Please drink Risico-ly: stiff drinks and manliness in Fleming’s booziest short story
No sooner has Bond arrived in Venice than he’s hitting the watering holes. Bond works his way up from a favourite haunt of Ernest Hemingway to the finest the floating city has to offer. And then the real drinking begins. But what do the drinks that Bond chooses reveal about him as a man?
‘Please drink responsibly’
As regular readers will know, I appreciate a well-made beverage. However, I am also well acquainted with the consequences of drinking to excess. I have known, loved and - sadly - lost people who found themselves sliding irrevocably into drinking as a form of self-medication.
It’s important to talk about these things. Denial costs lives. And if you are struggling with drink dependency, I recommend this website: https://www.drinkaware.co.uk/
Let’s be clear: this is not a moralising piece which will make you feel guilty about reaching for the Campari on a weekday. Quite the opposite. For what it’s worth, my own personal credo is this: quality of drink always trumps quantity. The short story Risico represents a mixture of both, with the scales tipped towards quality. I hope you enjoy this celebration of a drink (or two) well made.
City of liquors
James Bond usually enjoys a train journey, almost as much as he enjoys a drink. Bond likes trains even though the villains are somewhat inclined try using their choo-choos as operatic methods for murdering him and/or the girl who happens to be on his arm at the time (see: Fleming’s Diamonds Are Forever, The Man With The Golden Gun).
But let’s be honest: of these two threats - trains and drinks - it’s the drink which is far likelier to do in James Bond in the end.
Risico features Bond’s most miserable train journey. The seats are too small for him to be able to spread his big, manly, British legs and it’s such a bumpy ride that he - tragedy of tragedies! - spills his Chianti. No wonder he needs a proper drink once he arrives at his destination: Venice.
Ah Venice! Bond arrives from the other direction (the train station in the North). This is the scenic route.
Although it faces considerable competition from the novels, the Venice-set Risico is the booziest of the short stories. Admittedly, the Octopussy story, being Fleming’s most incisive treatment of alcoholism, gives it a run for its money. But for the sheer variety of drinks crammed into its forty or so pages, Risico cannot be beaten. And the crucial difference is that drinking in Risico is presented as being rather fun, without the guilt which is attendant in some of Fleming’s other works. Bond doesn’t even get a hangover, which is a minor miracle considering how much he imbibes.
Fleming was inspired to travel to - and write about - Venice because of his passion for a novel by Thomas Mann: Death in Venice. Mann lived to the ripe old age of 80 and was not especially troubled by drink, although he had more than his share of demons. Mann was only open about his homosexuality in his diaries, although he did channel some of his struggles - perhaps as a form of therapy - into some of his works, especially the book so admired by Fleming: Death in Venice. The story concerns a dying man falling in love with a much younger man and despite there being no overtly gay content in Risico, Bond is positioned as the plaything of two older men, Kristatos and Columbo, each of whom wants Bond to kill the other, so perhaps it’s there in the story’s DNA. There are certainly traces of the insecurity and shame which lead people - often men trying to live up to some impossibly masculine ideal - into self-destructive behaviours such as heavy-drinking.
It’s worth saying again: I don’t for a moment want to ruin anyone’s appreciation for booze. The different drinks are one of the things I love most about these books and films. Risico especially emphasises quality of concoction over quantity of alcohol, at least in the first half of the story. Drinking in Bond is a fantasy as much as anything else, like Bond’s smoking. It’s highly circumspect that a secret agent could stay at the top of his game while keeping up a 70-a-day habit. Similarly, would you really want to down so many spirits before leading a raid on an enemy warehouse, as happens in the finale to Risico?
Fleming was not a fan of doing anything in moderation, famously declaring that “I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them” and dying at the age of 56. A contemporary of Fleming’s, Ernest Hemingway, was not much older, dying a couple of years prior to Bond’s creator. Hemingway ended his own life after a significant decline in his mental health. A lifetime of excessive drinking may have contributed - or been a form of self-medication.
Thrice is the only way to drink
Fittingly, perhaps, Bond’s first stop on his solo pub crawl around Venice is one of Hemingway’s favourite haunts: Harry’s Bar. Perhaps in homage to Hemingway (or Fleming’s gay pal Somerset Maugham, who was also a regular patron), Bond is posing as a “prosperous writer who lived high and well” and he throws “thousand-lira notes” around like nobody’s business. Clearly, even in the early 1960s when Fleming wrote the story, Harry’s Bar was somewhat overpriced.
Although I have been to Venice three times in my life, I have only visited Harry’s once. Admittedly, the first time I visited Venice, I wasn’t of legal drinking age. But even on my second visit as an adult, in 2017, I didn’t feel the need to even stop by for a quick one en route to St. Mark’s Square. On my first - and to date only - visit I found it to be extremely austere and devoid of atmosphere, to the point that it was almost utilitarian. Or, to use another word that should always be written in inverted commas: ‘manly’.
It seems likely that Harry’s perceived manliness is what Hemingway liked about it, or professed to. For some, Hemingway epitomises ‘a man’s man’. Sadly, in real life he felt great shame about his queerness. In both his sexual orientation and gender identity he felt an acute mismatch between what he showed the world and what he truly was. Having to present a hypermasculine image to the public took a great toll; even more so than James Bond and Ian Fleming, Hemingway drank heavily to make life more bearable.
I greatly admire Hemingway’s works but his real life story is a cautionary tale. If ever a student asks me about whether they should read Hemingway, I always say yes but warn them that they shouldn’t be foofled by the posturing which we would recognise today as toxically masculine. And anyone who is visiting Venice I urge not to be swayed by the Hemingway connection if they plan to visit Harry’s. By all means have one drink to say ‘I’ve been there’, but don’t bother staying for a second round. I’m not alone on this: for what it’s worth, the current Trip Advisor rating is not favourable and the consensus is that the place has rested on its laurels and reputation.
There are plenty more bars in the lagoon, as they say.
There’s a hint in the story that Bond (or Fleming, who visited himself as part of his 50th birthday trip across Europe) may feel the same way about Harry’s as I did; he quickly moves on without a description of the place. Bond ends up flitting between Florian and Quadri, the bars which flank the sides of St. Mark’s Square.
Map copyright Google Maps. My highlighting.
Of Florian and Quadri, Florian is the one Bond returns to the next day for an Americano, which in the earlier books is one of his favourites. Bond also imbibes Americanos (Campari, Italian vermouth and soda water) in the novels Casino Royale and From Russia With Love. In Risico, Fleming doesn’t have Bond pass any comment on the Americano and its potential connotations. Although interestingly, in From A View To A Kill (a short story in the same volume as Risico), Bond has reservations about its manliness. In that story he declares it to be the “least offensive of the musical comedy drinks”. This always smacks to me of Bond protesting too much: he’s worried about what people will think of him if he’s seen drinking an Americano, a beverage made without a ‘hard’ spirit base. It’s also worth noting that in From A View To A Kill (which is set in Paris) Fleming informs the reader that Bond is a regular patron of that city’s Harry’s Bar, which he makes a beeline for whenever he needs a manlier “solid drink”. Oh James Bond, you fragile creature!
Why the change of feeling towards the (underrated, IMHO) Americano? Perhaps it reflects Fleming’s own tendency to favour the harder stuff as his years wore to a close - or his wish that he could have more of the harder stuff as his doctors increasingly forbade it.
Fleming enjoyed his time in Venice and so Bond is shown to be quite at home there too, especially in the ostentatious, ‘feminine’, Florian and Quadri. Quadri even earns the adjective “admirable” from Fleming.
Quadri could be glimpsed behind Daniel Craig in the 2006 Casino Royale if there weren’t hundreds of people in the way.
Having sampled both Florian and Quadri for myself, I would tell anyone who only has enough time in Venice to visit one of them to head straight to the Quadri. Florian is lovely but Quadri is better for people-watching with more expansive views of the Square. Perhaps my impression of Quadri is influenced by the circumstances of my first visit to Venice: it was the first trip abroad I took with the man who, four years later, would become my husband. And although at the time I had forgotten that Bond goes there in Risico, we both enjoyed making up espionage-infused backstories for the people we watched while sitting at Quadri, particularly the live music ensemble who, we convinced ourselves, had once been a crack team of assassins and were now hiding out as musicians, playing for tourists while trying not to fall out with each other - and into each others’ beds. Sounds a bit weird now I’ve typed it out. You had to be there.
Neither place is cheap, but unlike at Harry’s Bar, you feel like you’re (close to) getting your money’s worth.
Your author - in a Quadri (although the focus is St. Marks Basilica in the background)
A view from Quadri: My husband (the main in the purple shirt, not the waiter in the white tuxedo). On the opposite side of the square: Florian.
I can’t recall what we ordered to drink, but there’s a strong chance it was Negronis, our favourite cocktail. At the risk of sounding like a Hemingway/Bond hypocrite who is trying to prove something, a Negroni packs a punch. We had our first Negronis in Venice as it happens and developed a taste for them that has endured. Fortunately, it’s become increasingly easy to get hold of a Negroni in the UK, even if it’s not on the menu. I fully realise I’m in danger of sounding like a snob who would give Ian Fleming or James Bond a run for their money here, but anyone can mix a passable Negroni with the bare minimum of direction: stick equal parts dry London gin, Italian vermouth and Campari in a glass with ice and stir. Simple. Just don’t try bossing around a bartender using the patronising method Fleming advocated or you may get a literal punch rather than the alcoholic variety.
In essence, a Negroni is just an Americano with the water swapped out for gin. That’s allegedly the drink’s origin although, as with most cocktail histories, take it with a dash of bitters. (A middle ground is a Sbagliato, with the water or gin replaced with Prosecco - it’s also incredible. It’s just a shame Bond never orders one.)
Considering that the Negroni is such a ‘solid’ drink, it’s amazing to me that Bond doesn’t order them all the time. But the only Negroni he orders is at the beginning of Risico, where it is positioned as the more ‘masculine’ of the drinks alongside his contact’s order of an Alexandra, a combination of “cream and vodka” which Bond derides as “feminine”. Kristatos’ drink of choice should tip us off that there is something not quite right about him and it should come as no great surprise that he was the villain all along.
But such scenes appear throughout Bond. Even when Bond’s other male drinking companion isn’t ‘bent’ like Kristatos is, whenever two men order drinks, Bond always has to ‘out man’ the other with his choice. This is setup from the off, in Casino Royale, where Bond positions himself as the man of the relationship, ordering Leiter’s whisky for him before going on to declaim the recipe for his famous Vesper Martini, a drink Leiter brands a ‘Molotov cocktail’ compared with his own (comparatively demure) Haig & Haig on the rocks.
When Bond comes face to face with Risico’s Columbo, the other man vying for his affections, the larger-than-life smuggler is wearing only a “tiny red bathing slip”. It’s not clear whether his tinky trunks make him more or less of a threat, or more or less of a man. Bond seems to be both amused and intimidated. To earn Bond’s trust, Columbo plies him with booze. He offers “gin, whisky, champagne” but Bond fixes himself a scotch and soda. In all fairness, Bond has just woken up after being concussed, so he’s taking it cautiously. But just in case we start thinking Bond’s losing his masculine pre-eminence, Fleming describes the scotch and soda as a “stiff” one.
Bond is quickly won over by a man who allows him to choose his own booze. There’s no threat to his manliness there. Columbo goes on to load up everyone - including Bond - with “hot coffee and rum” before they head off on a dangerous, piratical mission. And when the mission is completed, during the debrief they enjoy a breakfast of “fried eggs and bacon washed down with hot sweet coffee laced with rum”.
Drinking scenes are undeniably fun to read in any Bond story but most of all in Risico. Although taken as one, the quantities would not be recommended by any health authority I know (the recommendation in the UK is no more than 14 units a week), the main action of the story takes place over the course of four days, with three days spent in Venice, so it’s not as liver-worrying as elsewhere in Fleming. It’s like a fairly boozy holiday for Bond. And the quality of the drinks, especially the cocktails, cannot be denied.
Denial is dangerous. My advice: order whatever drink takes your fancy and don’t worry about others thinking it’s not manly enough. Cin cin!
Licence To Queer features dozens of cocktail recipes, including:
The ‘Risico’ Negroni: https://www.licencetoqueer.com/cocktails/risico-negroni
007’s mistake (a Sbagliato by any other name): https://www.licencetoqueer.com/cocktails/007-mistake
You may be interested in this podcast which features my husband and me talking about some of our holiday adventures while imbibing our favourite drinks. In our very first episode we make an Aperol Spritz cocktail (Venice in a glass!) and in the second we dine out at an Italian restaurant and order Sbagliatos.
https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/have-husband-will-travel-and-talk/id1562734764
Photos of Venice: author’s own
