It’s aperitivo hour in Venice and I’m unashamed to say I’m cheating on my favourite cocktail with another Italian contender. All the wicker chairs outside Il Caffè Rosso, a bohemian cafe on Campo Santa Margherita in Dorsoduro, are fully occupied as the late-afternoon light illuminates the blatant ruby glow of the Spritz just within reach of my hand, which lazily drifts between lifting the bittersweet cocktail to my lips and dipping into the accompanying glass bowl of wafer-thin potato crisps. Chunks of ice clink in the Lamborghini-red fizz, and the hum of chat intensifies when the sun-warmed pavement fills with locals spilling out of workplaces.
Read the full article here.
