Yesterday, I met an old friend for a few drinks after work. I’ve been so conditioned by the poor quality of drinkmaking around that this exchange with the bartender left me profoundly pleased:
“I’d like a Ketel One martini.”
“How do you like it?”
“Clean, up, with a twist.”
“You got it, Mr. Bond.”
And it was perfect. Tart and refreshingly bitter, not at all sweet, and icy cold.
I’ve had bartenders ask me if I wanted my martini on the rocks. I’ve had them just give me the martini on the rocks, in a highball glass. I’ve had them come out looking green. “No olive” gets translated into “extra olives” too often.
It was great to get the right martini — and to have the bartender know that a vodka martini with a twist was James Bond’s drink from the books.
And here I reveal that I only know "shaken, not stirred". Which is what I say a lot when somoene asks how I am after a harrowing experience….