Campari: The True Kiss of La Dolce Vita

Has love ever turned a bad eye on you? Your mate took and took until the last thing left to take was your heart. Tossing it aside like one would a peach pit when there is nothing sweet left to taste. The emotional drain guides you through a bevy of feelings until one day there is nothing left but bitterness. But is Bitter something that should be shunned and pushed away?

We are all brought up with a false notion that La Dolce Vita is an attainable and desirable Utopia. Since it doesn’t rain in Utopia, every day would be considered perfect by waking up to the warmth and glory of the sun. You would eat confections with no consequence. Even love and be loved without ever feeling heartbreak. It is at this point that you are left with no genuine measure of ecstasy. Having expelled all the bitterness from your life, how could you ever measure the brix of pleasure? Heartbreak and bitterness give value to both pleasure and love. Without the downs of life there cannot be the highs.

Campari to me is beautiful. Every time I sip on the bitterness of what surely are the red tears of some poor tortured Italian souls, I am reminded of just how sweet my life has become. I believe my body craves Campari to correct the injustice of my life being too sweet. Don’t get me wrong; the hardships of my existence are many. One of which has even shown it’s self to be a cruel brain tumor. But on the sweet side, I have a crazy hot wife with a love for me and I for her that will far outweigh any medical problems leaving them with a weight that is trivial at best. It is in fact this requited love that forces Campari into my life and across my palate. I want to taste the sweetness in my wife’s kiss and a heavy measure of bitterness is just the counterbalance that my heart desires.

Unlike Love, finding bitterness is almost effortless. It peddles into my glass in the form of a Bicyclette. The old men that partake in this drink are known to haphazardly teeter on their bikes as they precede home, hence the name. Harry’s bar in Venice even refuses to serve it. It is just a simple mix of inexpensive white wine, since we would never drink anything that was “cheap”, a few well placed ice cubes and Campari. You may ask how much of each? Let the current amount of passion in your life be the guiding counterbalance to the Campari. My glass will of course be deeply imbued as red as a Ferrari from such a heavy pour of Campari. The graces of my wife’s lips are just that sweet.