I like a nice cocktail. A perfectly prepared, impeccably presented, cocktail. I like the whole process of a cocktail. The amassing of the very best ingredients. The high-tech gleam of good stainless steel bar tools. The shimmering, sparkling crystal of very good barware. I like the entire ritual. Maybe the allure is that certain bit of glamor attached to the ritual. Engulfed in nostalgia. Swank. Stylish. It’s that, yes, but so much more. This is of course epitomized in the scintillating viscosity of a very good martini. Always gin, never vodka.
But I have a confession. I mix a perfectly respectable cocktail— most of the time. But the perfect martini eludes me. I have a feeling an impeccable martini can only be mixed by somebody who has the talent bred into his or her DNA.
Which means I save perfect martinis for the lobbies of very good hotels. The bars at a few select restaurants in towns that understand the phrase, “drinking for pleasure”. You can’t find it at Applebees, Red Lobster, or Outback Steakhouse. Dive bars are fun, but stick to beer. Because there is a very fine distinction between a good stiff belt and a cocktail worthy of that moment of pause. The pause that comes just before you pick up the stem, close your eyes and lift it to your lips. That brief, unconscious pause. The inhalation of the electric current that floats right above, or sits on top the surface of a perfectly mixed beauty.
If you are lucky enough to have a friend or relative with the elusive, recessive perfect martini gene then you can enjoy them at home. Just not my home. Sorry… nope. I’m far more likely to serve one of the other classic cocktails. It could likely be one of the many riffs on a Manhattan cocktail. I’ve featured several here on this blog.
Algonquin Cocktail
Lately, I’ve been enjoying something a bit juicier than a Manhattan or any of its brethren. It’s a classic and it’s also got a NYC pedigree. It’s even easy to perfect. I’m talking about the Algonquin cocktail: two parts rye whiskey, one part dry vermouth, one part fresh pineapple juice. Shaken and strained. No garnish. GREG
Yes, please! I’ll have two. And again, another fabulous glass! You classy devil, you.
It’s really beautiful and it seems easy to cook. But I know exactly what I can not do. I can enjoy a good cocktail prepared by a professional.
I have to admit that we have the same martini issue. When making it at home, something goes wrong every time. And the Algonquin Cocktail is simple and elegant with a special ingredient — pineapple juice. I can’t wait to make it for my friends.
This sounds yummy!
This is a great cocktail, isn’t it? Love it! Makes me nostalgic for the Big Apple — gotta schedule a visit again. 🙂
I’ve never heard of an Algonguin. (Your glass is gorgeous. )
There is nothing more sophisticated than a beautifully presented cocktail, the glass is equally as important. Fortunately for me, my husband has the Martini gene so I’m the complete opposite, I virtually never order a martini out! I made that mistake again recently and had to send it back. Twice. I didn’t even give them a third chance, I just cancelled my order. We lean toward vodka martinis with a splash of gin (a Vespler?) and a hint of dirt (olive juice). And oh so dry! A quick spray of vermouth is all it needs.
The pineapple juice is an interesting addition, not something I see in many cocktails, but I’d give it a go! Cheers!
well, that’s one cocktail i won’t be trying. But it’s pretty!
A must-try! Love how Vince refers to it as “The Gonk.” Always a favorite place if mine to grab a (very pricey) drink.