There are certain questions in modern life we can twist ourselves into a pretzel about: will AI ever be sentient and enslave us all, should you add a splash of milk to a ragù, and what is the true meaning of a “staycation”? (The latter question really depends on what newspaper you read.) But here’s a head-scratcher next time you’re pondering what to order at a bar: can a drink made from one core ingredient be a “cocktail”, and can such a drink ever be worth ordering?
Consider the Campari Shakerato. I first enjoyed this drink a few years ago at Camparino in Galleria in Milan (Campari’s flagship bar located by the magnificent Duomo) and have gradually become obsessed with it, especially as it seems to be taking off in bars across London (or at least, bars that will make it on request).
Something truly magical happens with a Campari Shakerato
Conceptually it follows the same principles as a Caffè Shakerato. In this case, it all starts with about 65-100ml of unadulterated Campari over ice in a shaking tin. Now, this may already be off-putting to some: this vibrant, crimson apéritif, first created by Gaspare Campari in 1860, is most commonly mixed with other spirits and liqueurs to make a whole family of cocktails, each of which have their own fascinating backstories (such as the Americano, and how the soda was swapped for gin to make a Negroni, and then at Bar Basso an accident with prosecco gave birth to the Negroni Sbagliato, and so on). These are all wonderful in themselves, with further variations to discover (such as the Bicyclette/Bicicletta, the Boulevardier, the Cardinale, the Lucien Gaudin, the Mi-To, all probably worth an article in their own right). But Campari performing a solo act, in all its bitter natural glory? Probably not everyone’s cup of tea.
However, something truly magical happens with a Campari Shakerato. When shaken over ice within an inch of its life, then strained and poured into a chilled Nick and Nora (or similar) glass, the resulting drink is really quite astonishing: the shaking process releases the oils and sugars from captivity and it transmogrifies into something lighter and velvety; there is still that trade mark orange aroma but the gentian is gentler and the astringency is toned down. It is surely enough to convert any Campari refusenik.
But is it even a cocktail? Aside from possible additions to a Campari Shakerato (which we’ll come to in a moment – let’s establish our Shakerato 101 first), it lives or dies by one key element, namely Campari (even if Campari is itself a complex and secret blend of herbs and botanicals, though they no longer use beetle dye to achieve that distinctive red colour).
For this definitional test I had to turn to my trusty copy of The Savoy Cocktail Book by Harry Craddock (first published in 1930). While there is some debate about the etymology of the word “cocktail” itself, with some rather frivolous and dubious theories, the book’s introduction posits the view (based on the word’s first appearance in The Balance, an American periodical dated 13 May 1806) that any cocktail is “composed of spirits of any kind, sugar, water, and bitters.” So, an Old Fashioned, which comprises bourbon or rye, ice, Angostura and sugar, easily sails through that test like an open Strait of Hormuz.
In the equally stimulating Liquid Intelligence by Dave Arnold (2014), he defines a cocktail as the triumvirate of “liquor, mixers and ice at 0°C”, before explaining the interesting chilling phenomenon of thermodynamics and how stirring or shaking with ice cubes that start at 0°C can make the drink go sub-zero (and I can think of at least one bartender who stirs martinis with a thermometer to ensure this but let’s not go too off-piste).
On the surface, a single ingredient drink could fail these basic cocktail tests. But bashing bitter Campari against ice in a shaker, coaxing out its inherent sugars and inviting both dilution and aeration to the party, I’d argue it becomes a self-fulfilling cocktail.
Then there’s the theatre of its service. While at home you can definitely shake your own Shakeratos (or is the plural “Shakerati?”), there is something about watching a skilled bartender do this, especially as different types of shaking, and the number of strains, can result in very different serves. Further, this is not, by definition, a drink that can possibly be pre-batched or dispensed; it can only ever be shaken à la minute. And shaken well.
We can get into the fun of variations (e.g. adding Fernet Branca to make a “Ferrari Shakerato”!) but what we all want to know is where you can get a good, classic Campari Shakerato…
Camparino in Galleria (Milan)
Nellie’s Bar at Simpson’s in the Strand (Covent Garden)
Kwãnt (Mayfair)
Where to get a good Campari Shakerato (in alphabetical order)
Here are Palate’s tried and tested bars and restaurants in London (and a couple in other cities) where you can discover the wonder of a Campari Shakerato:
Amaro (Kensington) (pictured above): I love this Italian neighbourhood bar on Kensington High Street anyway but they do a truly excellent Campari Shakerato here, often with a wet and a dry shake so that it is super smooth, and always served with panache.
Bar Nouveau (Paris): this tiny Parisian bar serves a vintage Campari Shakerato using Campari they somehow got hold of from the 1980s. I had one on my last visit to Paris and it blew me away; it’s darker and more complex. It may not always be on the menu but they can probably do it off-menu if you use your best French.
Baudry Greene (Covent Garden): a lovely European café-bar on Endell Street, owned by the same people behind Parsons (opposite) and The 10 Cases (next door) and run by ex-Termini bartenders. Pleasingly they will ask if you would prefer “a single strain or a double strain” when requesting an off-menu Campari Shakerato. This is best enjoyed on their outdoor tables in the warmer months – with a bit of imagination you can pretend you’re on the continent.
Brutto (Farringdon): I was pleased as punch when Brutto officially added a Campari Shakerato to their cocktail menu in 2025 but they’ve been doing them on request for a while anyway. Always a great vibe here and, you never know, you might bump into Madonna…
Camparino in Galleria (Milan): the “OG” Campari Shakerato and most probably the best, especially if you’re lucky enough to enjoy one on their outdoor terrazzo overlooking the Duomo. Heaven.
Henson’s (Soho): unsurprisingly, another Italian-led bar, and one of Soho’s most underrated. It’s not on their official menu but they will definitely make a Shakerato on request. I’ve seen them use a foaming agent before which is technically cheating but the result is certainly very smooth.
Kwãnt (Mayfair): their house Shakerato style is to do a hard wet shake and single strain which results in small particles of ice in the drink for further, gradual dilution as you consume it. They also often add a touch of Mezcal though you can customise it as you wish.
Martino’s (Chelsea): a slightly anomalous one as they add orange juice to their Campari Shakerato which makes it more of a shaken Garibaldi, as well as a bit too brunchy, but I’d recommend this as a gateway to a ‘pure’ Shakerato or for those with a sweeter tooth.
Simpson’s in the Strand (Covent Garden): they will serve a classic Campari Shakerato on request in either Simpson’s Bar (upstairs) or my new favourite underground theatrical den of iniquity, Nellie’s Bar, often with an orange garnish.
Termini (Soho): another Italian bar that will do it on request. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, they will serve it with complimentary chunks of Parmesan.
The Prince (Barbican/Old Street): this fantastic down-to-earth bar which opened in late 2025 (where The Gibson used to be) specialises in martinis, Black Velvets and punch. But they can make pretty much any classic cocktail to order and will happily do a very good Campari Shakerato.
Waltz (Shoreditch): another great new bar (and our best bar of 2025), owner Gento Torigata is a Kwãnt alumnus and so makes his Shakerato the same way (i.e. with a little Mezcal and a single strain).
And any self-respecting bar with Campari on its shelves will do it if you ask nicely. But just make sure whoever is shaking the Campari shakes the living daylights out of it or you won’t get the desired effect.
I’ll finish with Harry Craddock’s words of wisdom about shaking in The Savoy Cocktail Book, which are still relevant today: “Shake the shaker as hard as you can: don’t just rock it; you are trying to wake it up, not send it to sleep!”
Last updated in May 2026.
Neither Campari nor any of the bars / restaurants referred to in this article have provided any incentive or payment to be included. Their inclusion is independent, editorial opinion. And because they’re damn good. Cin cin. (Enjoy responsibly.)
