The great American wit and man of letters, H. L. Mencken, memorably described the martini as ‘the only American invention as perfect as the sonnet’. If the sonnet was the pinnacle of European cultural achievement, then the martini was the transatlantic equivalent. This is by no means the only literary link this iconic American drink can boast. Why is the martini such a popular and esteemed cocktail?
For many readers and cinema-goers, the martini cocktail conjures up the world of America in the 1920s – the ‘Jazz Age’ – so vividly portrayed in the works of F. Scott Fitzgerald. Undoubtedly these associations go some way towards explaining the popularity of the drink in recent years. The Great Gatsby in particular, especially the recent film, with its party scenes, seems bound up inextricably with the image of the martini.
However, martinis are never mentioned explicitly in the book, which is noteworthy given that less famous cocktails, such as mint juleps and gin rickeys, are mentioned by name in Fitzgerald’s novel. (Fitzgerald’s favourite cocktail appears to have been the gin fizz, which comprises gin, lemon juice, sugar, and tonic water, much like a Tom Collins cocktail.)
I like to have a Martini, two at the very most; three, I’m under the table, four I’m under my host. – Dorothy Parker
In fact, the one thing most people probably know about martinis isn’t true, or at least isn’t usually advised – that is, most cocktail guides and bartenders will advise against shaking a martini. The classic line associated with James Bond in relation to the vodka martini – ‘shaken, not stirred’ – flies in the face of what most martini drinkers would recommend. To get the best result, one should stir, rather than shake, the martini. W. Somerset Maugham certainly thought the martini should be stirred rather than shaken ‘so that the molecules lie sensuously on top of one another’.
The martini is a mixture of gin and vermouth, although vodka is sometimes used in place of gin. The two drinks are poured over ice, stirred, and then the liquid is strained into a glass (one of the distinctively shaped martini glasses) before being garnished, traditionally either with an olive (or an odd number of olives; for some reason the number has to be an odd one) on a cocktail stick, or a twist of lemon peel.
There is nothing quite so stimulating as a strong dry martini cocktail. – T. S. Eliot
It’s worth asking why the martini, above all other cocktails which came to prominence both before and during Prohibition during the US, has attained this status as somehow more than just a drink but as a perfect creation, as a work of art like the sonnet, as an icon of both refinement and decadence. The two key ingredients in a classic martini are, on the face of it, not inspiring: gin during Prohibition, at least, was notoriously bad in flavour and overall texture, since it was illegally distilled.
Similarly, vermouth was a wine originally made from wormwood, the same bitter plant which made absinthe – though with less chance of hallucinatory side effects. Yet when these two indifferent ingredients were mixed together, they created something that somehow transcended the sum of their parts. Shrewd marketing, perhaps? The popularity of James Bond certainly helped, although Bond favoured the vodka martini rather than the classic made with gin, and drank fewer martinis than people might expect (whisky was a far more popular tipple for 007).
One thing is for sure, though: martinis have been popular with a great number of literary types, both in the US and elsewhere, for nearly a century now.
And the drink has got steadily stronger, too: the original mixture would be roughly equal measures of gin and vermouth, but most modern recipes prescribe six parts gin to one part vermouth, meaning that a modern martini is close to being as strong as neat gin (though, inevitably, the ice with which the drink is mixed waters down the alcohol content a little). Noel Coward was a keen imbiber of the martini, and liked his made very dry indeed: the ideal one, he once quipped, should be made by ‘filling a glass with gin then waving it in the general direction of Italy’.
Winston Churchill (who, people may forget, could list a Nobel Prize for Literature among his achievements) was another fan, and is said to have made his martinis by pouring a glass of gin and merely whispering the word ‘vermouth’ (or, alternatively, staring at a bottle of vermouth across the room as he drank down the gin). Now that‘s dry.
I could never get on with a martini myself, DL (damn, I suppose that means I’m not a real writer). I like my gin but only so it gives my tonic some je ne sais crois …
Just love the thought of waving the drink in the general direction of Italy … so delightfully Noel.
P.S Third line first para – should that be ‘martini’ was the transatlantic equivalent? Or am I losing the plot? (Could be all the gin :/)
Oops, well spotted! Thanks, Angela – will amend right away.
And I think a martini is very much a polarising drink (or ‘acquired taste’, to use the euphemism for something that one cannot stand!). Mind you, I must say personally I’m a fan of them…
Expected nothing less of you, IL ;)
I’m in the Marmite camp with them …
Now that’s cool information:) Thank you.
Thanks – glad you enjoyed it!
I’ll bet that the numerous cocktails downed by Nick and Nora Charles in Dashiell Hammett’s “The Thin Man” were martinis (although, as in “Gatsby”, they’re not mentioned by name). And I had the same comment as angelajardine re: ? typo in the 3rd line of the first paragraph. Fun post. Thank you.
Thanks! And thanks for the heads-up – I hope the piece is typo-free now. I need to read some Hammett, so your comment has served as a timely reminder that I need to check out his stuff!
Those gangsters sure knew how to sell! Great article! And now, I’m thirsty all of a sudden.
Those gangsters sure knew how to sell! Great article. And now, I’m thirsty of all a sudden.
Indeed! I had to go and make myself a vodka martini when I’d written the piece. I think it was that lovely picture that did it… Thanks for the kind words :)
Mencken: “I’m ombibulous.I drink every known alchoholic drink and enjoy them all.” He once gave a radio interview on how to drink beer. Beer was his favorite especially when he was (in his words) “as thirsty as an archbishop.”
Do you know if any recording of that radio interview survives? I’d love to hear that! ‘As thirsty as an archbishop’ is a fine simile. I’ve made a note of that one, cheers!
I had my first “dirty” gin martini in New Orleans 2 1/2 years ago, and embrace it as my drink of choice when I’m in the right establishment. It’s fun to sample martinis, since no matter how I want it served, the only constant is the olives :). My favorite so far was a dry dirty martini made with Van Gogh gin at an Italian restaurant in Atlanta. Sigh.
Mmm Van Gogh gin – I’ve never tried that but it sounds rather pleasing. I quite liked the one dirty martini I had, but my usual drinking partner on such occasions isn’t a big fan of salt in drinks so I’ve not had another!
I just love green olives. We went to a restaurant in New Orleans that served me a dirty gin martini with blue cheese-stuffed olives. Thought I’d died and gone to heaven ;)
Reblogged this on 1WriteWay and commented:
Ah, the martini!
You might enjoy The Drunken Botanist by Amy Stewart – http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17132059-the-drunken-botanist – Lots of interestingness, but mainly on the botanical side.
Super, thanks for this!
Cool article. As a French native, I still prefer wine to cocktails. To answer Angela, wine adds a je ne sais quoi to conversation.
Thank you for sharing a refreshing post, which opens the discussion on drinks and literature.
Very true. My favourite drink of all is red wine, which I may have to write a piece about in the future (what red wine is there in literature? The Malmsey wine that the Duke of Clarence was drowned in, perhaps…). Red wine is great for stimulating relaxed, interesting conversation and debate – I think it must be something to do with it slowing the heart rate and relaxing the blood vessels. Certainly how it feels, anyway (until the next morning, anyway!)
Fantastic post!
Not sure what all the fuss is with Martini’s though. I usually find that gin sparks some fantastic literary ideas!
Thanks! And I know what you mean… I enjoy a martini or two from time to time, but neat gin is a delight, too…
I’m guessing one uses an odd number of olives for the same reason one always uses an odd number of flowers in an arrangement–even numbers of things just don’t look right!
I think you’re right – to be fair, one olive can look very neat on a cocktail stick, but so can three … Two just looks as though the barman’s eaten one of the olives!
Ha! You’re right.
If only I could be as witty as Dorothy Parker – she certainly had a way with words. And as I read somewhere “no great story starts with eating salad’
Ooh I didn’t know that one – a great line! Will have to go away and research that, thanks :)
What a fun post. Makes me want to dress up immediately in a smart frock and heels and visit a cocktail bar. However, it is not even lunchtime, so i will desist!
Take early lunch, and then have a three-martini lunch! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three-martini_lunch Though to be fair, I’ve never done it (though I like the sound of it)
Turns out all the great ones where drunks…I´m on the path to success!
As Brendan Behan put it, ‘I’m not a writer with a drinking problem. I’m a drinker with a writing problem.’ True: there is so often a link!
Martinis are made with gin. A vodka martini is a crime against nature and an insult to humanity. And oh, my, it Must be COLD! In the bar in Le Meridien in Abu Dhabi I once asked for a martini and was served a vodka confection that was WARM. I’ve never been back.
I must say I do prefer classic martinis, but every now and then I go a bit ‘Bond’ and have a vodka one – but I refuse to shake it! You’re so right – a warm martini is like having a warm ice tea!
Did 007 drink vodka martinis? Really? The man was a fool.
A fascinating count of 007’s drink choice was once undertaken by some sot or another. Champagne beat martini, as did his overall whisk(e)y tally – 99 in all. He had his scotch with soda usually, and his bourbon neat. Another reason to question the guy’s refinement as far as I can see.
Blimey – he did have it the wrong way round. Neat Scotch, definitely, and bourbon with some sort of mixer, every time. He also liked doing weird things to his (vodka) martinis, didn’t he? All these Vespers and such. Apparently a shaken martini is called a Bradford, which (although I’m sure the city is very nice) doesn’t exactly give it an air of refinement. Mr Bond, what a philistine you actually are!
What a great idea for an article :)
Thanks, Alex – glad you liked it! I must confess Martinis are a favourite tipple here at Interesting Literature Towers :)
Nothing beats a dry martini! Great post!
A fairly recent article in “Slate” claims that Ms. Parker did not write the quatrain ascribed to her: http://www.slate.com/articles/life/drink/features/2013/martini_madness_tournament/sweet_16/dorothy_parker_martini_poem_why_the_attribution_is_spurious.html
But it’s a great quatrain, and Dorothy Parker is too little appreciated these days. Let’s give her some fame, even if the attribution is spurious.
Oh, that is interesting – another myth for us to debunk in a future post. Had no idea Parker probably didn’t write it! Thanks for this – fantastic! And I agree, it’s a great quatrain: wise, witty, and about one of the great drinks :)
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