martini etiquette

It is the height of rudeness to mistreat a martini, that most delightful of things- a conversation between the bass notes of gin, the hushed treble of the vermouth and the moment’s frisson of a pimento-stuffed olive. Depending on the bartender this conversation might end with the vermouth jumping up to slap the face of the gin. But when its done right the gin is a deep- voiced man murmuring in one’s ear, the vermouth is a breathless ‘yes’ and the plump olive, drenched in flavour, is that first moment of flirt…

To go out and drink a martini should be done with a sense of occasion, of almost formalised pleasure in the culmination of moments that have taken you there.
It is not downing ten of them. It is dressing up, putting on French perfume, sitting in a darkened below- street club and listening to that other interplay of elements, the musical conversation that’s jazz.

Perfume, like martinis, is not for drowning one’s sorrows, but rather a hushed conversation on the skin between the bass notes (woods, musks, herbs, resins) mid notes (florals) and top notes (florals and fruits) I’m a public servant! I can’t afford to wear Dior couture but thanks to duty free shopping I can and will wear the scent. So there I am, smelling like a good Librarian should, supping on my hopefully perfect drink

Some people say about martinis- "I don’t get it”. Some people say that about jazz too.
To them I say try again, somewhere better, because it can be that good! When I hear a double bass solo evolve into a crackingly hot drum solo I YELL! And have been unfortunately known to even yell GO CATS GO (which is sadly the name of a Dr Seuss book, or was that ‘Go Dog Go’?)

So sip your drink and sip it slow, but take it seriously when a bartender asks:
“what’s your pleasure?”