The Friday Arts Diary

Our cultural picks for the week ahead.

Art

Spread across the city, Edinburgh - Festival Promenade, 2 August – 2 September

All Edinburgh Festival punters soon realise that the main problem facing them is how to use their finite time when presented with the choice of such a vast multitude of shows. One answer is to take part in a Festival Promenade. Led by Artist Anthony Schrag, these walks will take you across some of the city’s historical monuments and public spaces, where a series of renowned artists have been invited to create outdoor art in what is the Edinburgh Festival’s most ambitious commissioning programme to date. Artists include Turner Prize winner Susan Philips, Callum Innes and Andrew Miller. If a walk in a park is too conventional for you, Schrag will also be offering climbing tours, alleyway tours, art pub crawls, and afternoon nap tours.

Film

Curzon Soho, London, W1D – Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry,  10 – 16 August

In Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry journalist and filmmaker Alison Klayman documents the life of China's most internationally revered contemporary artist. From 2008 to 2010, she accompanies Ai at piviotal moments of his work, family life, and political struggle. The resulting exploration merges art and activism in a portrait, not just of one man, but of contemporary China.

Theatre

The National Theatre, SE1 - The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time, 24 July - 12 September

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time is a stage version of Mark Haddon's award-winning novel of the same name, which follows the adventures of an autistic teenager, Christopher, as he tries to unravel the mystery surrounding the death of his neighbour's dog. The play was adapted by playwright Simon Stephens and is directed by Marianne Elliott. The performances of Luke Treadaway, Paul Ritter and Nicola Walker have been described by several newspapers as "stellar" and "poignant".

TV

More 4 - What’s my body worth? 13 August, 10pm

In this age of austerity many are considering alternative ways of supplementing their income, yet few have ventured as far as trying to profit from their own embodiment. In this programme journalist Storm Theunissen explores the ethics, legality and stark reality of the industry which preys upon those desperate enough to sell their body - whether it’s working in the sex trade, or selling bodily materials, such as eggs, fluids and even organs.

Music

Assembly Rooms, Edinburgh - Brazil! Brazil! Presents Latin Live, 2–26 August

The people behind Brazil! Brazil!, who wowed Edinburgh in 2010, return to the festival to get audiences on their feet with favela funk and samba reggae. Acts include Magary Lord, Black Semba and Paloma Gomez. Latin Live promises to be an energizing blend of music, dance and vibrant costumes.

Edinburgh Fringe promoters hold up reflective letters (Image: Getty)
Photo: Tashphotography / Stockimo / Alamy
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The Negroni fools no one – it’s easy to make and contains nothing but booze

It is the colour of danger, a red rag to anyone jaded by cocktail-world bull.

The cocktail is designed to lie about its origins; no wonder it reached its apogee during Prohibition, which forced everyone with an unrepentant thirst to lie about their cravings. Even today, when only extreme youth, religious belief or personal inclination prevents a person from draining the bar dry, the cocktail continues its career of dishonesty. It hides ingredients or methods. It provides a front for poor-quality booze. And it often dissolves, within its inscrutable depths, mountains of sugar, enabling drinkers to pose as sophisticates while downing something that tastes like a soft drink – to get drunk without leaving the playpen.

This is why I love the Negroni, which fools no one. It is easy to make and contains nothing but pure booze. Despite being a third sweet vermouth, it isn’t saccharine: the other two thirds, equal measures of gin and Campari, may have something to do with this. And it is the colour of danger, a red rag to anyone jaded by cocktail-world bull.

They say it was invented in Florence at the request of a Count Negroni, who wanted a drink unsullied by club soda – a drink stiff enough to get a man back on a bucking horse, perhaps, since this Count may have been a rodeo rider. I prefer to believe that the Count, if Count he was, came in, tossed down enough strong liquor to start telling stories about his American adventures, and, when he finally staggered out into the night, the exasperated bartender poured three straight shots into a single glass and baptised this wondrous reviver in grateful homage to the fabulist who had inspired it.

In a former glue factory a very long way from Florence or America, the East London Liquor Company now makes very good gin – Batches One and Two, the former tannic with Darjeeling as well as cassia bark, pink grapefruit peel, and coriander seeds; the latter redolent of savoury, bay, thyme and lavender. Transforming these plants into excellent alcohol seems an improvement on boiling down horses for adhesive, and the company also makes superb Negronis from Batch Two.

We sit outside, in a carpark made marginally more glamorous by border boxes of Batch Two botanicals, and marvel at the transformation of this grimy part of East London, next door to a park intended to give Victorian working men brief respite from lives all too lacking in myth or fantasy. It is a reincarnation at least as miraculous as the transformation of three strong and entirely unalike spirits into the delectable harmony of the Negroni. The sun shines; a fountain plashes. Nuts and charcuterie arrive. All is right with the world.

I leave my herbaceous bower and dangerously pleasing drink for a peek at the large copper distillery behind the bar, walking in past the fountain, a whimsical stone construction that pours vermilion liquid into two, tiered basins topped by a chubby putto clutching a rather reluctant fish.

And then I stop. And double back. Vermilion liquid? It is, indeed, a Negroni fountain. There are even slices of orange floating in the basin. I dip a finger: the taste is slightly metallic but still undeniably that potent mixture of booze, botanicals, bitterness, and just a hint of sweetness. A streak of citrus from the orange slices. It turns out that the world’s most straightforward cocktail lends itself to a decadent neo-Renaissance fantasy. There’s a message here, one forthright as a temperance tract: without imagination, we would have no lies – but no Negronis, either.

Nina Caplan is the 2014 Fortnum & Mason Drink Writer of the Year and 2014 Louis Roederer International Wine Columnist of the Year for her columns on drink in the New Statesman. She tweets as @NinaCaplan.

This article first appeared in the 20 July 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The new world disorder