Chinotto: Italy’s Bitter-Sweet Soda with a Story to Tell

There are tastes that stay with you, not because they are easy, but because they are layered and complex. Chinotto is one of them. Dark and mysterious in its glass, it looks like cola but gives you something entirely different the moment it touches your tongue: a rush of citrus bitterness, herbal whispers, a sweetness that arrives late, almost shy.

The fruit behind it, Citrus myrtifolia, came to Italy centuries ago by way of sailors who carried trees from faraway China. It found a home in Liguria and Sicily, and eventually in soda bottles across the country. By the mid-1900s, brands like San Pellegrino and Chin8 Neri had bottled that strange fruit into a drink that was proudly Italian, proudly not-Coke, proudly itself.

When I first tried Chinotto in Milan in 2019, I was reminded of an earlier encounter I’d had with Orangina back in 2004. Orangina was joyful, sparkling with citrus pulp — a little sunny celebration in a bottle. Chinotto, though, was its moody cousin: sharp, bitter, but intriguing, like someone who doesn’t reveal their whole story on the first meeting. My friend had told me it was special, even rare, and sipping it on a Milanese afternoon, I understood why.

Chinotto has had its ups and downs. Once Italy’s “national soda” in the 1950s, it nearly disappeared under the global tide of sweeter drinks. But in recent years it’s been quietly finding new fans again. Heritage movements, Slow Food projects in Liguria, and a new interest in complex, less sugary flavours are bringing it back to tables and aperitivo hours. Today, you’ll spot it in bottles from Lurisia, San Pellegrino, or Neri, each slightly different, some herbal, some more citrus-forward, but all unmistakably Chinotto.

And while you can order it online or track it down in specialty shops abroad, there’s something different about drinking it in Italy. The bitterness feels balanced by the place — the salty air of the Ligurian coast, the aperitivo hour in a Milan café, the easy pairing with salty snacks or a slice of focaccia. It tastes like heritage in a glass, a reminder that sweetness isn’t the only way to enjoy life — sometimes the bitter leaves the sweetest memory.