My search for the perfect Italian aperitivo in Verona

I arrived in Verona, I admit, without a particularly clear idea of what aperitivo meant. In Italy, the ritual – broadly, a drink and something small to eat before a meal – speaks a different dialect in every city.

Milan has turned it into a polished after-work institution. In Venice, it is more itinerant: an ombra (a small glass of wine) along with a cicchetto (a bite-size snack) and then on to the next bacaro (one of the city’s traditional wine bars). Verona follows another logic.

Veronese wine writer Angelo Peretti has described the osteria (the traditional tavern at the heart of the city’s drinking culture) as a Verona institution: somewhere its social life takes shape over a gòto (the local word for a glass of wine), usually with something small to eat at the counter, often while standing.

I thought I understood. Then, at about 9.30am one morning, while drinking coffee opposite the Teatro Filarmonico, I noticed that aperitivo had already begun without me. A woman ordered a bianchetto, a small glass of white wine. A couple, already defeated by the heat, asked for two spritzes. Two friends shared a bottle of sparkling wine.

Nobody had announced that it was “aperitivo time”. More strikingly, nobody seemed to find any of this unusual.

That was when my search really began. I decided not to look for one type of bar, or even one type of drink. What mattered was whether I would actually stop there for an aperitivo – alone, with friends or simply while waiting for dinner.

Caffè Monte Baldo

At Monte Baldo, which opened in 1909, the counter was still being set up, with a man I took to be the owner assembling the day’s tartine (small open sandwiches with various toppings). A very young waitress offered to help me choose a wine. There were more than 30 wines by the glass, mostly priced between €5.50 and €11. I chose an alta langa, a traditional-method sparkling wine from Piedmont, partly because the bottle was still unopened. They opened it without hesitation.

With lunch ahead, I ordered two tartine: baccalà mantecato (Veneto’s creamy stockfish spread whipped with olive oil) and boiled egg with anchovy. Both were excellent: fresh bread, generous toppings, clearly just made. The tartine cost €4.60; the wine €7.

As I was leaving, a man walked in carrying a motorcycle helmet. Before he had time to order came the question: “Your usual?” However many tourists pass through Verona, somebody still has a usual.
8.5/10

Antica Bottega del Vino

This is one of Verona’s great wine institutions. I arrived before 7pm, as the tartine counter was being filled. The mood was formal: staff in crisp uniforms and a queue of slightly bewildered tourists. With one person serving, it moved slowly as he explained the wines, €3 tartine and where to eat them – at the bar, at small indoor tables, or outside.

I chose an €8 glass of franciacorta, Lombardy’s traditional-method sparkling wine, with two tartine: pancetta coppata (cured pork neck wrapped in pancetta) and gorgonzola cream. Both were generously topped, though the bread, while perfectly decent, wasn’t anything to write home about. Total: €14.

As I drank, nearby tables were laid for dinner and reserved signs appeared. I asked whether I should move. “Absolutely not.” Those few aperitivo tables, I was told, stay for drinkers unless the place is exceptionally busy.
6.5/10

Tor-Tor

A sommelier I trust at one of Verona’s grander restaurants sent me to Tor-Tor, perhaps revealing more interest in wine than in the finer points of aperitivo. Still, it seemed worth a punt. Tucked down a side street behind the Arena, every outdoor table was taken; inside, a regular occupied the counter, deep in wine talk with the owners.

The blackboard and a small wooden menu board revealed a serious selection of natural wines, with plenty from Veneto. I went for a €7 orange wine – white grapes fermented in their skins – which came with popcorn, then added two €2 polpette (small savoury balls, one meat, one aubergine) plus €1.50 olives dressed with oil and chilli.

The polpette did the job nicely; the wine was excellent and expertly recommended. The crowd was overwhelmingly local, and the regular at the counter was still talking wine when I left.
8/10

Osteria Ai Preti

Just across the Adige river in Veronetta, on the edge of Verona’s main tourist circuit, Ai Preti feels like a neighbourhood local. It is large, with dark wood throughout, and has the sort of retro look that comes from never having tried to look retro.

Two counters divide the food between cold tartine and hot snacks. I chose one with baccalà mantecato, another with caramelised onions, and a horse meat polpetta. Tartine cost €2, the polpetta slightly less; with a €4 glass of wine, the whole aperitivo came in under €10.

By 7.45pm, both displays were almost bare, although my polpetta seemed freshly cooked. The crowd looked entirely local, paying far more attention to one another than to the labels. Magazines lay around for anyone drinking alone. Here, aperitivo felt like the working day quietly unwinding.
7/10

Velvet

I was early for dinner. The restaurant next door was still closed and I had half an hour to kill. Filling the gap before dinner is, after all, the primary function of the aperitivo.

Velvet occupies part of a 15th-century palazzo. There is a handsome counter with stools, though I chose a small table. Three nearby tables were already occupied by a more dressed-up crowd than I had encountered in Veronetta, drinking and talking without much hurry.

There was plenty of wine on the list, but I went for a €12 negroni. It arrived with fried plantain crisps, cashews and little savoury pastries with tomato – at no extra cost. A separate food menu offers more substantial bites, including edamame falafel and chicken wings.

By the time I’d finished my drink, the restaurant next door was open. Half an hour neatly accounted for.
8/10

Osteria da Morandin

Morandin was the only place I visited twice. My first visit was almost accidental – a glass of wine became dinner – so I returned a week later, just before 9pm, to make sure I hadn’t simply got lucky. On paper, its long afternoon closure, from 2.30 to 7pm, had been my only doubt.

It was another punishingly hot evening in Veronetta. Every outside table was taken and the fans inside did little more than move the heat around. I was wearing absurd red-and-blue striped trousers. A man I took to be one of the owners, there as a customer, noticed our near-matching trousers and came over for a high five. “They say we look like we’re in pyjamas. They don’t understand fashion.”

Wines run from €2.50 to €6 and, even at that relatively late hour, the cicchetti display was the fullest I had seen: battered vegetables, frittata, prawn skewers, €1.30 meatballs with tastasal (seasoned pork mince) and €1.80 tartine. I chose a durello, the crisp local sparkling wine from the Lessini hills, a meatball and a tuna-and-egg tartina.

The waiters were run off their feet; regulars greeted one another and foreign voices were scarce. Fifteen minutes later, I asked about dinner. “Full.” Ten minutes on, a table appeared. Aperitivo had not replaced dinner; it had made staying for it irresistible.
10/10