What Happened to My Martini?

What happened to my Martini?

Being a bartender in a former life I am deeply troubled with some of these new creations, mix-ations, and defamation of some of our old tried and true cock tails.  I was in a bar recently and ordered a martini.  The bartender there, young and cute, various facial piercing, began to rattle off a variety of names, Apple, Chocolate, Pomegranate, Neapolitan…what?  I answered “a martini”, she looked disappointed.

I guess I am just not hip anymore.  Some things are just too good to screw (driver) with.  Vodka or gin, Vermouth, a splash of olive juice depending on your down and dirty likes or dislikes, and the olive itself…Shaken not stirred.  Bond (not Barry, that was another kind of juice)…007, the consummate cat of cool, the original GQ, the Absolute (I prefer vodka) portrait of classy. The martini was part of the personification, part of the package.  I’m all for progress, but in many ways I still old school.  I can’t imagine Sean Connery in that Scottish brogue saying…”martini, make it an apple”.  Not so much, not gonna happen, not in this lifetime.

Hey I am all for new things.  I have a Blackberry, but I don’t want my vodka to taste like it.  I’ll have the pride of Milwaukee; can still enjoy a Rocky Mountain High or a Corona sunset with his or her best Bud. There’s enough parrot head in all of us to believe margarita-ville does exist.  I know the difference between “Sex in the City”, Sex on the Beach and am Cosmopolitan enough to know the difference between a Manhattan and a Long Island Ice Tea.  I know a Whiskey Sour is the complete cocktail opposite of the Lemon Drop (although you wouldn’t think so).  Keep your Alabama Slammers, your Texas Hammers, your Rusty Nails, your Malibu beach house, your Blue Hawaiian, your Colorado Bulldogs, your White Russians, your Fuzzy Navels, your Buttery Nipples (wait…gotta think), your french kiss, your body shot, your half moon, your Mellon Balls, your Captain Morgan, your Crown Royal, your Charlie Daniel’s, your Camelot and Merlot the magician.  Just leave my martini alone.  A little respect please!

For what it is worth drink responsibly.  Live the High Life, but don’t get high to do it.  For the next bartender I meet in a bar and I ask for a “Martini” ask me about dirty, and I tell you a few secrets.  Perfect your mixology, but understand my terminology, shaken not stirred.  Old school and new school can still party together.  Life is a party.  So eat, drink and on the morning occasions have a Bloody Mary, or a Mimosa, may favorite.  Champagne wishes to all.