This is my last column for Half Full. Over the past 5 and a half years, I’ve been fortunate enough to write a large number of them here, on any topic I find interesting. Anything from The important role African-American bartenders played in the development of American brewing; history of America’s oldest whiskey brand, Old Overholt; arrive What is the difference between Aristotelian and Platonic concoctions?; epic, or at least epic long, the story of New Orleans’ oldest bar (in four parts, no less); and a lot more besides that.
History of cocktails, biographies of famous bartenders, appreciation of classic bars, all sorts. But panta rhei, as Heraclitus put it – “all things flow” – and that hasn’t changed an iota in the strange 2,500 years since he said it. All we can do is try to float in that mighty river and hope to drift somewhere interesting, at least for a while. Half Full is somewhere interesting. I’m looking forward to the next shoal.
I will try to come out as helpful as possible. I am not going to launch a lengthy investigation into the origins of rum or try to figure out who invented the Bloody Mary. This is not the time for such things, and besides, at this point in our national dysfunction, the idea of writing such things makes me as tired as the thought of reading them. it has to instill in you. So let me do something simple. Let me show you how to make the best dry Martini you’ll ever have.
Yes I know. But listen to me anyway.
There are two ways a Dry Martini can be great: it can be sharp and notched, a blade of icy liquid cuts through the tough tentacles of anxiety and responsibility and depression pulling the semen. god down and prevent it from flying up. Or it could be what Ogden Nash calls “the mellow, yellow Martini,” where it is a light, elegant and comforting drink; even a sweet (but not sweet) nostalgia. Poetry cut, that means Martini where gin takes a solid lead, and a vermouth is more than just “showing up”.
Both versions can be particularly good. However, ginny can easily turn to taste like rocket fuel, while brandy can sink into water. The best martinis stand in the middle: like a cat’s paws, they are soft and smooth but have a wicked sharp edge. But that needs careful balance, and people worry most about the details of that.
After more than 40 years of drinking dry martinis and at least 30 mixing them with shameful frequency, I believe it’s actually quite simple: if your martini after stirring and filtering ends up being over 32 percent alcohol , it will taste like jet fuel. Now, you might want — need — jet fuel, but that’s a medical judgment, not a culinary one. On the other hand, if it’s below 28 percent, you’ve got wastewater. There are times when the drain is the only thing you think you can handle, and there are times when you just want to put your head down at your desk and wait for someone to bring you milk and cookies. We strive for a more fulfilling life than that.
By the way: how do you calculate the percentage of alcohol in your martini? The recipe is very simple 🙁Style x GP) + (Vu x VP) (tu x 1.25) where Style = the number of gin units in the drink, GP = proof gin as a percentage of ABV (they have to say that on the label), Vu = number of units of vermouth, VP = proof of vermouth as a percentage of ABV and tu = total number of units in the drink. The final figure includes a 25 percent dilution when stirred with ice. Easily. (If you like the so-called “Direct Martini,” where you skip the ice and dilution and just pop the stuff in the freezer—and God help you if you do—just put in x 1.25). Thus, a 3-ounce Martini with 2.25 ounces (3 servings) of Tanqueray Gin (47.4 percent ABV) and 0.75 ounce Noilly Prat Dry Vermouth (18 percent ABV), after stirring with ice, proves expressed at 32 percent alcohol, rounded to small numbers.
I guess I should say you can skip that last paragraph. You can skip that last paragraph.
Anyway, that 32 percent Martini is right at the top of the sweet spot; Where are the cat’s paws located. Take a moment here, to be sure: with a clean, neutral gin you can go up to 33 percent or even a fraction higher before you need to post No Smoking signs, while with a very good gin you can sink to about 26 percent before the algae start to bloom. But in general, the safe range is 28 percent to 32 percent.
How you achieve that safe range is a matter of balance of gin versus ratio. There’s a lot of religion involved in that process, but (as I’ve probably said too often) there are in fact many paths through the woods. Historically, the prevalence of vermouth in drinks has been 1-1, 2-1, 3-1, 5-1 (it’s difficult to mix a standard 3-ounce Martini into a 4-1 to 4 ratio. Americans, jigs aren’t metric, so you rarely see them). For gin-vermouth ratios in excess of 5-1, such as “in and out” martinis (where vermouth is only used to cover the ice cubes in a mixing glass) and 15-1 “Montgomery” Martini by Hemingway, Most vermouth has a negligible effect on the proof of drink (e.g. if you’re using Tanqueray, a spoonful of vermouth, the vermouth in Montgomery will help prove back by only one and a half percent). Lord knows I’ve drunk my fair share of Montgomerys and more of all gin Martinis (the famous 1950s “see through” Martini), but they are pure jet fuel and therefore, as academics say, is beyond the scope of this article.
With a gin on the weaker side (40 or 41 percent), you’ll have to resort to pretty hard proportions if you want to see the cat’s claws. A gin in the 41 percent range, such as Plymouth, Hayman’s London Dock or Sipsmith, will need to be mixed at a ratio of 3-1 (28.3 percent) or 5-1 (29.9 percent) to hit the sweet spot (you can even eat full-on Montgomery without completely escaping it, if that’s your curve). However, when you are at 5-1, vermouth quickly loses its cushioning effect. That effect isn’t just a proof factor; otherwise we will use white port in our Martinis. The intersection of bright, pine and citrusy notes of gin and highland meadow notes of vermouth is what makes the drink a Martini; a unified whole, rather than a collection of parts.
With stronger gin — 44 percent (old British standard for budget gin) or 47 percent (old British standard for premium gin) — you can use more vermouth and still keep be sharp. With a heavy and firm old-fashioned gin like Tanqueray, you can even make a 1-to-1 Martini, which, in equal parts gin and vermouth, comes out just fine (26.1%).
Indeed, that is how it was most commonly done in his youth, before World War I; Those people aren’t that stupid. At 1-1, the Martini may be the most elegant of all comfort drinks, like New York’s pioneer and lament Club Pegu proved many times per night with the 1-1 “Fitty Fitty” piloted by Tanqueray, and if it weren’t for the Pandemic, it would still be.
At 2-1 (30 percent), the way Martinis were often made from the 1910s to the Second World War, and 3-1 (32 percent), there’s still enough vermouth in there to do what vermouth does. do, but the claws are not clear. visual, if relaxed. As long as your gin is classic London dry — juniper and crunchy, not clouded by leftover botanicals — and your French and old fashioned vermouth (Noilly Prat; Dolin dry), then it’s in the micrometer perfect range, especially if you’re tipping some delicious bitter oranges (such as Bitter Truth’s or the 50-50 blend of Fee’s and Regans’ many modern bartenders’ favorite) and twist a thin slice of lemon zest on top.
But in these matters, I’m a perfectionist and I’m totally willing to cheat to get there.
There exists a thing called “Navy Strength Gin.” This was introduced by Plymouth Gin in 2001, formalizing the distillery operation that sometimes bottling their gin with full British proof (meaning 114 American proof, or 57% proof). ABV) to present to various naval vessels stationed at the nearby base.
The name is purely marketing: the Royal Navy never officially buys gin for its sailors, even as many officers use their allotted mess to hoard. their bedroom, and the only wine the Navy bought, rum, was released at 54.5% ABV, not 57 percent. But even with bad history, a good ‘navy’ gin like Plymouth or Hayman’s Royal Dock can make a great martini as long as you don’t skip the vermouth. Brewed at a ratio of 1-1, a gin that is not 47 percent but 57 percent makes for a drink that still takes home with a round 30 percent alcohol content, making it float right in the middle of the spot. sweet.
And if you just cheat a little more and push the gin up and vermouth down a quarter of an ounce each, not forgetting the traditional orange slices and the last lime squeeze, the Martini will test at 32.6% ABV, ie just crossing the border into the fuel country, or would be if you still didn’t have an ounce and a quarter of vermouth there to prepare for the drink’s landing.
This is the best Martinis possible, as Leibniz would say if he were a bartender and not an old German philosopher. If it was him, it should be pointed out, he hasn’t been broken all the time, not if he’s been serving these.
Congratulation!
The Best Dry Martini Possible
INGREDIENT
- 1.75 oz Hayman’s Royal Dock or Plymouth Navy Strength gin
- 1.25 oz Noilly Prat or Dolin Dry vermouth
- 2 dashes Bitter truth Bitter orange
- Garnish: Twist thinly sliced lemon zest
- Glass: Cocktails
DIRECTION
Place all ingredients in a mixing bowl and fill with ice. Stir and pour into chilled cocktail glass and twist lemon zest on top.
