Shaken, not stirred

Another short post, for my sister, L, who is adamant about me keeping to posting regularly. (Oh, L, I miss you! (She's also dubious about me using initials to identify people. What's the point? she says: I know who you are talking about anyway. But does the CIA? Ha...))

Martinis entered my life when I moved to San Francisco, as one of my main companions here, M, was into them and we spent many a night out together when San Francisco was fresh to me. Consequently, I take mine like he does (and probably always will): shaken, very cold, extra dirty, with three olives, and preferably Grey Goose. OK, so the fancy vodka turns it into a little investment, but it is well worth it. The buzz is...clear and intense and fun. The hangover is...minimal. But, whatever you do, always drink one glass of water for one martini and don't go over two drinks. I've done it, but I wouldn't recommend it.

A typical part of the martini experience with M involves explaining to the bartender exactly what we want, and then tasting the drink once it is poured and sitting in front of us, and then, often, sending the drink back for refinements. I used to shrink at the idea of telling someone who's served me that what they did was wrong, that they need to try again, but M has changed this in me. The places we usually go are nice establishments, often downtown. Last night we even warned the bartender beforehand that we'd be sending our martinis back if they weren't right. He sort of laughed at us but didn't flinch and poured the perfect martini the first time.

Once I found myself in a dive bar in my neighborhood, waiting for a date. I really wanted a martini but was worried that at such an establishment, the drink would be no good. So, I hesitantly asked the bartender: "How's your martini?" The pierced and tattooed man was pissed. He growled at me: "Why don't you give it a try and let me know?" Scowling, he made it. Reluctantly, I tasted, worried I'd have to confront him about not fulfilling my desires. But he did, and I tipped him well, even thanked him profusely. He didn't seem to care... My point? I don't know...

Have a happy day (it's sunny and beautiful here!)... And consider a martini the next time you go out. If I'm with you, I'll make sure you get the perfect one.