In praise of the perfect apérative
The eminent mixologist David A. Embury once wrote that “[i]t is hard to conceive of any worse cocktail monstrosity than the Vodka Martini”. That sounds harsh, and it is. I would say that, if one is making the effort to mix a martini for oneself, that’s pretty good! But for Embury, the martini was “the most perfect apératif cocktail ever invented”. It was not something to be meddled with.
I love martinis and I tend to agree. Although I take a slightly less zealous stance than Embury (I have used vodka to boost the alcohol content of my own martinis) his wisdom is undeniable. Vodka is flavourless. So a vodka martini will only taste faintly of the vermouth. A complex, aromatic gin, on the other hand, will subtly suggest all sorts of flavours.
I do not drink martinis every day, but I am always happy when I have time to enjoy one. My reasons for loving them include some of Embury’s sensible reasons. For one thing, as an apératif, a martini stimulates one’s appetite. It does not satisfy it with sugary syrups. For another thing, martinis have a nearly instantaneous “reaction time”. The way that the body processes them, combined with their high alcohol content (about 40%), “gives fair warning to the drinker not to take too many.”Simply catching a whiff of a martini reminds one not to stand near any open flames for a little while.
To those reasons I add two more. First, martinis are quite tasty. Stir them until they are ice cold and discover the delicate and fleeting flavours beyond the chill. I especially enjoy the experience of chasing the vermouth’s sweetness as it sinks to the bottom of the glass. That motivates me to drink up before the martini warms to an unpalatable volatility. The lemon spritz is also an essential and sanctifying detail. The bright citrus aromas are like sunlight sparkling in ice crystals on a frozen lake. They enliven what can otherwise be an austere first sip.
The second reason I love martinis is that they cannot be rushed. They take time to prepare and they take time to drink. Assembling one’s shaker, chilling one’s glass and carefully measuring out one’s libations requires determination and focus. Stirring the mixture gently, so as not to bruise the flavours or cloud the drink, is an exercise in restraint.
Slicing a thin curly cue of lemon peel and twisting it over one’s glass also calls for attention to detail in the presentation. These deliberate actions are ritualistic. They force one to stop what one is doing and to clear one’s mind. To prepare a martini is to break with one’s day—to step outside the chaos and to make a promise: the promise of respite.
Due to martinis’ rapid reaction time, one fulfils that promise as soon as one takes a sip. However, drinking a martini is more than an elegant introduction of alcohol into one’s bloodstream. Everything about the experience encourages relaxation. Martini glasses, with their wide rims and sloped sides, spill easily. So it is best to settle into a comfortable chair while settling into one’s drink.
The sheer potency of these cocktails also demands slow, considered sips. This reality creates a more contemplative moment than one would normally have with a drink. One watches as fine condensation slowly frosts the glass. One sees the convective microcurrents stir the drink’s surface. One allows oneself to drift away. It is a marvellous escape.
There is a strong element of self-care to a Martini. It takes time and effort to make one; it takes time and significantly less effort to enjoy one. That is time that you could, no doubt, spend doing something else—perhaps, something productive. I believe there is value in setting aside time for oneself. By doing so, one recognizes one’s self-worth.
A martini’s few ingredients also reaffirm one’s worth. Because they are few, they stand out. Choosing high-quality ingredients is critical to creating a pleasant and interesting flavour. Thus, drinking the occasional martini is a good reason to splurge on a gin that one would not drink every day. Remember, you are worth it.
What, then, makes a great martini? Embury’s perfect martini is dry. It contains seven parts of English dry gin and one part of Lillet vermouth (3.5 ounces of gin to 1 ounce of vermouth). Stir those ingredients with ice and strain the mixture into a cold martini glass. Serve with a bold twist of lemon.
Cheers!
