For some reason I hadn’t had a martini for perhaps a decade or so. The other night our cocktail hour host offered me one, (I actually had two). I was so carried away, I wrote to him the following.
“Thanks for bringing the martini back into my life. I will never abandon it again. I had lost my way. My dignity has been rediscovered.
The proliferation of martini bars and the offering there of martinis of many flavors had troubled me. It reminded me of the 1980s when the martini, with the inclusion of onions and lemon peals, became another sign of the affectation of the population for adornment. Rock stars dressed up like clowns, middle-aged men wore gold chains and perfume, and drinks came in pineapple shells or with tiny umbrellas. It was hard to find anything real and pure anymore. Our society was losing its nobility and character, just as it is today.
But our cocktail hour last night gives me hope that people may return to their senses, perhaps spurred by preparation like you exhibited, and return to drinking martinis as they were meant to be with no more than an olive (whose purpose is to keep the other junk out.) The martini is an honest drink — clear, cold, clean, pure and simple. It tastes exactly like what it is and nothing else — especially designed for people with established values and a liking for purity, even in their vices. I welcome anything you can do to aid the return of this old friend of our culture.”
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