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What leads me to believe this is the popularity of the Dry
Martini. In fact, the dryness of the Martini is such an issue
that some people ask for a Very Dry Martini, in that the bartender
is supposed to whisper "vermouth" into the shaker.
Ha ha. What so many don't seem to understand about this (or maybe
they do) is that what you are in fact ordering are a couple shots
of gin or vodka in a fancy glass with an olive in it. All that
really seems to make a Dry Martini a "Martini" is the
use of the Martini glass. I prefer the classic ratio from It's sad that the Martini has become more of a status symbol
than an enjoyable cocktail. What makes the whole thing The Saddest
Affair Ever is the fact that the best drink I ever had in a Martini
glass was a Manhattan, in a bar in Cambridge, MA, served by a
fellow we referred to as "Monkey Boy" for what you
can imagine are very obvious reasons. I suppose the sight of
brown liquid in a Martini glass must have been very confusing
to the patrons. I confess, I did not mean to take a stand on
purpose. Monkey Boy made that decision for me. As I previously
confessed, I am not a badass. The irony here is that a Manhattan should be served in its very own glass, known as the Manhattan glass. Unfortunately, the Manhattan glass doesn't have as marvelous a press agent as the Martini glass, so it's not as notable with the hepsters. It was good enough for Dean Martin to use on his stationary, though, and he was a badass. I think there's a lesson in that for all of us.
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When modern hepsters order a Martini,
I don't think they necessarily want a Martini. I think what some
of them really want is a Martini glass. You can go ahead and
pour Mello Yello into it - - it's the glass's streamlined design
perfection and its intimation of detached noblesse oblige that
said person wants.
the
1930's - three parts vodka to one part vermouth. A Wet Martini,
as they say. This makes a cocktail which is neither vodka nor
vermouth. This makes a Martini. The best Martini I ever had was
in a plastic cup, with a twist of lime, made by a woman named
"Ma," in a wonderful one room establishment in Savannah,
GA. I didn't have a Martini glass to announce to the room that
I was drinking a Martini, so it was imperative that I really
enjoy the cocktail. I guess it's like the difference between
being an artsy badass rebel and just getting most of your face
pierced so you merely resemble one. Not that I'm a badass, or
anything, I just like a good Martini.
