The old joke...

...goes something like this:

Three English airmen during World War Two were packing their parachutes and rescue packs for the brutal flight over the Channel and into the teeth of the Luftwaffe. Being veterans of many missions, the men started a conversation about what each was bringing along in case they were shot down and needed to be rescued, an occurrence that seemed increasingly likely given that they had defied the odds and were still alive.

The first airman showed the others his pack and pointed out the flare gun, signaling mirror and folded Union Jack. "I bring these things so that, if I am shot down behind enemy lines, I will be able to indicate my position to Allied forces, and they will come locate me. I'm certain to be rescued!"

The second airman scoffed, and opened his pack. "Here I have a German phrasebook, a copy of Mein Kampf, and a Wehrmacht uniform. With these, I can sneak through the enemy encampments and make it back to friendly forces. I'm certain to be rescued!"

The third airman was preparing silently, but the other airmen watched, mystified, as he packed a flask of gin, a bottle of vermouth and some jarred olives. Seeing their interest and concern, he explained:

"Look, mates, it's simple. If I'm shot down and need to see a friendly face and be certain of rescue, all I have to do is pull these ingredients from my pack and start mixing them up. An Englishman is sure to immediately pop out of a bush somewhere and berate me, 'That's not how you make a martini!'"

So it goes with one of the most hotly debated and misappropriated cocktails since...well, ever: The Martini.

I said in my first post that I would try to keep too many personal opinions about the "way things should be" from my posts, but I think the evolution of the martini is one of the more interesting adjustments in our recent drink history.

To start with, a martini was a vermouth-based drink. Vermouth being relatively sweet, a small amount of gin was added to increase the dryness factor, and boost the relative proof of the drink. As time has gone on, the proportion of gin has increased, and the amount of vermouth reduced, in some cases almost completely. Then, the gin was the next target. In came the vodka! Then the fruit juice! And the sugar! And maybe we'll leave out the vodka and put in...rum and blue Curacao! It has become the case that the only thing a modern martini has in common with an actual martini is the glassware.

So, here are the basics for how to make a martini. A real martini. If you don't like this, you don't like martinis. You like some other drink that may be served in a martini glass. This is perfectly acceptable. There is no shame in not liking martinis. What is shameful is for a martini drinker to sit down at the bar, order a "martini" and be served some flavorless vodka monstrosity by a bartender who just doesn't know any better. Don't ruin it for the rest of us.

1. A martini contains gin. Pick yourself a decent gin.
2. A martini contains vermouth. Find a good vermouth (such as Dolin, discussed below), and handle it appropriately. You wouldn't open a bottle of $3 Chardonnay, leave on the counter for three years after opening and then serve it to your boss, would you? And if you would, I don't want to know.
3. Stir a moderate amount of the above ingredients in a 3-to-1 (gin-to-vermouth) ratio with ice. Do not shake. It makes for a weaker drink. And do not use too much alcohol. It gets warm too fast, and there is no need for a five- or six-ounce martini.
4. Serve up.
5. Garnish with an olive, or olives. If you are extraordinarily averse to olives, a lemon twist is (grudgingly) acceptable.

It's pretty easy to find good gin. There may be as many companies in the gin game as there are making vodka. You can grab yourself a new-fangled Americanized London Dry (my fave is Tanqueray Ten). You can get something with a more interesting list of botanicals (many swear by Hendricks, or Citadelle). Go old-school with a Beefeaters. Drink local with Spring44, Leopold Bros. or Cap Rock. Or get crazy with an Old Tom like Ransom or a Plymouth gin.

But when it comes to vermouth, most are going to grab the ancient bottle of Noilly Prat or Martini and Rossi. And that is a huge shame, because there are a number of fantastic vermouths on the market that will add depth, complexity and goodness to your martini.

Vermouth is, at its core, wine. No one would ever say all wines are the same, and that it doesn't matter which one you drink. Same goes with vermouth. So, you take a quality, white, light, neutral wine, add a special blend of sugar, herbs and plants. This process takes a level of respect and artisanship that you aren't really going to find in the mass market products. And this may be why some prefer a martini with as little vermouth as possible.

Dolin is a small, independent producer of vermouth based in Chambery, the only AOC for vermouth in France. And they do it right. Their dry is light, smooth, slightly sweet, slightly dry, with notes of botanicals that blend perfectly with gin. Their red is fantastic, too, and we'll use it when we discuss the Manhattan. Pick up a bottle, and rediscover a true martini.

Dolin Vermouth de Chambery
Product of France
$18 at Divino

The current cocktail culture...

...has resulted in a lot of good stuff for spirits drinkers. You can walk into a bar and actually get a drink made with lemon juice and simple syrup now, as opposed to some glop from a "sour" pourer. A typical establishment might have three or four decent bourbons, instead of just Jim Beam. And you won't have to explain to your bartender how to make a Negroni.

But beyond that, what has really been exciting is the resurgence, reinvention and re-importation of liquors that have been missing from this country since before Prohibition. We addressed Bols Genever last post, for instance. One of the leading lights in this movement is Haus Alpenz, who has taken it as their missing to being back some of the serious classic ingredients from the past. And, when they can't find someone still making a spirit, they'll find a recipe and get someone to produce it anew.

Case in point is Batavia Arrack. This stuff is old. It was created back in the 1600s and has to be one of the stranger combinations of ingredients used for a distillate: Sugarcane and fermented red rice. If you think this makes for a strange flavor, you're absolutely correct.

Stinky feet, or maybe some kind of mold, is the initial scent. 100 proof stinky feet. You can get some liquor reviewers to comment on smoky notes, or a teak flavor. Whatever. This stuff is musty old rooms in a bottle. It's more dire than any rhum agricole. Do not drink this straight.

But a funny thing happens when you mix it. Suddenly all the gross flavors become complementary. Indeed, mixing with lime juice brings out wonderful complexity. Add in a little chocolate flavor, and you're on your way. In fact, most of the production of Batavia Arrack is used by chocolate makers for just this reason.

Back in the day, and by that I mean our forefathers' day, "punch" was what you drank when you wanted a mixed drink, and this spirit was an essential ingredient for the subtlety it added. Many old recipes still call for it, so it is good that we can finally get some (the first brand imported to the US since Prohibition) almost anywhere. You still won't find it in a bar, but you can grab a bottle for home and start mixing up all sorts of stuff, and imagining you are Thomas Jefferson.

I've found that citrus is probably the best accompaniment. There are a lot of recipes (including the one I've included below, from the back of the bottle) that call for an ounce or more of lime juice, but I've been thinking that may be too much. I'll be trying half and half of Arrack and Jamaican rum with a squeeze or two of lime and we'll see how that turns out.

Stamford Raffles
1 1/2 ounce Batavia Arrack
1/2 ounce Jamaican rum
1 ounce fresh lime juice (try going a little light on this)
1 dash bitters

Shake, strain into a Collins glass with ice, and top with ginger beer (Gosling's makes a fabulous one)

Batavia Arrack van Oosten
Product of Indonesia and the Netherlands
$40 at Applejack

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I mentioned a couple of weeks ago about the bad experience we had at Williams & Graham, and how we were invited back by owner Todd Colehour. I am pleased to report that we returned, and our experience was a complete turnaround. Excellent drinks, excellent food, excellent service. That should be expected though. Todd met us at the door, led us to the bar, and sat us down with Sean Kenyon pouring the libations. Sean is the other owner of W&G, and REALLY knows what he is doing cocktail-wise. We drank all sorts of concoctions, including Boulevardiers, shots of Leopold's Fernet and even some German Underberg, a weird Jagermeister-esque thing that comes in little tiny bottles. The night was fantastic.

So, here's my advice: Go to Williams & Graham. Make sure you make a reservation. Sit at the bar, not at a table. Don't go on a Monday, when the proprietors themselves aren't working. With these pointers, you should be able to go and have a fabulous time. Oh, and order the wild boar bacon entree for eats. Yum.