Cynar is the aperitivo that separates the curious from the committed. Made from 13 herbs and plants — with artichoke (carciofo) as its declared hero ingredient — it sits at 16.5% ABV and delivers a bitter, earthy complexity that Aperol simply cannot match. In Italy, ordering a Cynar Spritz signals that you know what you're doing.
Outside of Italy, Cynar is underrated to the point of obscurity. This is genuinely confusing to anyone who has spent time in the Veneto or along the Adriatic coast, where a Cynar Spritz at 6:30pm is as natural as breathing. The rest of the world is simply behind.
What is Cynar?
Cynar was created in 1952 by Angelo Dalle Molle in Venice — the same city that gave us the Spritz. It takes its name from the Latin Cynara scolymus, the artichoke. Despite the name, it doesn't taste of artichokes in any obvious way. The artichoke acts as a bittering agent alongside a botanical blend that produces something darker and more complex: roasted herbs, a faint earthiness, hints of dried fruit and tobacco, and a long, warm finish.
It's often described as being between Campari (brighter, more citrus-forward) and Fernet (more aggressively medicinal). Cynar sits in the middle — approachable enough for aperitivo, serious enough to command respect as a digestivo.
"Cynar is what Aperol grows up to become, given enough time and patience."
The Cynar Spritz — recipe
Classic Cynar Spritz
- 3 parts Prosecco Brut (or a dry sparkling wine)
- 2 parts Cynar
- 1 part soda water
- One large ice cube or a small handful of larger cubes
- Half a slice of orange, squeezed and placed on the rim
- Optional: a strip of lemon peel, expressed and discarded
Build in a large balloon wine glass, exactly as you would an Aperol Spritz. Ice first, then Prosecco, then Cynar, then soda. The colour will be a deep amber-brown — less photogenic than the vivid orange of an Aperol Spritz, but considerably more interesting in the glass.
The orange squeeze is important: Cynar's earthiness needs the citrus oils to open up on the nose. Without it, the first sip can feel closed and one-dimensional. A strip of expressed lemon peel (run around the rim, then discarded — don't drop it in) adds brightness without sweetness.
The Cynar 70 variation
Campari produces Cynar in two strengths: the standard 16.5% ABV and Cynar 70 Proof, which sits at 35% ABV. The 70 Proof version is significantly more intense — darker, more concentrated, with the bitter and herbal notes amplified considerably. It is not for the faint-hearted in a Spritz, but used in a 1:3 ratio with Prosecco (and skipping the soda entirely) it creates something exceptional: a lower-fizz, more wine-like aperitivo with real depth.
What to eat with a Cynar Spritz
Cynar's earthiness pairs best with foods that have umami character. The classic combinations: aged Pecorino Romano with a drizzle of honey, bruschetta with anchovy butter and capers, or a small bowl of mixed marinated olives. The bitterness in Cynar performs particularly well against salty, fatty foods — it acts as a palate cleanser between bites in a way that sweeter aperitivi cannot.
If you're making supplì (the Roman fried risotto balls), serve them with Cynar rather than Aperol. The earthy bitterness of the liqueur cuts through the fried coating and the molten mozzarella centre in a way that's genuinely revelatory.
Why Italians prefer it to Aperol
This is a generalisation — plenty of Italians drink Aperol happily their entire lives. But in bartender circles, in the Veneto, and among people who drink seriously, there is a progression that happens naturally. Aperol first: easy, sweet, the gateway. Then Campari, when the appetite for bitterness grows. Then Cynar, when complexity becomes the point. It's not snobbery — it's just that the palate evolves, and Cynar rewards the evolved palate more richly than either of its more famous siblings.