Opinion | Sorry, dirty martini drinkers. I used to judge you for choosing to order it now, I app
And yes, we did judge people based on their drinks choice. And we did judge dirty martini drinkers.
The dirty martini did have its golden years. It is believed to have originated in 1901, when New York bartender John O’Connor found inspiration in the classic’s famous olive garnish. First made by muddling the olive into gin, and later by adding a splash of olive brine, the cocktail took decades to find a wider audience.
It eventually reached critical mass and found favour with the likes of American president Franklin D. Roosevelt, who served and drank dirty martinis in the White House. Then, in the 1970s, vodka was substituted for gin – and the drink’s descent into hell began.
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However, times have changed. Redemption has arrived. One word was enough to twist the plot, and create a new hero: umami, the Japanese term ascribed to savoury deliciousness, found naturally in ingredients such as miso and mushrooms and first identified by Japanese chemist Kikunae Ikeda in 1908.In the past decade, umami has informed the thinking bartender’s credo. Creating new and fun flavours has become thrilling and contagious, while guests are excited and curious to try new creations.
The striking of a balance between sweet, savoury, acidic and bitter became our nirvana, opening up a new playground of cocktail experimentation.
Influences from the culinary world were drawn upon. We borrowed chefs’ techniques and ingredients to bump up the flavours of our cocktails: vinegars, hot sauces, garums, saline solutions, oils, crushed peppercorns, stocks. And the dirty martini was the perfect canvas for experimentation.
Whether using gin or vodka, the spirit’s clean and sharp soul leaves us with ample opportunity for creativity. Even distilleries have started to branch out with savoury ingredients: Australian gin distillery Four Pillars recently released an olive leaf gin, while Spain’s Gin Mare was among the first to champion umami with its blend of rosemary, olives and basil.
I, too, have changed. I enjoy making dirty martinis, and good ones at that. I pick the right spirit base. I research which olive and brine will work best. Some bartenders might choose the Spanish gordal variety, others the Italian nocellara.
I may add a dash of sherry wine and a drop of champagne vinegar as well. Any way you like it, the dirty martini has cemented its legacy. It is here to stay – olives and all.
As Trapper John observed in American sitcom M*A*S*H: “You really can’t savour a martini without an olive, you know. You see otherwise, it just doesn’t … quite … make it.”
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