In the Battle of the Boozes, Aperitifs Hit Below the Belch

When Prohibition ended and bars reopened, America didn't have much of a drink culture, he says: "People were just happy to see boats coming back form England with real gin." Aside from a few old-world niches in cities like New York and Boston, drinkers lost their cocktail knowledge, says Abou-Ganim.

Rousing the Spirit

Today, patrons at Manhattan's Picholine, however, are particularly fond of Dry Sack, a medium dry sherry from Spain's Andalusia region.

I tried a glass, straight, no ice (allegedly a favorite among female patrons) and was surprised by a smooth, dry taste that elegantly maneuvered over my taste buds. At 19.5% alcohol, it didn't blur my vision and left me able to enjoy the hors d'oeuvre afterwards. I sincerely wish this drink would catch on to a wider audience, increasing the chances of a date buying me a fragrant sherry instead of a Budweiser (BUD Quote).

While U.S. sales of Dry Sack, which started out as an aperitif in the 1930s, have remained stable over the years, Joel Gosler, president of Kindred Spirits, Inc., Dry Sack's Miami-based importer, says this indicates a younger generation is coming into the brand from the bottom. As a result, Dry Sack's new campaign will focus on marketing to this hip, more world-wise early 30s set.

Campari launched a similar effort this year in select markets on the East and West Coasts with Aperol, a liqueur which is bigger in Italy than Campari but virtually unknown in the U.S.

"Now [the drink] is more about the journey than the destination," says Abou-Ganim. Aperitif brands are hoping their target demographic will agree as they make a concerted effort to revive the category. As a newly-minted fan, I sip to their health, but, especially in New York, they've got a hearty history of happy hours and super-sized cosmopolitans to break through first.