Green Negroni

• 3⁄4 oz London Dry Gin
• 3⁄4 oz Bitter Bianco liqueur
• 3⁄4 oz Bianco Vermouth
• 1⁄3 oz Green Chartreuse
• 1⁄2 oz Midori or green melon liqueur
• Stir ingredients with ice for 20-30 seconds, pour over a rock of ice into an old fashioned glass.
• Garnish with a thin slice of melon.

Happy Friday, friends!

As we inch closer to the holidays, our home is slowly disappearing beneath strings of multicolored Christmas lights. So on the heels of last week’s vibrant pink Fumosa Rosa, it feels only appropriate to move a little further around the color wheel.

Enter the Green Negroni, a playful riff on the classic that wears its name proudly.

Where a traditional Negroni relies on the sturdy triad of gin, sweet red vermouth, and Campari, this version shifts the palette in a few subtle but important ways. We still begin with a London dry gin, but the sweet red vermouth is replaced with a bianco vermouth, which better supports the softer, greener notes to come.

Campari also steps aside in favor of Luxardo Bitter Bianco. Bitter Bianco shares Campari’s bitter-citrus backbone, but with one key difference: it’s clear. Distilled infusions of herbs, plants, and citrus give it both brightness and depth, with a whisper of Roman absinth to round it out. It’s a natural fit for pale cocktails—and for this one.

At this point, we could stop. The Negroni form is technically satisfied. But this isn’t a White Negroni. It’s a Green one.

So we fold in two more ingredients: Green Chartreuse and Midori.

Green Chartreuse needs no introduction to bartenders. High-proof, herbal, minty, spicy, and famously colored by alpine plants, it’s made by French Carthusian monks from a 130-plant recipe that remains secret to this day. Bottles have been harder to find in recent years, but here in Interior BC, both the Green and Yellow varieties appear on shelves with surprising regularity.

Midori is the softer counterpoint—sweet, bright, and unmistakably melon-forward. (And yes, its name simply means “green” in Japanese—not to be confused with the green-haired anime hero from My Hero Academia.) Made from cultivars like Yubari King melons, it supplies both the sweetness and much of the emerald color in this cocktail.

When you take the first sip, the gin, Bitter Bianco, and bianco vermouth arrive immediately, crisp and lightly bitter on the front of the palate. But as the drink settles and spreads, the bitterness lifts, letting the melon and herbal notes unfurl. The garnish—an elegant slice of fresh melon—invites a bit of playful dunking along the way.

It’s a Negroni at heart, but with layers the original never aimed for. A blend of herbaceousness and subtle sweetness that’s both complex and festive. And as a bonus, a Green Negroni offers excellent camouflage should you find yourself standing in front of a well-lit Christmas tree. 😁🎄

As I sip this Green Negroni and glance at the growing glow of December, I’m reminded of the Christmas traditions that began when our daughter joined us twenty-two years ago.

Back when we lived in Portland, our holiday season always started with loading up the car—child, 2–3 dogs, gifts, luggage, and an overstuffed roof container—for the 500-mile drive to Kelowna. Every trip became its own comedy. There was the year we left at 5 p.m. after our last day of work, determined to maximize the full 24 hours of the day… only to realize halfway across Washington that midnight diaper changes require open gas stations or a McDonald's bathroom. There was the time we arrived at the border with four bottles of Willamette Valley wine—two per adult, perfectly reasonable—only to be told by the agent, “Doesn’t sound like much of a party.”

I remember white-knuckling the steering wheel over Blewett Pass in the snow, wrestling the roof container shut by climbing on top of the car, and watching our daughter—older each year—devour entire Percy Jackson novels somewhere around Ellensburg.

Once we reached Kelowna, my wife’s parents folded us into their own traditions. Ski passes to Big White were a yearly Christmas gift, a loving callback to the years they owned a condo on the mountain. We’d visit McCulloch Station Pub for pints and comfort food, take snowy dog walks from the trailhead at the end of their street, and, once Stuart Park was redeveloped, venture down to the waterfront for outdoor ice skating under the gaze of the grizzly bear statue. I’d mix spiked eggnog for myself and gin & tonics for my father-in-law—always without ice, to this Gen Xer’s eternal mystery.

Now, as our first Christmas in Kelowna as residents approaches, I find myself wondering which traditions we want to carry forward. This time, our daughter will be coming to us, and it’s our turn to shape the rhythm of the holiday. Ski passes feel inevitable. A visit to McCulloch’s would be a touching nod to her childhood memories of Pops and Nana. And while I doubt I’ll get my wife onto ice skates again, a festive walk along the waterfront seems like a safe bet.

But traditions survive because they evolve. Kelowna offers so much to weave into the mix: the Nutcracker at Rotary Centre for the Arts, the Festival of Trees at Mission Hill Winery, a Christmas Day ski with Santa at Big White (if only our daughter were younger), gingerbread building at SilverStar, or simply staying home to enjoy the quiet charm of our new neighborhood between screenings of Love Actually and Elf. Some traditions are planned. Others just happen, and become traditions because they mattered.

So as I sit here with my Green Negroni, reflecting on both the old rituals and the new ones waiting for us, I raise a toast to the traditions we inherit and the ones we build from scratch. May your own holiday season carry a jigger of nostalgia and a few bright dashes of something new.

Cheers to you, and to you a good night! 🧑‍🎄🎄🥃