Europe can learn a thing or two from the States about serving up a quality dirty martini; at least according to this food and travel writer’s hot take.
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When it comes to many foods and beverages, Europe simply does it best. Whether it’s pillowy gnocchi from Italy, syrup-soaked baklava from Greece, or cream-based, well, practically everything from France, there’s something about the region’s gastronomy that knocks most American cuisine off course like a red shell in MarioKart. And while I am always Team Greasy Comfort Food from the good ol’ U.S. of A (chicken fingers and french fries will be part of my food pyramid until the day that I die), the purity and presentation of ingredients make dining abroad feel a touch more special and elevated.
That said, I beg, practically on hands and knees, for bartenders across the pond to grasp a basic understanding of the ever-so-reliable, wonderfully savory, and deeply beloved dirty martini.
It’s no secret among my friends, family, and colleagues that I love to sip tangy limoncello and can down a goblet-sized Aperol spritz along with the best of them. I also appreciate a creative cocktail with clever and innovative plays on the classics, as well as the incorporation of authentic local produce and spirits that I rely on Google Translate to pronounce correctly. But sometimes, after a long day of tiring the palate through extensive tastings and literal binge fests for work (tough life, I know), all I want—err—need is a briny, dirty martini to warm my body and quell any brain activity before bedtime.
Unfortunately, during recent trips, I’ve encountered some of the most foul-tasting interpretations in existence. These have included a vermouth-heavy atrocity in Dubrovnik, an olive pit-in-tact freak show in Lake Como, and an unidentified liquid in Istanbul that resembled the murky water at the bottom of an opened tuna fish can. Frankly, I don’t need my adult beverage with a very adult price tag to remind me of what I puked up during college frat parties. Is that too big of an ask? Apparently so.
Let’s Shake Things Up
A good dirty martini is all about balance: a sophisticated base of velvety, high-quality vodka (or gin if you crave a bit of botanicals), a whisper of dry vermouth, and the essence of olive juice. The drink is shaken, not stirred, until ice-cold and adorned with three green olives (stuffed with a sharp blue cheese, if you’re lucky) in—and I know this is apparently shocking for many establishments—a chilled martini glass. It doesn’t seem like a difficult task and yet I’m amazed by the bizarre and often lukewarm concoctions that are so frequently presented to me.
Of course, I don’t want to sound too much like an industry snob. The libation was allegedly born at the Waldorf Astoria in New York City (or by Franklin Delano Roosevelt…it’s always been up for debate), and it’s a-OK that it hasn’t been met with the same gusto from mixologists overseas. It has also become an oddly popular cocktail choice for younger generations who enjoy a bit of salt in their drinks, after spearheading the dill pickle movement.
But if you’re going to charge 20-plus euros for something that deviates so far from tradition and expectation, it should at least come with a disclaimer. I’m also of the belief that *any* expert in the hospitality space should have a base-level knowledge of popular international sippers. This also applies to Americans, of course, who may be fearful of expanding their arsenal of bevs that bleed red, white, and blue, such as old-fashioned drinks and cosmopolitans (or bloody Marys, Ramos Gin Fizzes, and Blue Hawaiis, if we’re going literal).
Think Before You Clink
On most days, and now more than ever, I’d genuinely rather be traveling than in the States. But for the love of our booze-loving predecessors, I hereby demand the Old Continent to master this no-frills, yet oh-so-cherished aperitif that doesn’t deserve the abuse of unfamiliar hands and uninspired hearts. Europe is olive country, after all. This should be something that locales like Spain, Italy, and Greece should not only embrace and perfect, but also steal and call their own (which would, ironically, be the most American approach).
I believe in you, Europe. I really do. But if we’re going to make it to gastronomy second base and have my lips pressed against anything you serve me, I’m going to need you to step up to the plate and deliver a pinch hitter (instead of something that requires me to pinch my nose as I guzzle it down).
Places To Find an Excellent Dirty Martini in the States
After griping about Europe’s epicurean wrongdoings, I’d be remiss not to offer a handful of suggestions for the best dirty martinis in our country. One needs a near-flawless foundation for comparison, of course, and this is an excuse to do important research.
Bemelmans Bar
Everything’s coming up roses for Rosewood Hotels’ beloved Carlyle property in NYC. The dirty martini is just as good as the vibes: timeless, sophisticated, and fancy AF.
Drake’s Hollywood
Drake’s said I see your standard cold dirty martini and raise you one Arctic plunge dirty martini that could house a polar bear and take down the Titanic. If you seek something as icy as your personality, this iconic West Hollywood haunt in Los Angeles has got you covered.
Club Lucky
Go traditional or go for an Always Lucky with Ketel One Vodka and blue cheese, pimento, and anchovy-stuffed olives (or house-made Gibson onions). If you’re not a fan of the funk, Chicago’s Gibsons is a Windy City institution that always delivers on exceptional taste and quality.
Goodnight’s Prime Steak + Spirits
Finished with olive oil and fresh cracked pepper, sometimes it’s the little things that take something simple to the next level. This dirty martini will always prove a much-needed respite while visiting Healdsburg, California, especially if you need a break from all the wine tasting on offer in Sonoma.
Hillstone
Is Hillstone a national chain with multiple locations? Yes, yes, it is. Does that matter when it comes to dirty martinis? Absolutely not. Try ordering one during a weekly jazz night and guzzle your worries away to the calming melodies of a quartet—you’ll thank me later.
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