And here it is, the 14th instalment of your most favourite series. Let’s get down to business:
This, Ladies and Gentleman, is the perfect Martini. At least when it comes to being true to what creating a Martini is all about. Which would be to create the perfect Martini, of course.
As you can see, the garnish is a lemon twist, which according to this book my girlfriend gave me for my birthday, was the original garnish (and not the olive, which was introduced a while later and led to a lot of scoffing by Martini-purists).
I also used Dutch gin this time, which is said to have a fuller flavour than London gin. I must say, I think it was one of the best Martinis I’ve had to date.
It’s been awfully quiet round here lately, which fortunately is not due to me losing my limbs in a horrible freak-accident, but mainly due to my preoccupation with things not more important, but certainly more pressing.
Nevertheless, here’s another installment of my ‘tini Chronicles (‘tini, as compared to Martini, is the way actual cocktail-insiders talk. Or it’s the way idiots talk, I haven’t quite figured that out yet).
I saw the above mixer-set advertised in the Sunday papers. It was really cheap, and since I don’t adhere to the saying that those who buy cheap, buy twice, I went and bought the set. I’m now in the fortunate position to be able to stir my Martini with a professional stirring spoon, which you may think is not much different from any other long-stemmed spoon, but you’re wrong. It’s actually got the pictogram of a Martini-glass stenciled right into it. What better way to stir your Martini than with a spoon that’s totally in the spirit of the whole venture?
And, if you compare images of earlier Chronicles, you’ll notice that the new shaker is of elegantly crafted metal, which lies in stark contrast to my first shaker, a stylish but yuppie-ish white plastic thing. Not that I didn’t like it! I’ll hold it dearly in my heart for the rest of my life for being the tool that helped me lose my cocktail-virginity, and maybe, in the years to come, I will dig it out again and use it just for old times’ sake.
In the end, what I prepared was a strict 2:1, dry Vermouth, three Olive-Martini. I think I noticed a slight metallic taste during the first sip, but that could have been mere imagination.
Equipped with Bombay Gin,
Noillit Noilly Prat (edit: did I actually misspell that? I’m such a chump!) did I and a solid Single Malt, I yesterday added another chapter to my glorious Martini Chronicles. Have a look:
What you see is a variant of the Dusty Martini. While the original Dusty substitutes Vermouth with Scotch, I added the Scotch after mixing a 2:1 Dry Martini. The effect was a Martini that had lost most of its bitter edge and instead had most of the sweet Scotch flavour.
It’s definitely a good Martini variant, even though it doesn’t resemble the original Martini Dry a whole lot. Which, in the end, is not really a problem, because all I and probably everyone else wants, is a damn good drink.
With the advent of the Bombay Sapphire Gin, I also introduced a new way of chilling the Martini glasses to perfection:
I looked up that technique from a pro barkeeper demonstrating the preparation of a Martini Dry on the Bombay Sapphire website itself. Unfortunately I can’t link to the exact page, mainly because some weird law forces commercial websites featuring alcohol or tobacco to verify the visitors’ age. Which is done by entering your birth-date. It’s a fool-proof system really.
Now, here’s the important bit: did the Martini actually taste better that way? Well, technically, it didn’t. But drinking a Martini is a lot, A LOT about the manner of preparation. The drink itself? Not that important. Which means, the more elaborate the method of preparation, the better the drink. And in that light, yes, the taste was fantastic!