In the beginning, God formed Adam from clay. Dust he was, and to dust he was destined to return. And as a creature of clay, Adam was subject to certain base temptations. Some things he knew to be low, sensual pleasures, yet he indulged them anyway, while his wife shook her head and wondered what went on in that overly hairy head.
I am but a son of Adam, and as such, my friends, there are certain perversities from which I can not free myself.
One of these is the vodka martini.
I know. You thought of me as a cultured fellow, someone who reads the drinks columns and imbibes the wisdom therein. And six days out of seven, I am indeed. But on the seventh day, I take Blue Ice Vodka and pour it into a shaker with two ice cubes and a splash of dry vermouth.
As with all sins, there is at the core of this desire a yearning for the good. (Plato didn't even know what a vodka martini was, and yet he clearly saw this much.) Your correspondent finds himself thinking (perhaps reasonably enough) that fine gin such as Citadel or Bombay Sapphire has so much flavor on its own that adding vermouth to it achieves little. And so people resort to these silly antics such as swirling the vermouth around in the glass and then pouring it out. That may be terribly good performance art for the bar tender, but it is not a mixed drink. It is gin shaken with ice pretending to be a mixed drink. And however pure and unsullied a drink it may be, I cannot bring myself to do it.
No, if I am to have a martini it must have vermouth in it. And if it is to have vermouth in it, then it must be possible to taste the vermouth. And if I am to taste the vermouth, I must use vodka instead of gin. And if I use vodka instead of gin, I shall be that scorned creature: the vodkatini drinker.
And thus I find myself. A flawed man perhaps, but a man who drinks his gin straight, and his martinis made with vodka.
And the toddlers? They're both shaken and stirred.
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7 comments:
Now, now. Don't feel bad. Read Chesterton, who wrote somewhere, as I recall, on the virtues of drink.
I myself like Absolut Citron. But my preferred martini is Beefeater.
It's not the virtues of drink that I despair of, so much as the humiliation of prefering something that goes by as silly a name as: vodkatini.
Ah well, we must each have a few things laughable about us, or what would everyone else talk about?
Yes. My brothers love to tease me about my affection for 'candy-ass drinks' (anything with a maraschini cherry)...
Don't worry, Darwin. Recently I came to a similar realization about drinks. I finally got a hold of Chimay GR. I liked it, but can think of any number of other beers that I'd rather drink...and they're a whole lot cheaper. The latest yummy is Rogue's Mocha Porter. mmmmm
Anyway, as far as base perversities go, I have none...but I sure enjoy those qualities in a woman...
:)
John,
A Manhattan as a Maraschino Cherry, and is far, far away from the realm of candy-assery.
Darwin,
There is no shame in a Vodka Martini. There is only shame in calling it a Vodkatini, as if it were a celebrity couple such as Brangelina.
My father would order his vodka martinis "extra dry," which I imagine the waiter or bartender interpreted as "unscrew cap on bottle of vermouth, wave bottle for three seconds, rescrew cap."
Last night I ventured over to the dark side. After having a gin martini (not dry) on the rocks, I tried a vodka martini after that. I confess: I liked it! (Both with triple olives, for vitamins, fiber, and the good kind of cholesterol.)
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