Dry vermouth (Dry Martini)

With just one step removed from one of the six basic cocktails (by David A. Embury’s definition, at least) it’s hard to resist adding the ingredient that will land us at the Martini. And I see no reason to hold back.

So we add dry vermouth to the bar. Vermouth is both a fortified wine and an aromatized wine.

A fortified wine is not distilled itself: instead, the fortification is done by adding a neutral spirit. Originally, the idea behind adding extra alcohol was to increase the preservation time. Port, sherry, Madeira and Marsala are all other examples of fortified wine.

Aromatization is adding extra flavour with herbs and spices (and seeds, roots, barks and flowers). Aromatized wines have been around for a long time: it is thought that the Chinese already had aromatized wines before 1000 BC.

I’ll not expand too much on the history of vermouth, so I’ll have something left when we get to the sweet vermouth. Suffice to say that Joseph Noilly produced the first dry vermouth in France at the beginning of the 19^th century.

Both the Italians and the French are famous for their production of vermouth. So which vermouth should you use?

If you go for an Italian dry vermouth, that’s fine. It will certainly do the job. But although both countries produce both dry and sweet varieties, traditionally the French are known for the dry vermouth. If you browse The Savoy Cocktail Book, you won’t find recipes demanding ‘dry vermouth’ or ‘sweet vermouth’. Instead, they list ‘French vermouth’ and ‘Italian vermouth’. So there’s a lot to say about following the same pattern: take French vermouth for dry, and Italian for sweet. But the cocktail police won’t arrest you if make a different choice.

One thing to take into account, though: dry vermouth should ideally be kept refrigerated and be used within 1 to 3 months. Ted Haigh^* and other experts insist.

^*  In ‘Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails’

Dry Martini

Now on to the cocktail which could fill a blog on its own: the Martini. If we make a Dry Martini, the ‘dry’ indicates we’re using dry vermouth. On the other hand, if we are discussing how dry a Martini should be, we actually consider a Martini drier if there is less vermouth. That’s because a Martini is usually made with London dry gin (and the vermouth, while dry, still manages to take the edge off the gin a bit).

The exact origin of the name is not known, although some theories exist. What’s certain, is that the name did not originate from the Italian vermouth brand. What’s also generally agreed upon, is that the Martini evolved from the Martinez, a sweeter variant.

Although I promised not to complicate matters much in this forum, I do feel obliged to take a stand on Martinis. Debates are so heated around this subject, that just ignoring it would be getting myself off too easily.

So here is my view on what a Martini actually is:

·        A Martini is made with gin.

It is not made with vodka. A Vodka Martini has its own name: the Kangaroo. Sorry Mr Bond.

·        It is served in a cocktail glass.

I don’t think many will object to this.

·        It is chilled by stirring.

I won’t go into discussions about ‘bruising the gin’ (by shaking), but this is generally accepted as the proper way to prepare these kind of cocktails.

·        It is made with vermouth.

Yes, I don’t specify dry vermouth. So this also allows for a Sweet Martini and a Perfect Martini (equal parts sweet and dry vermouth).

·        It is optional to add one or two dashes of orange bitters.

Orange bitters are also a classical element of the Martini. However, unless you’re already an immense cocktail enthusiast, you won’t have orange bitters at home. It’s okay to do without them however: Harry Craddock doesn’t use them either (in The Savoy Cocktail Book).

·        The Martini can be garnished with olive(s) or a lemon twist.

Or nothing. Whatever you choose, it’s a matter of taste. There’s no rule on the number of olives either. Just go with what’s available and to your taste.

So how dry should a Dry Martini be? Again, that would be entirely up to the drinker. It started off as equal parts, but over time people demanded drier and drier Martinis with less vermouth. Ratios went from 2 : 1 to 4 : 1, than 6 : 1, even 15 : 1… Eventually, only the glass or ice was coated with vermouth before adding the gin. In my eyes, that’s plain silly: if you want to drink gin, just drink gin. Don’t go over all the fuss of adding a slightest hint of vermouth.

It does make for some funny instructions and quotes, though. To treat the bottle of vermouth like it’s the last one on earth, for example. Or the quote of the flamboyant Noël Coward (on which I do not agree, but which I still find very funny): he suggested that a perfect Martini should be made by “filling a glass with gin then waving it in the general direction of Italy”.

I’ll take things easier, however.

2 parts gin

1 part (or less) dry vermouth

glass:  cocktail

Stir with ice and strain into the glass.

Add orange bitters (before stirring) and garnish (olive(s) or lemon twist) according to taste and availability.

I’m aware that we don’t have proper bar equipment yet, so that probably means you’ll have to improvise. Use any large glass or cup as mixing glass. Stir with a spoon that seems fit for the job. And use your hand to hold back the ice when decanting if you really have nothing to strain through.

Measuring shouldn’t be too much trouble, just find a small vessel to use as a measuring cup. Alternatively, you could use a kitchen scale to monitor the amount of liquid you add (a trick my girlfriend has come up with and that works nicely).

In this case I used Gordon’s London dry and Noilly Prat. The proportion I kept was 2 parts gin and 1 part dry vermouth, and that works just fine with me.

So, apart from stirring instead of shaking, I have kept entirely to the version in The Savoy Cocktail Book (somehow all Martinis are shaken there, adding to the confusion).