Italian Amaro Guide: What It Is, How Italians Drink It & Why It Matters

Amaro Tasting at Capo Vaticano

Vaticinium Amaro at tasting

Amaro tasting at Capo Vaticano

Italian Amaro Guide: Understanding the Digestif Tradition

If you’ve spent any real time eating your way through Italy (as one should), you’ve definitely been introduced to Amaro , usually right when you think the meal is finally over. Plates cleared, bellies full, and then… out comes a small glass of something dark, mysterious, and very Italian.

That’s Amaro.The suave, slightly bitter, deeply complex after-dinner moment you didn’t know you needed, until you did.

Amaro isn’t loud. It doesn’t scream for attention. It just quietly shows up, does its job, and leaves an impression. Very Italian of it. This Italian Amaro Guide breaks down what Amaro is, how Italians actually drink it, and which bottles are worth seeking out.

Let’s talk flavor (because this isn’t basic)

Amaros run the gamut: earthy, herbal, citrusy, spicy, sometimes a little medicinal, but in a good way. Think wild botanicals, roots, peels, spices… basically Nonna’s garden if it went to finishing school.

Some are soft and approachable. Others punch you in the palate and say “you’ll understand me later.” And honestly? That’s part of the charm.

My Amaro awakening (Calabria edition)

A trip to Calabria completely changed how I experienced Amaro. Sunset aperitivo at Capovaticano Resort & Spa turned into a full-on Amaro tasting. The kind that makes you rethink everything you thought you liked.

Manuel, the bartender (saint), paired the Amari with high-quality dark chocolate, because of course Italy casually nails that too. Slow sips, small bites, no rushing. It wasn’t about getting tipsy; it was about understanding the flavors.

If you ever get the chance to do an Amaro tasting, do it properly:

• sip slowly

• pair it with dark chocolate

• don’t judge it on the first taste

It’s a long game. And worth it.

So… what is Amaro?

Amaro literally means bitter in Italian. It’s a traditional Italian liqueur most commonly enjoyed as a digestif, something meant to be sipped after a big meal to help digestion (and to extend the experience just a little longer).

Some Italians drink it before dinner, some after, some whenever they feel like it, which is probably the most accurate answer. This also reflects my technique.

How do you drink it?

Groundbreaking technique:👉 you drink it neat, at room temperature, using your mouth.

That’s it.

No ice. No fuss. Just a small pour and patience. Let it open up, let it linger, let it do its thing.

Can you find it in the U.S.?

Absolutely. While Aperol is the most undercover-famous Amaro in America (yes, Aperol is an Amaro), many others have made their way onto cocktail menus and bar shelves.

Bartenders love Amaro because it adds depth and complexity, especially in cocktails. One of my favorites? The Paper Plane: bourbon, Aperol, Amaro Nonino, and lemon juice. Balanced, bold, and dangerously easy to love.

Favorites, because everyone asks

I’ll always have a soft spot for Aperol and Campari, but my palate has matured (she’s been through things).

• Cynar – made from artichokes, not for beginners, slightly medicinal, strangely addictive

• Amaro Nonino – smooth, refined, an easy entry point

• Amaro del Capo – Calabria classic, bright and citrusy

• Jefferson Amaro – also from Calabria, and my unexpected star of that tasting

• 
  

Discovering Jefferson felt like finding a secret that was hiding in plain sight, and those are always the best ones.

Final sip

Amaro isn’t just a drink, it’s a ritual. A pause. A moment to slow down after a great meal and appreciate what just happened.

If you want to drink like an Italian, don’t rush it. Sip intentionally. Let it challenge you a little. And don’t worry if you don’t love every one, the right Amaro will find you.

My favorite (yes, I’m choosing)

If I had to pick the Amaro - Amaro Montenegro takes it. Every time.

It’s balanced, slightly sweet, gently bitter, and incredibly drinkable without being boring. Notes of citrus peel, florals, and warm spice make it approachable, but still interesting enough that you don’t feel like you’re cheating on tradition. It’s the kind of Amaro you can hand to someone who “doesn’t like bitter” and quietly convert them.

I’ll always appreciate Aperol and Campari, and I love exploring bolder bottles like Cynar when I’m in the mood for something more medicinal. But Montenegro? That’s the one I reach for when I want something elegant, versatile, and unmistakably Italian... neat, over ice, or in a cocktail.

If Amaro had a gateway bottle, Montenegro would be it.