Here’s my fantasy. I start with 3 ounces of Tanqueray. Tanqueray is very dry. It has a little bite, but that’s good ‘cause it lets you know you’re drinking. I like Sapphire, too, but it’s delicate and a little sweet, like a summer evening on the lawn. Tanqueray is the woods at night.
Then, the vermouth. Vermouth is deep. And oily. A carnival poet. I must have vermouth, otherwise it’s just gin and olives. This is a Martini, damn it! Extra dry. One teaspoon to overflowing. Martini and Rossi. And use a real teaspoon, not just a regular old spoon like you use to stir your coffee. The amount is important.
Three Mezzetta Martini Olives. Don’t pin them down, though. Let them swim around and enjoy themselves. This is Vegas for them. Save the spearing and the eating for later, once they’re drunk and easy.
So, I put the Tanqueray and the Martini and Rossi in a large measuring cup with 3 or 4 cubes of ice and stir. Naturally hot-headed, the liquor embraces the ice with an audible sigh. Tranquility is near.
I have a special tumbler I use for my Martinis at home. The glass is not important to the taste, but I like a little ceremony and a special glass fills that need nicely. The olives go in the glass and in the time it takes to get them from the refrigerator, the gin, vermouth, and ice have a deep philosophical conversation about cooperation.
Once the olives are in the glass, they know what’s coming and rub their pimento hands in anticipation. I put the teaspoon handle over the spout of the measuring cup to strain out the ice (which has pressing business in the sink) and pour the now comfortable gin and vermouth into the glass. The olives applaud.
It’s the White Cliffs of Dover meet the Mediterranean. It’s a fruit juice from Venus. It’s stirred, not shaken, and Bond be damned! Let the party begin!