Summer Cocktail Recipe: Campari Mojito

What do you collect when you travel? I have an acquisitive soul; linens and tiny ceramics and jewelry get squirreled away in my bags on every trip. But I’ve found that the best souvenirs of travel are the lightest to carry. When I travel, I look for new things to learn, like the soufflé I picked up in Paris, and the duck magret in Nice. My husband and I have also acquired cocktail recipes quite often in our travels, and I hardly need to tell you that these are my favorites.

Two summers ago I picked up a new one, a very summery cocktail from an unexpected place. It’s a fizzy concoction of mint, lime, rum, and a hit of grapefruit from my favorite neon orange bottle. It’s a little sweet, a little bitter, and totally, totally refreshing. This is my cocktail of the summer, folks.

This recipe is a mash-up of places and influences, and it doesn’t easily betray its origins. Italian Campari, the Cuban mojito, a tall glass of ice. Can you guess where I learned it? In a swanky little bar at the top of the National Portrait Gallery in London. That’s right — a mojito on a chilly day, under a gray sky in England.

My husband and I were in the middle of a long day of trekking around the city, jet-lagged and a little footsore. London was a madhouse, with German fans of two soccer (ahem — football) teams in town for the Champions League Final that day; Trafalgar Square was a mob of beer-drinking, flag-waving, red-hat-wearing fans who looked dressed for a Quidditch match as much as a football final.

We squeezed into the last places at the little bar at the top of the Portrait Gallery, after an hour wandering through Elizabeths and dukes. You never know, dropping into a museum cafe, what you’ll find. Will it be overpriced and underwhelming? Our bartender dispelled our concerns quickly, serving me up a delicious sip of red currants and Champagne, and talking my husband into a Campari mojito.

I was initially dubious; as much as I love Campari, a mojito sounded like it could be sickly sweet and unbalanced. But the drink was perfect and shockingly good — a huge glass of crushed ice, with handfuls of muddled mint, a float of tonic water, and a sharp, tangy edge of grapefruit Campari.

I slipped out to go to the ladies’ room and muttered to my husband, “See if you can get the proportions.” I’m never sure with bartenders whether they will hold their recipes close to the vest, or share them.

I came back and my husband held out a little slip of receipt paper, grinning. Sure enough, the bartender had not only shared, but written down the recipe in a scrawl we took back home and deciphered carefully.

A little tricky to make out, right? I couldn’t quite get the third ingredient, but assumed it was white rum — until realizing that it’s probably actually white sugar. The drink seemed sweet enough already, however, and I like the extra kick of rum, so I let my improvisation stand.

We’ve been sipping this drink ever since our trip, enjoying its fruity fizz, and the memory of refreshment on a gray day in England.

You don’t have to travel the world to meet the Campari mojito; let it come to you. Hop in the hammock with one in hand; you’ll be glad — I promise.