You Call That A Martini?
Went out to dinner tonight to celebrate my Ma's birthday. Timber Lodge Steak House. The food was serviceable, the service passable if a bit annoying (she must have just completed her "upsell" training). And the Lodge Lager was a perfectly quaffable brew. But the all important pre-dinner cocktail left much to be desired.
I ordered a Martini. With Bombay Sapphire Gin. My father did the same.
What we got was a mess. First off it arrived in a Old Fashioned glass, not the traditional Martini receptacle. A minor point of irritation perhaps, but presentation is part of the package. An important part.
Then there was the ice. I was never asked if I preferred my Martini neat or on the rocks. In my book, there should not even be a choice. While proper Martinis are chilled, they don't come with ice. Ever.
Tonight, mine came with enough ice to sink a ship. Not the Titanic mind you, but it could have caused the Andrea Doria to ease into the water like an old man into a nice warm bath. The problem with ice of course is that it's not in a stable state at room temperature. It has a tendency to be transformed into water rather rapidly. Which leads to the dreaded D word. Dilution. Not in my Martini damnit.
The came the Vermouth. I prefer a whisper, a subtle hint of Vermouth in my Martini. Tonight, I had James Carville like proportions of Vermouth in my Martini. Loud, obnoxious, and in my face.
Worst Martini ever? Probably not. Worst Martini in many a year? Definitely. Chances that I patronize Timber Lodge again any time soon? Slim to none.
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