Cruising is a double-edged sword. One of the things I like most about cruising (well, the two cruises I’ve been on, anyway) is also one of the things I like least. Cruising give you an opportunity to see many different places, and you only have to unpack once. Huge plus for me. But (and it’s a big but), you are never in a place long enough to truly get to know it. Huge minus.

So, when it comes to drinks culture – finding good things to drink that tell you something about a place (its people and culture) – cruising is not the way to go. Adding to the dearth of culturally representative drinks on this trip: when your daughter has the ick for six days, you lose out on a lot of drinks exploration.

Alas, we soldiered on.

Here is my drinks culture report (all the things we drank – good and bad) from our mother-daughter Mediterranean cruise:

Water From Nasoni in Rome

Rome has a whole legion of public drinking fountains (2,500 of them) scattered around the city. They are called, nasoni, or “big noses”, named for their curved spouts. The city government installed them in the 1870s as part of a push to provide the city with clean water. The water itself comes directly from the mountains around Rome, and is pumped in via ancient aqueducts, some dating back to the days when togas were de rigueur.

We were assured by our guide (several times) that the water is completely safe to drink. My first thought: you want me to drink water that’s traveling through 2,000 year old plumbing? But, we saw tons of people drinking from the fountains or using them to refill water bottles. I was still skeptical, but it was 100+ degrees in Rome, and we were going through water like crazy. So, I took a deep, when-in-Rome breath, and used the fountain for a refill. The water was surprisingly COLD. And really, really good. And we didn’t get sick (at least not that day), so call it a win.

PSA: The Trevi Fountain is not a nasoni. There are signs posted (acqua non potabile), warning you not to drink the water. Because you know someone did. Instead, you can download this app and see where all of the nasoni in Rome are located.

Welcome Champagne

When we arrived on board the Explora II, we were greeted by an army of staff walking around with trays of Champagne. Don’t mind if I do. Then, when you get to your suite, there is a whole bottle of “welcome Champagne” on ice, waiting for you. Explora II’s house Champagne is Mercier Brut, which is a mid-level offering from Moët Hennessy. It’s decent and drinkable, but not going to blow anyone’s socks off. Still, we popped it open – because we were feeling fancy.

Welcome Wine & Spirits

Also waiting for you in your suite: welcome wine and spirits. The wine offerings were a bottle each of Mouton Cadet Bordeaux and Rosé. We didn’t crack either one.

Mouton Cadet is one of Bordeaux’s most recognizable and widely distributed wines, created in 1930 by Baron Philippe de Rothschild, to be a more approachable, everyday wine. Like the Explora II house Champagne, it’s decent and drinkable, but at the end of the day, it’s a mass-market Bordeaux, and not something I’m drinking if I have a choice.

Enter the choice.

Our suite also came with a “welcome bottle” of spirits. Our suite host asked us if we would prefer a bottle of Cognac, gin, or bourbon? Please, not even a question. Bourbon. Was surprised it was bourbon and not Irish/Scotch whiskey/whisky. Was even more surprised when she showed up with a full size bottle of Buffalo Trace – not an exceptional bourbon, but damn solid. And way better than mass-market Bordeaux. Huzzah.

Spritzing

We, well Anna, really, did a lot of Aperol Spritz-ing on this trip. The Spritz is everywhere in the Mediterranean. I almost don’t want to drink it anymore because the vapid social media “influencer” crowd has nearly ruined it with all their posing and posturing. A shame, really, because I’m usually solidly Team Spritz. But it was so freaking hot on this trip, if I had a lunch beverage, it was usually a local beer (wines by the glass aren’t usually worth drinking). Plus, I like to tell myself beer is at least a little bit hydrating. 😉

That Weird Water in Naples that Made the Worst Lemonade Ever

One of the few truly cultural drinks we tried (and why food tours are always super high on my list of things to do). Limonata a Cosce Aperte, or open legs lemonade, is made with this special water (see photo below) that smells like eggs (sulfur). We watched the shopkeeper prepare the drink: squeeze fresh Sorrento lemons using an ancient juice squeezer (it doesn’t taste right if you use a modern juice squeezer), add egg water, then stir in teaspoon of baking soda. The baking soda reacts with the lemon and causes a violent eruption which you are supposed to drink as elegantly as possible before it all splashes down between your “open legs”. The combination of fresh lemon juice (citric acid) with sodium bicarbonate (baking soda) is supposed to be a natural digestion aid.

It’s a double-whammy drink. First, you have violence happening in your mouth, and then you realize sulfur lemonade doesn’t taste good. It’s not for me. If I want to aid digestion, I’ll stick with schnaps. It would take me a long time to acquire a taste for this lemonade.

The Negroni

On this trip, I introduced Annaliese to the pleasures of one of my favorite cocktails – the Negroni. And when she wasn’t making a dash to the bathroom for unspeakable reasons, I’d like to think she started to appreciate them.

A Negroni is a three sip drink. The first sip is straight up rude. On the second sip, you start to think you might have been wrong about the first sip. And the third sip is transformative. Now you’re hooked.

The Negroni is a perfect balance of bitter, sweet, and botanicals. It was first created in Florence in 1919 by a local count, Camillo Negroni, who got bored with his regular drink – the Americano (Campari, sweet vermouth, and soda water) – and asked his bartender to jazz it up a bit. So the bartender swapped out the soda water for gin, and voila – the Negroni.

The Old Fashioned

The Old Fashioned is one of my favorite (and go-to) drinks. Our ship had a dedicated cigar and whiskey bar with extremely competent bartenders.

The Old Fashioned is often hailed as the original cocktail, with roots tracing back to the early 19th century, long before mixology became a thing. The recipe blueprint is simple – spirit, sugar, water, and bitters. It became so standard, that by the 1860s, bartenders began unnecessarily complicating drinks with all kinds of extra and unnecessary ingredients. In response, traditionalists started asking for cocktails made “the old-fashioned way,” and the name stuck. It faded somewhat in the mid-20th century, but it roared back to popularity in the 2000s. We can thank Mad Men’s Don Draper for that.

Lemon Drop Martini

This is my guilty pleasure. Pictured here with one of Anna’s Aperol spritzes.

The Lemon Drop (vodka, triple sec, fresh lemon juice, and simple syrup) was invented in the 1970s by Norman Jay Hobday, the flamboyant founder of a San Francisco bar called Henry Africas (it went out of business in 1986). The Lemon Drop doesn’t have the gravitas of a Negroni or the Old Fashioned, but every once in a while? Mmmm. Mmm. Mmm.

Wine

We drank a sum total of three wines on this trip. A paltry effort, honestly.

On our excellent food tour of Naples, we were given a taste of Aglianico – a full bodied red wine found almost exclusively in southern Italy. This one was legit terrible. Tasted like it had been open for weeks and/or roasting in the Napoli sun. A shame, because Aglianico is one of southern Italy’s oldest and most noble red grape varieties. It has a reputation as the Barolo of the South for its deep color, grippy tannins, and exceptional aging potential. What we tasted was more akin to the Barefoot of the South.

In Carloforte, Sardinia, Anna and I shared a bottle of local rosé at a cafe. We didn’t realize when we sat down that this particular restaurant was seafood only. I don’t eat much seafood since Covid wrecked my palate, so we did the Euro thing and had wine and (not fish) snacks. The rosé was exactly what a rosé should be – fresh, lively, and most importantly, cold.

While Explora’s wines by the glass offerings were perfectly okay, they were by no means exceptional. Explora had some outstanding (even iconic) wines available, but only by the bottle. On our last night, we had reservations at the steak house restaurant on board. So, to celebrate Anna finally being rid of the ick (and eating and drinking normally again), I ordered us a bottle of Antinori Pian delle Vigne Brunello at dinner. Delicious. Reminded me how much I enjoy a good Brunello.

Granita

We learned about this cultural delicacy in Sicily. And holy YUM where has this been my whole life?

You might be thinking, so it’s a Slurpee. Or a slushy. Or worse, one of those rainbow colored, rock-hard snow cones we got from the ice cream truck as kids.

Granita is in a class of its own. While slushies are made in a machine and flavored with sugary syrup, granita is made from hand-shaved ice and flavored with real fruit juice.

Sicilian granita is more than just a refreshing treat, it’s a centuries-old tradition that traces its roots to Arab rule in Sicily during the 9th century. Who is flavoring ice in the 9th century? The Arabs, apparently. Only they were flavoring snow from Mount Etna. They would store the snow in deep stone pits called neviere for use during warmer months. (I have no idea how it didn’t melt during the summer.) The Arabs also introduced key ingredients that would become central to Sicilian cuisine and the foundation of the traditional granita: citrus fruits, sugarcane, almonds, and jasmine.

We looked for granita everywhere after that day. Found a few slushies masquerading as granita, but nothing even remotely as good as the Sicilian version.

Fanta Limón

Every time I’m in Europe, I’m on the hunt for Fanta Lemon. I love it, and we can’t get it in the US, so I have to binge when I can.

During World War II, US trade embargoes cut off Coca-Cola’s syrup supply in Germany. Faced with shutting down or improvising, local manager Max Keith turned to wartime scraps like apple waste and whey. In 1940, he whipped up a new drink: Fanta. The name came from Fantasie, the German word for “imagination”, which was a lot more palatable than garbage water.

After the war, Coca-Cola took the brand back, swapped out the dregs for actual fruit flavor, and turned Fanta into the sunny, orange icon we know today.

Fanta Limón came later, with Spain and Italy leading the lemon charge in the 1960s and ’70s. Unlike hyper-sweet American lemon-lime sodas, European Fanta Lemon is much lower in sugar, and even slightly tart.

Ugh. Why can’t we have nice things in the US?

Mint Tea

In Tunisia, mint tea is a deeply rooted ritual of hospitality. It traces its origins to the 18th and 19th centuries, when green tea arrived in North Africa through trade with the East, particularly the Ottoman Empire. It’s made by combining green tea with fresh mint leaves and sugar. It’s strong, sweet, and delicious. Mint tea is how Tunisians welcome guests, seal friendships, and sell rugs.

To wit, we were offered mint tea at a rug store in the ancient Medina of Tunis. It was presented as “hospitality tea”. And while delicious, it was also the prelude to some seriously high-pressure, tag-team, rug sale pitches.

Coca-Cola

I’m not much of a Coke drinker – at home or when I travel. But let me tell you, this Coca-Cola Original Taste situation I had in Florence might be the best Coke I have ever had. It was 42°C outside, which converts to 586°F. I was about to wilt at our table. And this glorious Coke arrived in a tiny glass with six precious cubes of ice. I parked my portable fan in front of my face had myself a Coke and a Smile.

The Homemade Radler

Drank quite a few of these while reading on our balcony during our isolation day, and my “keeping an eye on Anna” days. Will never be as good as a Munich Radler made at the tap, but a decent substitute.

And that’s a wrap on drinks culture – everything we drank on our Mediterranean cruise.

Cheers!