The Dry Manhatten

For those of you who do not like sweet cocktails, the dry Manhatten might be the perfect answer. There are some philistines who insist that a dry Manhatten simply has less sweet vermouth in it. They are wrong, and I can pull out a stack of bartenders' manuals from various ages and can prove it. A dry Manhatten is made with dry vermouth:

2 parts bourbon or rye
1 part extra dry vermouth
2 dashes bitters

Shake over ice and serve in chilled glasses. Garnish with an olive OR a twist. Unlike a sweet Manhatten, this one is satisfactory if served on the rocks (oh, I have had plenty of sweet Manhattens on the rocks, but that drink was meant to be served up).

Warning: be careful ordering this one at bars. Many young whippersnapper bartenders will botch this drink.

A sweet Manhatten or a dry Manhatten can be converted into a Rob Roy or a dry Rob Roy by substituting Scotch for the bourbon or rye. This is an abomination. If you are using a single malt you are assaulting and battering a fine whisky. If you are using some rotgut blend, well, why would you want that stuff soiling your bar anyway? I don't get it. Scotch was meant to be drunk with only a splash of spring water and perhaps a single ice cube.

Bourbon, on the other hand, with its inherent sweetness, lends itself much better to mixing.

Another thing that baffles me is the proliferation of pseudo martinis. Folks, if it has fruit juice or chocolate in it, call it something else. For that matter, if it has vodka in it, call it something else, like a vodkatini. A martini should be gin, a splash of water (for the stuff sold in America, which is too high in alcohol), a hint of vermouth (I am not one of these people who waves the gin in the direction of Turin and calls it a dash) and an olive or twist, depending on the gin. If you use cheap gin, add more vermouth. Even Seagrams can make a good martini, but you have to chill it to something approaching absolute zero and will probably be up to three to one for the vermouth.

A sweet martini, with a capful of sweet vermouth added to the gin (and even a dash of bitters), is an interesting change of pace, although once you go there you are approaching the Negroni territory, which is a different cocktail.

About as far as I will allow a drink to get from the martini is the Venetian martini, gin with Antica Formula and sweet vermouth, served with an orange twist.

A dirty martini is wrong. Just wrong. A dirty vodkatini, with plenty of vermouth, on the other hand, can be interesting, on occasion. The last vodkatini I had was at Herb Caen's memorial, but I only had one in his honor and switched to gin for the rest of the evening.

The most interesting variant on a martini that I have had was the mescalini, a drink with mescal (you know the stuff, with the worm at the bottom of the bottle) and lime juice. I liked it, but Melanie found it foul. I think you have to be the sort who likes Islay malts to enjoy this one. It had an almost peaty taste to it, like Laphroiag.

I better stop here, because the next logical step is to discuss pulque, and that is an essay in and of itself. Let me end by saying that I would like to make some pulque, and would appreciate any advice from those who have made it themselves.