The New York Times had a gin comparison in their dining section today. Evidently they tried eighty gin martinis between four people. I like those odds. But even better was this well-made point:
“Before we discuss the findings, though, we need to clear up a little matter. It’s come to my attention that some people believe martinis are made with vodka. I hate to get snobbish about it, but a martini should be made with gin or it’s not a martini. Call it a vodkatini if you must, but not a martini. Gin and vodka have as much in common hierarchically as a president and a vice president. Vodka can fill in for gin from time to time and might even be given certain ceremonial duties of its own, but at important moments you need the real thing. Vodka generally makes a poor substitute for gin in a martini or any other gin cocktail.”
Hallelujah, brother, Testify! I hate to be redundant when ordering, but with the vodka craze—that thankfully is ebbing—I have to order a “gin” martini, so I won’t get the bastardized kind. Luckily gin is coming around again, the NY Times article lists a great many that I have not tried. But I will, oh yes, I will. First one I will try is Plymouth, which they think is the best for a martini.
A side note: I’m very cautious when ordering a martini. I go by a couple of rules.
“Before we discuss the findings, though, we need to clear up a little matter. It’s come to my attention that some people believe martinis are made with vodka. I hate to get snobbish about it, but a martini should be made with gin or it’s not a martini. Call it a vodkatini if you must, but not a martini. Gin and vodka have as much in common hierarchically as a president and a vice president. Vodka can fill in for gin from time to time and might even be given certain ceremonial duties of its own, but at important moments you need the real thing. Vodka generally makes a poor substitute for gin in a martini or any other gin cocktail.”
Hallelujah, brother, Testify! I hate to be redundant when ordering, but with the vodka craze—that thankfully is ebbing—I have to order a “gin” martini, so I won’t get the bastardized kind. Luckily gin is coming around again, the NY Times article lists a great many that I have not tried. But I will, oh yes, I will. First one I will try is Plymouth, which they think is the best for a martini.
A side note: I’m very cautious when ordering a martini. I go by a couple of rules.
Really good-looking bartender = I order a beer. Usually these guys and gals are hired to be eye candy, and have not learned the finesse of mixing. There are always exceptions, but beware.
Also, Irish/English/Scottish pubs = I order a beer or a scotch. When in Rome, or Dublin…
Dance clubs = puh-leeze; they don’t even carry cocktail glasses. It’s beer or a vodka and cranberry juice.
The best place for martinis are hotel bars, lounges, or punk clubs with rockabilly bartenders. Hotel bars with their starched shirts and inflated prices are pretentious but they do mix well, especially if there is an old timer behind the bar. Lounges can be hit or miss, but at least they try. Rockabilly bartenders are very proud of their martinis and they are usually great.
Even so bartenders still shake a martini. I don’t know about bruising, but I don’t want to see ice shards in my martini. A martini should be pure, like a calm lake. It is a preview of how my soul will be after the imbibing. Drinking is not just taste and smell; it is visual (and it is aural when you clink someone’s glass in a toast.). See, don’t get me started on martinis. Shesh.
The best place for martinis are hotel bars, lounges, or punk clubs with rockabilly bartenders. Hotel bars with their starched shirts and inflated prices are pretentious but they do mix well, especially if there is an old timer behind the bar. Lounges can be hit or miss, but at least they try. Rockabilly bartenders are very proud of their martinis and they are usually great.
Even so bartenders still shake a martini. I don’t know about bruising, but I don’t want to see ice shards in my martini. A martini should be pure, like a calm lake. It is a preview of how my soul will be after the imbibing. Drinking is not just taste and smell; it is visual (and it is aural when you clink someone’s glass in a toast.). See, don’t get me started on martinis. Shesh.
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