which will become the poison of my contemporary personality.
Fernet Branca is not to be confused with Branca Menta, its sister product, which is more pleasing. If you’re looking for a fine after-dinner drink, try Branca Menta combined with bourbon in a 1:1 ratio, stirred over ice and served up, ideally in a coupe.