A marble bar table with a glass of red vermouth over ice with an orange slice and an olive, an open tin of cockles, anchovy-stuffed olives, a bowl of potato chips and a bottle of Espinaler sauce

The Vermut Hour Guide: Spain's Sunday Aperitif

Published 9 Sep 20265 min read

Filed under Tinned Fish Espinaler Torres Catalonia

On Sundays in Barcelona, before lunch, people head out to make vermouth. The Catalan phrase is fer un vermut, and it does not mean mixing anything. It means going to a bar, or gathering at a friend's table, for a glass of vermouth and a spread of small salty things before lunch. Nobody hurries, which is the point.

The vermut hour travels well, because it requires no cooking, almost no equipment, and a pantry that fits in one cabinet: tins, olives, chips, a sharp sauce and a bottle of something cold.

Where it came from

Vermouth is wine fortified with spirit and flavored with wormwood and other herbs and botanicals. In Turin in 1786, Antonio Benedetto Carpano created the first commercial vermouth. It is an aperitif in the literal sense: aperitif comes from the Latin aperire, "to open."

Vermouth reached Catalonia in the late nineteenth century, when the first producers set up in Reus, south of Barcelona, and within a few decades the town had some thirty vermouth makers. Distillers in the Reus region have blended fortified white wine with sugar, herbs and botanicals, wormwood among them, for more than a century. The drink settled into the hour before the long midday meal, traditionally on Sundays, as a way to open the appetite.

The habit fell out of fashion in the 1970s and 1980s, as drinkers switched to beer and wine, and came back in the 2010s, when a younger generation rediscovered the vermouth hour and a wave of new Spanish vermouths followed.

What is in the glass

Vermouth, over ice or straight up, with a slice of orange or a green olive, sometimes with a splash of soda. That is the whole recipe. Traditionally it was poured from a tap, and the most basic accompaniments are olives and potato chips.

If you are not drinking, the tradition adapts easily. The bitterness and the cold are what matter. A zero-proof aperitif (the non-alcoholic drinks guide) over ice with orange, a sparkling tea (the Copenhagen Sparkling Tea guide) in a short glass, or plain soda water with a squeeze of lemon all do the job.

What is on the table

Olives. Always. One option is the green olive stuffed with anchovy, a style Espinaler packs (shop Espinaler anchovy-stuffed olives). The complete guide to olives covers the rest.

Chips. Salty potato chips, eaten by the handful. Torres, a Barcelona-area chip maker founded in 1969, makes an extra virgin olive oil chip (shop Torres extra virgin olive oil chips). Try a chip and an olive together.

Conservas. This is where the vermut hour becomes serious food. Tins of cockles, mussels in escabeche, tuna and anchovies belong on the bar. Eaten straight from the tin with a fork or piled on a chip, they make the hour generous without making it a meal. The Conservas de Cambados guide and the razor clams guide cover Galician shellfish. Portuguese sardines (the José Gourmet sardines guide) are equally welcome.

The sauce. Espinaler's sauce (shop Espinaler sauce) is a sharp, thin dressing of vinegar, red paprika, black pepper and spices. Espinaler says it began in 1896 as a tavern in Vilassar de Mar, up the coast from Barcelona, serving wine and vermut to the town. The company dates the sauce to 1952, when Ventureta Roldós, wife of Joan Tapias, created it. In the 1970s the family began selling Galician shellfish conservas under the Espinaler name. Shake a few drops onto a cockle, a mussel or a chip.

Ham and cheese. Cured meats and hard cheeses are part of the bar spread too. A few slices of jamón (the jamón ibérico guide) or a wedge of Manchego round out the table, but they are optional. Lunch is still coming.

Bread. A few slices of toasted bread rubbed with tomato and drizzled with olive oil (the olive oil buying guide), if you want one cooked thing on the table. It takes three minutes.

How to host one at home

Set the time. Sunday, one o'clock, or Saturday at six if lunch does not suit. Tell people it ends when lunch begins and that they are staying for lunch, or that it ends at three and they are not. Both are correct.

Chill everything. Vermouth, sparkling tea and soda all go in the refrigerator the night before. Fill a bowl with ice. Put out short glasses, not wine glasses; the vermut is a tumbler drink.

Open the tins at the table, not in the kitchen. Two or three tins feed four people: one shellfish, one anchovy, and a sardine or mackerel as the third. Put the tins on small plates with forks, lemon wedges and the Espinaler bottle. The olives go in a bowl with a saucer for pits, the chips in another bowl, the bread on a board. Do not plate anything.

Pour. Vermouth over ice, an orange slice or an olive on a pick, a splash of soda if you like it lighter. Sit down. The host's job is done. The dinner-party pantry guide covers what to keep on hand so that this can happen on a whim, which is how it should happen.

The etiquette

Eat from the tin. Share everything. Take one olive and one chip at a time, and do not ask what is in the sauce. Order another round if the conversation is good. If someone brings a tin you have not tried, open theirs next.

The shop is at 263 Josephine Street in Cherry Creek, Denver, and products ship across the continental U.S. from theambrosianpantry.com. Sunday at one.

See also: Spanish food gift ideas, with a vermut-hour set to give.