Above: Farmacia Alcolica
A bottle of wine with lunch means it is pretty rare that we boulevardier our way into many bars when we travel. Yes, of course, sometimes when walking long distances we quench our thirst with a beer or spritz.
But then, every single day of our stay in Palermo, we looked out our window, across the intimate palm-filled Giardino dei Giusti, straight at Farmacia Alcolica. The people spilling out onto an unusual assemblage of furniture, occupying a lane lusted after by drivers cruising the narrow streets for a rare parking spot, looked so comfortable. Hard not to conclude it was just what the doctor ordered, at least once or twice.
The pharmacy theme was carried throughout the two small rooms, with menus printed on thin, multi-folded paper similar to many a drug warning, ours delivered in a Braille-imprinted, repurposed Claritin box. Maybe the bikes represent the doctor’s advice to exercise? Or for other needs, as the bike conveniently saddled with a leather wine bag?
Above: Farmacia Alcolica
My chosen prescription was a mezcal concoction resembling a temazcal treatment under glass, a therapeutic cure for almost anything. Such an effective medicine, maybe I should have ordered two. Amazing how far and wide mezcal distribution is now.
The moving-living-room-furniture-out-into-the-streets design for socialization over cocktails was not particularly uncommon in Palermo. The cushiony den furniture below was parked on a small pie-shaped patio of L’Acerba Osteria Dinamica, somehow peaceful despite its steps-away proximity to the bustling Capo Market.
We ate a late lunch with records spinning at Cantavespri Art Cafe, but it comes alive mainly at night. The menu is suitable for approaching more as bar food. I’d dismiss the fried calamari and vegetable plate as so-so, but, wait, those darker brown balls on the back left are fried grapes. I could have eaten a whole platter of those grapes. The crostone with its sun-dried tomatoes, a walnut pesto and thinly-sliced spicy cured pork proved a savory combination. Frank Zappa was on the wall, and there was a super-nice man sitting across the table from me.
Above: Cantavespri Art Cafe
Like Sicilians and many Europeans, we were known to sip on a waiting-for-sunset Campari or Aperol spritz. But I had no idea until many spritzes later that Ukraine has called for a boycott of those aperitifs because of the company’s continued trade with Russia. A sacrifice, as an Aperol spritz is one of the most popular summer drinks in Ukraine.
According to Siobhan O’Grady and Kostiantyn Khudov in The Washington Post:
“We had glasses with the Aperol name on them and we destroyed them or threw them in the trash,” said Pavlo Lavrukhin, 29, a bartender at Squat 17B, a hipster hangout tucked behind a residential building in central Kyiv.…
So, Squat 17B and other bars got rid of Aperol and are serving an alternative made with comparable orange spirits from other Italian companies instead.
Lavukhin’s bar also dropped the word “Aperol” from the menu, renaming the cocktail a Venice Spritz. Last month, Squat 17B served 110 of the renamed drinks, 370 Negronis and 120 Boulevardiers — all without a single drop of liquor made by Campari.
Which brings me around to Guerrera Apertivo Siciliano, bearing a label with an attitude. It’s not easy to find, and, attracted by that label, I spent a while wandering the streets to find a spot to sample it. At the time, I wasn’t bowled over by it as a substitute for my Campari.
But now, this is Guerrera’s moment to rise up on the world stage. The fledgling brand needs to immediately ship complimentary crates of it to the Ukrainian patriots suffering from withdrawal pangs at Squat 17B in Kyiv. And maybe invite reporters O’Grady and Khudov to be among the first to toast its arrival.
Above: Drained bottles of Guerrera Aperitivo Siciliano
So Salute! Or as they say in Ukraine, Bud’mo!
Postcards from Barton Springs 