The Martini, a love story

What is a Martini?
The Basic Martini is gin and dry vermouth in a 2:1 ratio. If that’s what you came for, there you go, that’s it, happy travels. Stir over ice, pour into a tall stem glass, add your preference of an olive or twist of lemon, et voila!

The rest of the traditional martini breakdown goes something like this; Wet Martini – extra vermouth, Dry Martini – less vermouth, ‘Perfect’ martini – split your vermouth 50/50 between sweet and dry. You can have a Dirty Martini, which adds olive brine. What about vodka? Feel free to replace the gin with vodka, but know that gin came first

Shaken or stirred?
Everyone has an opinion on this, so we’ll keep this short and sweet. Stirring goes a little easier on your ingredients and most barmen will tell you that a martini must be stirred, lest you bruise your gin – the rule being spirit based drinks get stirred, juice-based drinks get shaken - but the truth of the matter is the martini has been stirred and shaken for some time now – longer than you think - going so far to receive a study at the Department of Biochemistry, University of Western Ontario, which concluded that shaking your Martini produced more antioxidants than stirring. Make of that what you will. That the study had nothing whatsoever to say about taste is a strike against the entire science community.

Bond’s apparent preference for the shake can be found in author Ian Flemming’s preference for the style as a war correspondent in Berlin, developing Bond as a nonconformist with a penchant for sticking his nose up at the establishment, and an agent in need of his favourite drink, pronto. A license to kill will do that to a man.

To conclude, the martini has very few ingredients, and while a shake will dilute and get your drink to temperature quickly, perhaps a little time and care is what’s needed to get the perfect mix of dilution, temperature, flavour and texture.

The Martini today.
“For us, it’s always gin, always,” emphasises Rob Libecans of Three Horses and Caretaker's Cottage, Melbourne, a staple on the 50 Best Bars of the world list. “It’s that thing where everyone knows what’s in it and everyone can make a really bad one!”

That’s not to turn anyone away from making their own martinis at home, but the cracks start to appear almost instantly, only adding to the mystique and allure of the drink.

While that sets a challenge for the keen home barperson, what do Caretakers do that sets them apart? Other than make and sell well over 10 000 every year, of which about a fifth of that are vodka martinis, the more time spent around Libecans and the Caretakers team, the importance of water and dilution become clear.

“We found two gins that we absolutely love. We don't want anything that's too floral and we don’t want soapy flavours. Something that is chill filtered - so it's not going to be cloudy - and then finding of a vermouth that fits - that was really important, but the hardest thing was water.”

“It must be perfect. It comes straight from the freezer. It takes 24 hours to get to temperature and because the amount we go through we can’t really give anybody any options. So, water and dilution were the biggest things. It affects how quick it's going to chill down, as well as the viscosity, which enhances the balance of the drink as well. Dilution is the biggest thing.

That the martini slowly becomes philosophical is of no surprise. As personal tastes and preferences begin to appear, the small details that go into making a great one, provide more than enough material for discussion.

“It's all in the interpretation of course,” says winemaker and one half of Maidenii Vermouth, Gilles Lapalus, in a perfectly thick French accent, “and there's that infinite debate about what is the correct formulation of martini.”

“I always say 50/50 is best,” which is probably something the maker of a vermouth might say, but the balance continues to be the point. “I think it's probably a cocktail that resonates with the art of mixing, it's a very simple cocktail, and I think that's key.”

Maidenii’s Dry Vermouth, with its 17-18 grams of sugar per litre is probably one of the dryest on the market, and if you ask Lapalus, the dryer the better.

But what makes a martini a martini? What is that final element that is quintessential martini?

“There is a cultural understanding of that shape. It can be a tricky glass. We know if it's too full and too crowded, you need to concentrate, and in a way, it forces you to slow down, to think. I think that leads to its enjoyment.”

Ferrone, like Libecans at Caretaker’s Cottage, approaches the martini – and in all her glassware – with the care and respect the drink deserves; angles can be off, a stem might feel unsuitable and a base oddly proportioned, and though we might be talking millimetres here, the fractions matter and the enjoyment, whether innate or acquired, come down to this.

“This idea of challenging an archetype is something I focus a lot on in my research and in teaching as well. We don't need 3000 copies of the same thing - we don't have enough resources and why do it? So, the idea of how can you challenge it becomes the aim? The [martini] glass is so classic and such an iconic shape, it is to be celebrated, redefining it, while finding that sort of hidden moment that makes it special but still recognisable.”

That the martini is legendary comes of no surprise. Movies and literature paint pictures of decorum, elegance, debauchery and fun, and stories abound from historical figures and pivotal moments.

Like playing ‘This Must Be The Place’ by Talking Heads when you can’t think of anything to play, ordering a martini can get you out of a lot of sticky situations, but also like playing ‘This Must Be The Place’, it can be a gateway to a world beyond – into B-sides and an alt rock, post punk, New York art scene you might never knew existed - the martini is just that good.

The martini, it seems, is never far away from the action, perhaps why we fill the need to be so close to it.