A Martini Primer
A miasma has enveloped Canal street. Those turned by the night air dance between mania and euphoria, their softened brains possessed by the spirit. Projected from open windows, and empty streets the tenebrae of the beguiled echos from block to block. Efforts in limiting public functions brought down by the magistrates office to curb the spread have failed, with some theorizing the push to homes has provided more fertile grounds for transmission. The visible signs of affliction remain ever present. Cellphones hidden without a care for recovery, wallets left unattended, a subtle dew on surfaces that if left alone can colonize a table. These are all symptoms, among many others, of martini-derangement syndrome.
Grief subsides, sorrows are soothed, viruses are treated, but this particular affliction can only be allayed. And so I write this not to suggest abstinence, but education. If you must give in to the bite of the martini then seize that presumption of sophistication, let it drain the light from your eyes as the sun sets around you, and embrace life’s complications it reveals. H.L. Mencken called it “the only American invention as perfect as the sonnet,” and I hope what follows works to preserve the past, and gives promise to the future.
Dually associated with both Hemingway and the Fordist dream, it was thought to have died with them. Just as the origins of the martini are steeped in mythology and religion, the source of it’s revival is such another mystery. I am not here to theorize about either, but those who want to speculate can do so far from me. What is very real, is the martini in front of you. Whatever it may be, however which way you choose to adorn that moment’s chosen ratio of vermouth and gin, never apologize for your preference as its form is a matter of your individual conscience alone. The only crime you can commit is born from apathy.
Notice the condensation - that all encompassing frost that first begins to form when the glass is removed from the freezer. When properly stirred with cracked ice the liquor when poured should appear almost oily - with weight but neither slushed or watery and weak.. Have you recognized Dickens, with an olive or twist? Whether pitted Spanish Queens, peppered Manzanillas, or buttery bleu Castelvetranos are your olives balanced above the glass, or have they been submerged prompting a quick rescue? Professional drinkers insist on three sips to the bottom. Those that want to maintain a semblance of dignity may ask for the olives on the side. Their choice of dinner deserves recognition. Gaze into the basin. Is it clear, or has the invitation of olive brine made it opaque? Do you prefer your waters brackish or purely Atlantic? Bring the glass to your nose. Although not too close to sea level because alcohol is of little use to us inhaled. Orange, lemon, genver, bitters? The time for analysis and contemplation is now, before the first sip because soon those dated skills will be of no use.
Now drink.