The Dry Martini: a show of sophistication or unbridled wankery?

Ian Fleming has given this wonderfully satisfying drink an aura of smug. The image of Roger Moore standing by the bar, concubine and martini in hand, wearing his best contemptuous expression sticks in my memory. Mind you, I was really only put off by the thought of drinking nearly straight vodka – we all know we wanted to be just like him.

But the poor dry martini has been thoroughly misrepresented. Underneath the cool veneer lies a drink of unmatched sophistication, with a wealth of adaptability to (almost) any palate. Allow me the pleasure of walking through my favourite martini, the 1920s classic.


It all starts with gin

The base spirit of a dry martini is traditionally gin. Vodka is of course more than acceptable, but it doesn’t taste of anything, so why bother? Gin is so aromatic – when enjoyed freezing cold it is best left undiluted.

The gin in the martini must be British, no question. My favourite gin is Tanqueray No. 10; four times distilled means, in Australia at least, its smoothness is unparalleled. If that’s out of your budget, try Bombay Sapphire, but I wouldn’t recommend the cheaper Tanqueray, as it tastes a bit like petrol. If ‘Bom Sapph’ is too expensive for you, make sure you use a good aromatic London gin. You could also try Hendrick’s, which although is a little more expensive, a number of my friends swear by it.

A bit of wine for sir

The next ingredient in the classic martini is good quality vermouth. This is a European fortified wine, which has lovely herbal overtones on top of a grape skin-type flavour. It’s a dog of a drink by itself, but just a splash freshens up the gin like you wouldn’t believe. It takes the drink from a triple-shot of gin to a far more refined taste, meaning the botanicals in the gin, rather than the alcohol, stand out.

The ‘dry’ in dry martini pertains to the vermouth; not only the style, but the amount. You have to have dry (rather than sweet) vermouth in a martini, otherwise it tastes overly sweet and the gin flavour disappears (plus, it turns pink). Further, too much vermouth will overpower the gin flavour and ruin the drink, making it taste like really strong goon. I love just a tiny splash of vermouth, and my mixing method below will show you how to get the best out of the martini. But some like a bit more vermouth – it’s all up to you, try it and sese what you like.

Use Noilly Prat vermouth, despite being French, it is the best you can buy here. You could make your own, but I can never be bothered. Cinzano Blanco or Martini are also very good.

Stirred, not shaken

Just about everyone who is interested in mixing drinks will have a different opinion here; but for me, there is no question. Despite what Bond did, you have to stir a martini. Shaking it will mean you get little ice shards in the drink, making it cloudy. The beauty of a great martini is how pure, clear and silky smooth it is when you pour – you can only obtain this wonderful texture by stirring.

The Drunkard’s classic dry martini

Chill a medium to large-sized martini glass (cocktail glass) in the freezer while you mix the drink.

Add ice to a mixing glass. Slowly drizzle 10-15mL (about half a shot) dry vermouth over the ice. Stir 7-10 times. Strain out the vermouth, leaving the ice in the glass. This allows the vermouth to penetrate the pores of the ice and it will come out in the drink. It works, believe me. If you want to try the drink with more vermouth, leave it in, but I thoroughly recommend straining it out.

Pour 70-90mL gin (about 2.5-3 shots, depending on taste) over the ice. Stir clockwise for 30 seconds, the counter-clockwise for 30 seconds. Strain the drink slowly into the chilled martini glass. Garnish with three stuffed olives on a toothpick and drop into the drink.

Et voila! My all-time favourite pre-dinner cocktail for your satisfaction.