I grew up with parents that drank martinis – made with gin. I still drink them as does my 91 year old mother. I love that scene in “The Thin Man” with Nora and the 7 martinis lined up in front of her and Nick giving the bartender lessons in making the perfect one. I was very happy to hear this story last weekend on NPR.
Can you imagine James Bond asking for a chocolate butterscotch martini? Or an apple martini, lemon drop martini or prickly pear martini?
Unlikely for the suave superspy.
A martini is certainly more than a drink. It’s long been an embodiment of style and sophistication — and it’s popular again. It’s often served with this sort of unorthodox twist.
Putting a drink in a long-stemmed V-shaped glass does not make it a martini. A martini is this: gin and dry vermouth. And maybe an olive or two. Or a twist of lemon peel. It is ice cold and crystal clear, never green or pink. I don’t begrudge anyone a chocolate-flavored vodka drink. Just don’t call it a martini.
I’m not quite a purist: I like mine on the rocks. And I’m lucky to have married a man who learned to make a martini at the Ritz. We did invent the “Dice-K” (substitute sake for vermouth) in honor of Daisuke Matsuzaka’s first season as a Red Sox pitcher. But I still stick with gin – Plymouth gin.