14-04-2025
Looking for an aperitivo in Milan? Here are the city's best bars.
A good spritz is a moment; a great one is a memory. Aperitivo stems from the Latin aperire, which means "to open." And in Milan, you can open up to new experiences, flavors, and unexpected friendships. This pre-dinner ritual is less about sips and bites than taking your time and witnessing the city at its best.
If you want to find the best spots, ask a bartender. These unsung alchemists—twisting, muddling, and doling out liquid magic—know where Milan's best-kept secrets lie. Let them be your divining rod to the city's best watering holes; a world where every cocktail is a manifesto.
On the lively banks of the Naviglio Grande canal, BackDoor 43 stakes its claim as the world's smallest bar. With room for only four people at a time, this intimate hidden gem can be booked for a 90-minute souse amid apothecary relics. Then there's the alfresco twist: A tiny outdoor window which shoots open to offer takeaway cocktails, transforming the whole city into an open-air bar.
Two disembodied hands offer up a negroni del marinaio, a heady mix of coffee liqueur, Bitter Fusetti, vermouth, and mezcal. A masked bartender appears at the window, scribbles our next destination on a napkin and passes it over like contraband.
In NoLo—North of Loreto—a trendy, multicultural neighborhood once filled with singers and vagabonds alike, Silvano Vini e Cibi Al Banco pays homage to the eponymous song by Enzo Jannacci. Hanging green lamps illuminate paint-cracked walls and a long stainless steel bar, while a retro TV plays 70s Italian classics.
Once an old bakery, head chef and owner Vladimiro Poma inherited its oven and it's now the heart of everything they do—comforting sausage ragu served with fresh baked bread, beef carpaccio with puntarelle and anchovy sauce, melt-in-the-mouth lingua in panettone with confit onions.
Over their cocktail maison—dirty negroni with a dash of olive juice—Poma explains 'I wanted to do something for the people. To create a space for everyone.' Amid the city's constant notes, aperitivo here lets you savor the moment before the next adventure calls.
Guided by Poma's directions, one finds Enoteca La Botte Fatale, drawn like a moth to its neon lights and lively outdoor chatter. Throngs of people spill out of this no-frills haven, where wall-to-wall shelves cradle vintages and vini sfusi ("loose wine") can be bought by the liter. Drinkers perch on wine crates outside, while the bar is flanked by monolithic tanks, making liquid itself the decor.
French-British owner Thomas Ferembach celebrates natural, small-producers alongside gastronomic pop-ups. Tonight, a cheesemonger peddles his wares atop a wine barrel, delicate storico ribelle made from raw cow's milk. True aperitivo culture isn't about pristine presentation—it's messy, unpolished, and deeply communal. With a glass of inky red wine in hand, the next bar recommendation is quietly passed along.
Club Giovanile is a resurrection. This former 1920s slaughterhouse exudes raw, ruin-bar grit, yet it's unmistakably Milanese in its swagger. Neon pink and deep red hues—a cheeky wink at its bloody past—are set against polished steel and exposed concrete. The place is filled with psychedelic sounds of live improvisation project Pretty/Groovy. It invites a lot of questions.
'We're purposefully vague on how we write our menus," grins general manager Kevin Ballarin. 'It's really an invitation to start a conversation'. He slides over a Porco Rosso cocktail—peated whisky, Oloroso sherry (with a nutty, raisin-like allure), and Bitter Fusetti—which hits like a bolt.
Milan's SouPra district (named for South of Prada), in the shadows of Fondazione Prada, is where urban sprawl flirts with the countryside. Lubna takes its name from the iconic cyberpunk heroine, and channels her spirit into a space that's at once grounded in tradition and fearlessly experimental.
You're pulled into its orbit by cool dark tones, crackling open flames, and a sweeping nearly 50-foot (15-meter) counter where you can enjoy drinks and dinner. The 16 signature cocktails are divided into four categories: Highballs, twists on classics, non-alcoholic, and grilled. You can taste the fire in your glass: Notes of charred bananas, smoked oils, and seared lemon grass.
'Our goal is style with ease,' Lorenzo Querci tells me, one of the founders of Lubna and its Michelin-starred sister-space, Moebius. 'For me, aperitivo is about finding a home outside your house'. Accordingly, the space has its own piazza, ringed by the Scaramouche art gallery and MC Magma event space. It's a place that invites people to gather, connect, and collide.
Venezuelan-Italian maestro Giovanni Allario orchestrates the cocktails, serving me his own pesto-martini creation (vodka infused with pesto, bianca vermouth, a dash of balsamic vinegar and fresh basil) with Parmesan on the side.
Bar Basso is a cultural institution. Famed for that 1972 happy accident which gave us the negroni Sbagliato (when Mirko Stocchetto mistakenly poured Spumante instead of gin), more than 50 years later it's still a magnet for locals, fashionistas, and tourists alike. Now run by Mirko's son, Maurizio, he's kept the same approach.
'We don't focus much on trends,' Maurizio remarks under a neon glow, 'it's the people's bar—it's a neighborhood. We keep our doors open from 9 a.m. until 2 in the morning, to serve real people.'
Inside, old-school charm abounds: Wood-paneled walls and chandeliers that hang over shelves of Milanese bric-a-brac. The signature negroni Sbagliato—cocktail royalty—arrives like a sunset in an oversized chalice, designed by Mirko himself to accommodate ice cubes once cut from massive slabs.
Rupert Clague is a director, producer, and writer drawn to extraordinary people in unexpected places. He's filmed with Indigenous Peruvian tribes and Vietnamese shamans, been on ride-alongs in Arizona and down a waterslide with Jeff Goldblum. Based in Paris, he's currently directing a feature documentary about transcendental pianist Lubomyr Melnyk.
