Bitter-sweet symphony: vermouth is more than just another cocktail ingredient

There’s depth and nuance to this fortified wine that’s worth its own moment in the spotlight

I like to think of vermouth as the Nile Rodgers of drinks, a backbone of good times known more for big hit collaborations than for its solo work. It is a foundation of any self-respecting cocktail cabinet (though it should be kept in the fridge), and also a family of drinks with many individual talents, which are now at long last being more widely recognised – Waitrose’s most recent Food & Drink report even touted vermouth as a 2026 trend, with searches for the stuff up by 26%.

A fortified wine that originated in 19th-century northern Italy, vermouth is most associated with western Europe, but these days it’s produced in or close to many wine-producing regions across the world. It is made by aromatising a base wine with botanicals – traditionally wormwood, from which it takes its name (wermut in German), but also gentian, citrus peel, herbs, spices and others – before that’s bolstered by grape spirit or brandy, generally taking the ABV to between 15% and 18%. This is a gladiator of a wine: it has brawn, but also plenty of complexity.

And yet, historically, its complexity has been chronically underrated. A vermouth is usually identified simply by its colour and/or dryness, rather than by its unique tasting notes. I only started to appreciate its nuances when I lived in Spain, where a vermut arrives on the rocks, singing from a tumbler with just a simple orange and olive garnish, which allows you to taste something of the base wine with which it started, the flavours of the botanicals used and/or the cask in which it might have been aged. A side-by-side tasting of Atamán and Golfo – both imported to the UK by Brindisa, and very different beasts, made respectively with palomino (sherry) grapes in Jerez and old vine tempranillo in Ribera del Duero – is a case in point.

The old-school vermouth brands are usually a bit woolly about grape varieties. Noilly Prat and Dolin, for example, two French vermouths from regions known for their viticulture, use unnamed local grapes. Meanwhile, brands such as Cocchi from Turin, where vermouth production first began, are explicit about the varietals, denoting a sense of craft and regional flair; its Vermouth di Torino Extra Dry uses cortese grapes (those used in gavi wines), and there’s moscato in its sweet red vermouth and nebbiolo in the Barolo Chinato, which has notes of cardamom and rhubarb. In much the same vein, winemakers such as Matthiasson in the Napa Valley have in recent years released vintage craft vermouths with named grape blends and homegrown botanicals such as cardoons.

As a general rule, I don’t keep any vermouth that I wouldn’t as happily drink on the rocks as in a cocktail. I always have a bottle of good dry (not extra dry) white vermouth on the go for martinis and a sweet-bitter number such as Cinzano Rosso for negronis or as a digestif, to bookend an evening as naturally as a Nile Rodgers LP.

Six vermouths to excite the tastebuds

Martinez Lacuesta Vermut Blanco £16.99 (750ml) NY Wines, 15%. The perfect dry white vermouth, best for a martini.

Atamán Vermut £38.25 (1 litre) Brindisa, 17%. A long-aged, complex vermouth from sherry country. Delicious with nuts and salty snacks.

Cinzano Vermouth Rosso £11 (750ml) Ocado, 15%. A cocktail classic that’s a must-have in negroni, but it’s just as happy on the rocks, perhaps with tonic.

Vault Aperitivo Forest Red Vermouth £42 (750ml) Forest Wines, 16.6%. Craft red vermouth made in London using British wine.

Dolin Chambery Dry Vermouth £12.50 (750ml) Waitrose Cellar, 17.5%. A favourite with bartenders, this delicate white vermouth is made with alpine wine.

Matthiasson Vermouth No 5 £49 (37.5ml) The Good Wine Shop, 17%. Spicy, nutty and made with a blend of aromatic grapes grown in California. Not one for mixing!