Alice Lascelles’ Martini masterclass

The first Martini I ever had was a Vesper at The Dorchester. I was in my early 20s and had just landed a job as a reporter on a drinks magazine, despite the fact that I knew nothing about drinks. As luck would have it, I ran into Robbie Bargh, a rather fabulous hospitality consultant who spent his days designing cocktail bars for some of the world’s top hotels. Bargh was appalled by my mixological ignorance, so he whisked me off to The Dorchester (at some wholly inappropriate time like 3pm on a Monday afternoon), sat me down on a plush banquette and ordered me a Vesper.

I can still see that icy chalice now, sitting on its coaster: the star-bright liquid, marbled with lemon oils, rising silkily to the rim; the Y-shaped glass, once frosted, gradually beading with condensation. Robbie told me the recipe had been invented by Ian Fleming. I took a sip and then sat there, rapt, as its cold fire hit my solar plexus. 

In the two decades since, my hunt for a good Martini has taken me all over the world: from the high-rise bars of Tokyo to some of Brooklyn’s crummiest dives; from the rain-lashed moors of Northumbria to St James’s fanciest hotels. I’ve had Martinis in Delhi, Barcelona, Paris and Milan; and one very memorable Lychee Martini in a speakeasy hidden out the back of a Panamanian hair salon.

Surrounded by the world’s best mixologists, I’ve sipped in memoriam Martinis by the grave of Savoy bartender Harry Craddock. We travelled there in vintage cars and drank our toast from iced Thermoses. I’ve clocked up thousands of miles in the name of vermouth and gin. And the reason I’ve done this is because because the Martini is more than just a drink. It’s a platonic ideal, a totem – a sort of boozy cultural prism. A drink bound by recondite rules, and steeped in lore and superstition. Its minutiae have had some of the world’s greatest minds dancing on a pin – Ernest Hemingway, J Robert Oppenheimer, Ian Fleming, Winston Churchill, Homer Simpson.

It’s the sum-total of all that’s exquisite, yet it’s also a perfection that’s well within one’s grasp. You’re as likely to discover your dream Martini at your kitchen table as you are in a world-class bar. For the way you take your Martini is as particular as the way you take your tea. Is there any other cocktail that requires the bartender to ask how you like it?

If you never mixed a Martini yourself you’d only know the half of it. Because the rituals involved in its preparation are part of its magic: choosing the gin, cracking the ice, cutting the scented twist. It’s an antidote to a world of infernal distractions; a chance to be fully present. The one thing nicer than mixing yourself a Martini is mixing one for somebody else. Getting it just how they like it – even if you don’t really approve – is the ultimate act of kindness. 

The Martini: The Ultimate Guide to a Cocktail Icon by Alice Lascelles is published by Quadrille at £18.99

Vesper Martini

The Vesper Martini was first described by James Bond in Ian Fleming’s novel Casino Royale (1953). He instructs the casino bartender as follows: “In a deep champagne goblet... Three measures of Gordon’s, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it’s ice-cold, then add a large thin slice of lemon peel. Got it?” The Vesper has a macho reputation, but it is actually slightly sweet. The fact it’s shaken rather than stirred also helps to soften it a bit. The French aperitif Kina Lillet was discontinued in 1986 – but you can approximate it pretty well with Lillet Blanc and a drop of Angostura Bitters (or use Cocchi Americano, a golden aperitif from Italy, which is bittered with gentian and quinine).Bond would probably have pooh-poohed modern-day Gordon’s, which is bottled at a rather wimpy 37.5 per cent abv (in the UK at least). I reckon he’d go for something with a bit more torque to it, like classic Tanqueray. 

Tomato Leaf Martini

I adore the smell of tomato leaves – and their sappy green, spicy notes work brilliantly in a Martini. Pick them at the last possible moment, on a summer’s evening, to capture the best of the scent.

Jasmine Tea Martini

Jasmine tea brings a fabulous fragrance and a subtle green-tea astringency to this elegant Martini – I like it best with a polished vodka such as Belvedere or Haku (but it could also work with a gentler gin) and one of the fresher dry vermouths such as Martini Extra Dry. A really good loose-leaf jasmine tea makes all the difference: Rare Tea Co, Postcard Teas and Jing are all excellent.

Suit & Tie

Adapted from a recipe by Kristina Magro

A classy cross between a vintage Tuxedo and a ’90s Lychee Martini that’s as pale-pink and dry as a Provençal rosé. Magro recommends using the lychee liqueur Giffard Lichi-li, which I heartily endorse – it is hedonistically fruity and floral, yet still quite delicate.

Lucky Jim

By Kingsley Amis

One of my favourite bits of drinks writing is Kingsley Amis’s Everyday Drinking. Amis urges readers not to waste good vodka on this recipe. The cucumber juice, he says, gives it a “mysterious” appearance, “the green wine of the Chinese emperors come to life”. It’s named after his novel Lucky Jim, which contains one of the finest hangover descriptions ever committed to print.

Arnaud Martini

This cassis-laced Martini was named for the early-20th-century French actress and musician Yvonne Arnaud. Think of it as supercharged Kir. Best with a really dry vermouth – and shaken, not stirred. 

Flame of Love

This pyrotechnic Vodkatini was created at Hollywood hangout Chasen’s for the movie star Dean Martin. Martin’s pal Frank Sinatra reputedly liked it so much, he bought one for everyone in the place. Bone-dry with just a whisper of nutty sherry and sweet orange oils, it’s very sophisticated. Guaranteed to convert even the most die-hard Vodkatini hater. 

Alpine Vesper

By Mike Sager

Equal Parts is a brilliant Hackney bar with a simple philosophy: all the drinks on the menu are equal-parts-everything. This Martini tastes like a minty Negroni, but as it’s made with Luxardo Bianco, it’s nigh-on clear. If you can’t get Luxardo Bianco, you can make it with Campari (though it will then be red). 

Martinez

The Martinez is the missing link between the Manhattan and the Dry Martini – it’s got all the spicy sweetness of an old-style whiskey drink, but you can see the gin-and-vermouth formula waiting in the wings. It’s often claimed the Martinez was created in Martinez, California, for a thirsty gold prospector. This theory has been debunked, alas – but why let the facts get in the way of a good story?  

Marguerite

This delicate, citrusy aperitif is another early cousin of the Martini. A good choice for the gin would be Plymouth. The dash of brandy-based curaçao orange liqueur (or triple sec, at a pinch) is there to season rather than sweeten – it warms the drink from within, like a glowing light-bulb filament. 

@alicelascelles

The annual FT Weekend Festival is here, featuring speakers including Rose Ferguson and Plum Sykes, and a Martini masterclass with Alice Lascelles. Join us on September 7 in London and online for a Saturday filled with debates, tastings, masterclasses and more— register here now