I LOVE Martinis. In particular, I like pre-Prohibition Martinis that take vermouth seriously and, with bitters, offer an almost endless array of takes on the classic drink, complementing the botanicals in the gin. If eggnogs, flips, punches, and sangarees (stay tuned) are the O.G.’s, Old Fashions and Martinis are not far behind and definitely at the vanguard of the creation of cocktails as we’d think of them today. 

Martinis, for me, are a mood drink. The worse my mood, the drier the Martini (typically 3–5 to 1, though some folks go all the way to 7–1). That said, I just don’t care for a glass of gin that’s been watered down - and to be sure, that’s what a lot of “dry” Martinis are when requested in bars. I think there is quite a bit of social pressure in ordering a Martini (as in, I have to have it dry or I’ll look like a wimp). The VinePair podcast covered some of these issues in the episode “Vermouth’s Great Vanishing Act.” Some people deal with this social pressure by ordering dirty Martinis, which look quite stiff in the glass, but are much less alcoholic than a “typical” dry martini. They also come with a meal of olives (which are stuffed with various accoutrements like pimento or bleu cheese). Others just choke down the glass of watered gin and pretend to like it. I want to taste the notes set off by a good, fresh, or well-kept Vermouth and some bitters. In fact, my favorite relative of the Martini is the Marguerite - you should try it if you haven’t, here’s a recipe.

I glimpsed this Martini spec when looking for pre-prohibition Martinis (I may do a whole series - let me know in the comments if you’d like that). The Educated Barfly covered this particular spec in an Instagram reel. (You should absolutely check out his socials for great drinks and explanations.) It grabbed me, and I suspect him, because it called for this Curaçao rinse. He noted that Gary Regan says it’s the first Martini variation to call for dry gin. I’m excited for this one. 

Thoroughly chill your glass. Place all the ingredients, sans garnish and Curaçao, in a mixing glass. Load the glass with ice and stir until frigid. Retrieve your glass and, using a spritz bottle, add Curaçao. If you don’t have a spritz bottle loaded with Curaçao, you can do a simple rinse of the glass with a bit of Curaçao - say a barspoon’s worth. Fine-strain the drink into your glass.

Orange and clove are a classic, delicious flavor pairing, and it works wonders in this drink, accenting the Orange Curaçao. You’ll flame this in the following way. First, slice your orange disc with a pairing knife. Normally, you’ll want to avoid as much of the white pith on the orange peel as possible. Don’t do that here. Having a bit of white pith helps the disc’s buoyancy in the glass. Then, using tongs or culinary tweezers, hold the disc and, with a match or lighter, gently warm it on the orange side. This will help coax more oil from the disc. Once warmed, express the oil from the disc through the flame of the lighter or match and into the drink. Afterward, puncture the disc in the center and add a whole clove stud. Float the disc and enjoy the warm, orange-and-clove aromas. Slàinte mhath!

Your chief option here is the gin. Any standard London Dry gin, all the way to a floral gin, will work in the drink. Choose something you like to tip. Second, the vermouth. Because we are rinsing this with Curaçao, I think a dry vermouth works well here in terms of balance. But, if, like me, you don’t always want balance, you could use a Blanc Vermouth - Dolin Blanc is my favorite. Blanc vermouth is a tiny bit sweeter than dry vermouth (but not as sweet as “sweet vermouth”) and will play well with the Curaçao and bitters. As for that Curaçao, you could get funky with it and use an Agricole like Clement Creole Shrub or go extra classy with a blood orange liqueur like Solerno (somehow that motif is always just beyond my reach). A lemon twist, expressed, would be just fine, but if you’re an unbalanced person like me, follow my lead above with a flamed orange disc, studded with clove for a sweeter nose on the drink.

I often get asked by friends for advice on a good cocktail to batch. Seemingly, no one thinks of Martinis. And I know why. If your version of a Martini is that described in the introduction - a boozy gin bomb, you really don’t want to batch that and find guests in various states of consciousness and recovery lying all about your house the next morning (ask me how I know). This proper Martini is great for batching. Follow the spec below: combine all ingredients for a quick stir (NO ICE—the filtered water is your dilution), then bottle in a 1-liter swing-top bottle — a 1-quart Mason jar will hold it as well, with just a taste-test left over for your hard work. Place this in your freezer and keep it for a rainy day. No better way to achieve the ice-cold drink expected of a Martini. Simply retrieve it from your freezer or refrigerator, fill your stemware, and add your garnish (whatever you choose, a simple lemon twist works well too). Instant Martini Nirvana.

Oh, and if I wanted a glass of gin, I’d just add some gin to a rocks glass over a large berg of hand-crafted ice — or better for the botanicals, a Brandy Snifter. No need for the pomp and circumstance of mixing. That way, you’d get a slow release of water - strong gin at the outset and increasing in drinkability by the end, just in time to save you from yourself.

This blog is, as always, an opinionated take on drinks.