Someone once came to one of our parties and said, “I’d like something that doesn’t taste too much like alcohol. Can you make me some kind of a martini?” (You know who you are. I’m not telling.)
Martinis are evil. They’re basically pure gin with a vague memory of dry vermouth, invaded by a twist or an olive. I don’t normally go for them. But I’ve been cutting down on the sweet stuff until the holiday blubber subsides, which oddly enough makes you crave sweet stuff less. Here’s a little something I made tonight that is calling me a wimp.
Supervillain
2 0z Plymouth gin
1 oz Dolin dry vermouth
.25 oz Fernet Branca
STIR the damned thing with ice. None of this pansy shaking stuff. Strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon twist. Plot the way in which Bond is going to die. Design a clever, maniacal trap involving an industrial die-cutter, 17 purebred pit bulls, a rhododendron, and a guy named Norman. Decide just to shoot him in the head instead. Emit a sinister laugh.
This drink would have the Don Draper seal of approval, if he knew what the hell Fernet was.