Cynar (the correct pronunciation lies somewhere between chee-nar and shee-nar) is a bitter apéritif of Italian origin, akin to Campari and Aperol. (As it so happens, Gruppo Campari acquired Bols’ Italian holdings in 1995, and now owns all three of the apéritifs, as well as others.) The claim is that the beverage is made with “13 herbs and plants,” but no one seems to know, or care, what the first twelve are. All of the corporate branding relishes in the drink’s use of artichoke as an ingredient, from the picture on the label to the eponymous reference of the plant’s taxonomical name, cynara scolymus.

Somewhat confusingly, there are actually two products called Cynar (with near-identical labels) on the market: the ricetta originale (original recipe) and a newer reformulation. My first experience of the artichoke liqueur was with the reformulated version. Upon learning of the original, my expectation was that it would be drier and more bitter, but surprisingly, the products have about the same level of sweetness and bitterness.

When sipping Cynar neat (in either of the incarnations), it first hits your tongue with a taste reminiscent of a lychee fruit, if you have ever bitten into one to break it open and caught the bitterness of peel along with the syrupy flavor of fruit’s flesh. That might not sound terribly appealing, but the apéritif is actually only about as bitter as its fluorescent cousin, Aperol, and makes for a surprisingly versatile cocktail ingredient. Using it as a substitution in any drink that calls for Campari or Aperol usually yields gratifying results.

Beyond the initial impression of lychee, the flavor profile takes on a more herbal, vegetal character. Oddly, there are times when I am able to detect the artichoke’s contribution, but at other times it seems to disappear entirely. (I have no explanation for this phenomenon.) The original recipe has a slight nuttiness not present in the sequel. Unlike Lillet, Amer Picon, or the various other ingredients that have seen shifts in formulation over the years, Cynar doesn’t have a bevy of classic cocktails dependent upon the original profile, so don’t fret too much if you are only able to find the newer one. Both versions are excellent products, and I have no strong preference for one over the other. If you find you like one version, you will probably enjoy the other as well, and may even find it worthwhile to stock them both. That said, I’ve never found the old and the new in the same store, or for that matter, in the same city. I am not sure if this is some consequence of our country’s rather Byzantine liquor distribution system, or simple misfortune. Either way, happy hunting.

The cynaceous liqueur still sees most of its consumption in Europe, where it is typically served over ice, with soda and lemon, or mixed with beer. It was popularized in the ‘60s by a series of commercials produced by the relatively well-known (in Italy) director, Ernesto Calindri. For better or worse, one of the more popular of those TV spots was given a “modern” remake in 2007. (If you don’t have a high tolerance for camp, skip to the drinks.)