In Defense of the Gin Martini - a Guest Blog

If you have ever read this blog before, you have heard me talk about Zach.



I may or may not have explained that he is my boyfriend. I feel weird writing the word "boyfriend"; it makes me feel like I am in middle school. A little about Zach:

He is tall. He is smart. He doesn't smile as much as I do, but when he does it is way more exciting. I get excited when he laughs at my jokes because I think he is funny. He has put up with me for 3 1/2 years. He lifts a lot of weight at the gym (although he will be embarrassed I said that). He wears glasses. He has only one dimple when he smiles. He is from Orlando, Florida. He always compliments the food I make, but I can tell when he doesn't like it. He makes me great gin martinis:

Hello, dear readers of Bite Me Food Blog. I don't know how to compose dishes. Perhaps I could figure it out, but the problem is that I don't have the patience. When I do the cost-benefit analysis in my head, also known as the "lazy math," I realize that the amount of time spent measuring ingredients, mixing them, chopping them, et al, will never pay off, given the quality of dish that my imprecise culinary methods will produce. Therefore, I don't really cook. Good thing I'm dating the Bite Me Food Blogger, right? Eh?

The one thing I will mix is a drink. The primary reason for this is that it's simple. The secondary reason is that I love the result of my work, namely, a tasty beverage.

Recently, the Bite Me Food Blogger returned to the apartment late at night rambling about gin martinis. I was all, "What? Martinis haven't been made with gin since like the '40s." She assured me that it was the way to go. I didn't believe her, but the thought stuck with me for a long, long time. By that, I mean it stuck with me until the next time I was in a grocery store. I took the opportunity to grab a big ol' handle of Tanqueray gin.

That night, I made my lady a gin martini. For some reason she likes a lime in it, so I went with that, too. We sat down to watch Mad Men, where the boys enjoy what's known as a "three-martini lunch." Because I am a creature prone to suggestion, I stole a sip of the drink.

WOW. It's genius. Maybe it's because I'd rather attempt to swallow a flaming sword than shoot vodka down my gullet, but I don't remember being that pleasantly surprised since I saw this moving speech from Senator Robert Byrd who, coincidentally, probably peaked around the same time the gin martini did.

The beauty of the gin martini is that it is refreshing. Because it is made from juniper berries, you feel like you're drinking the forest. It's as if some wood nymph has handed you a cupped leaf full of alcoholic rainwater. Unlike the vodka martini, which most people must load up with olive juice to tolerate (i.e., pure salt), the gin martini requires only a hint of citrus to accentuate the freshness. That last sentence sounded like some crap out of a cooking book, I think.

The Gin Martini, Folks:

(makes one drink)

2 ounces of gin, chilled* (2 1/2 if you want to get real toasty)
A splash of dry vermouth
A lemon peel (or lime wedge, I guess)

*I keep my bottle of gin in the freezer. The high alcoholic content keeps it from solidifying.

I keep the martini glass in the freezer so that it's nice and frosty. Unfortunately, this has caused me to break several glasses because I forget that it's on the door and open it too quickly. When I do have a glass, however, I remove it.

Put a bit of vermouth into the glass and swirl it around. Your goal is to coat the inside of the glass. I actually pour out any excess, as the martini tastes better dry.

Pour the gin into the glass. If you think lime sounds good, put the wedge on the rim. The Bite Me Blogger squeezes her lime into the drink, but I would never be so presumptuous as to do it for her and over-lime the drink. Traditionally, I believe a "lemon zest" is used, which is just a small part of the peel to give it a bit of citrus aroma.

Told you it was simple.