Order a martini and you may be asked: gin or vodka? Shaken or stirred? Wet or dry? Olives or a twist? Perhaps it’s the ritual of hospitality—which is the unspoken ingredient in every martini—that makes it a sacred cow of cocktail culture. Treat the martini with respect and it will respect you.
There’s an efficient beauty to the ol’ standards of martini personalization, but it’s a lot like trying to riff within the confines of classical music: rigid. The martini is an American invention, is it not? Does making one have to feel like playing chamber music? Time passes. The youth revolt (or forget). And thanks to a growing number of bartenders who pay less reverence to the gray-flannel-suit era that the martini has been amber-sealed within, this era’s martinis are finally starting to play out like those other key American inventions: jazz and punk rock.
Today you’ll find martinis that better reflect the diaspora of American drinkers and drink makers, like the umami bomb that is the MSG martini at Bonnie’s, a Cantonese-American restaurant in Brooklyn, or one with a blend of Korean sojus at Naro in Rockefeller Center. You’ll notice some leaning into the culinary prowess that the best bars possess, like the Old Bay martini at Denver’s Yacht Club, which captures licking your fingers after eating crabs and taking a swig of a gin martini. You may even run into a real curveball, like the tequila martini at the Beverly Hills location of the martini temple Dante.
Tequila? In a martini? For me, that’s within the rules. The essence of the martini isn’t vodka or gin. A martini is like rain or the ocean. It is clear, it is cold, and it has the power to cleanse. In fact, creating martinis that recall the sea or fresh rainfall has become a pursuit among nerdier bartenders. The martini is like a reset in a glass for the modern world. And a blanco tequila lends itself well to that goal.
Our reporting team spent the past few years sipping hundreds of martinis across the country to find modern classics and the essential, old-school stalwarts. You’ll find our 50 favorite martinis in America below, listed alphabetically by state, kicking off with our Martini of the Year.
Now, there are some folks putting cocktails into martini glasses and calling them martinis, as they did in the ’90s and early aughts. I’m all for innovation, but you have to draw the line somewhere, even if it’s a bit blurry. So we’ve come up with a few guidelines for riffing here. You can agree. You can disagree. But therein lies the beauty of a drink in which hospitality is an ingredient: The customer is always right. Except when they want cranberry juice in their martini. That’s a cosmopolitan.—Kevin Sintumuang
CHANDELIER MARTINI
(New Orleans, Louisiana)
I’ve been traveling to New Orleans regularly for most of my adult life, and, because I’m an adult in New Orleans, my itinerary revolves around cocktails. This is one of the most dynamic drinking cities in the world, so the lineup of essential things to imbibe has changed over the past twenty-plus years. My current top three cocktails in no particular order: the Jewel Sazerac at Jewel of the South. The frozen Irish Coffee at Erin Rose. And the latest addition, our very first Martini of the Year, the Chandelier Martini at the Chandelier Bar inside of the Four Seasons Hotel New Orleans.
It is an innovative martini that very much plays within the traditional rules. As beverage director Hadi Ktiri explains it, the idea of the drink started when they discovered a crystal coupe made from the same stuff as the chandelier that hangs above the bar. They knew they had to make a special martini for it. From there, 17 iterations were developed before landing on this recipe. A blend of three gins: a London dry, an Old Tom, and a botanical style. La Quintinye vermouth. And something nicknamed “Chandelier Magic,” a mix of grapefruit bitters, absinthe, and maraschino—it’s like a Tuxedo cocktail, reduced to a whisper. Some of it goes in the drink. Some is atomized on top of it after the drink is stirred 24 times. (Give or take a stir or two.)
The arrival of the drink is a moment. Heavy glass, atop a silver tray. A lemon peel, Castelvetrano olives, and pickled Louisiana mirliton accompany it on a bed of crushed ice. There is a familiarity and mysteriousness to the drink all at once—that Chandelier Magic really is magic. I’ve began and ended nights in New Orleans with this drink. It can be cleansing. And it can be contemplative. And that’s the true test of a great martini. It will serve its purpose, no matter what that purpose is. —K.S.
THE DESERT MARTINI
(Phoenix, Arizona)
Whoever declares a desert devoid of life is simply not looking closely enough. It might just be the case beauty tucks itself away from the sun. Such is the case of Bar 1912, a cocktail lounge hidden behind Valentine, a restaurant itself crouching beside an antiques store in a former dry cleaner’s building. Such is the case with the Desert martini, part of the bar’s Arizona terroir menu. The Desert Martini draws from the state’s biome: a cactus paddle vermouth, a blend of foraged desert botanical gin (notes of coyotillo blossom and Buddha’s hand citrus), finished with olive and onion and resin-y creosote bitters. It’s herbaceous, aromatic and as refreshing as a rare rain on parched soil. —Joshua David Stein
SUNGOLD TOMATO MARTINI
(Carmel, California)
The cocktails at Chez Noir elegantly capture the bounty of California, from figs in a Manhattan to passionfruit in a toddy, but there’s nothing that says farmer’s market like a fresh sungold tomato. Capture that in a martini as refreshing as this, and you’ve captured the essence of a slightly tipsy, cool, NorCal summer night in a glass. —K.S.
OLIVE DRIVE
(Los Angeles, California)
The first sip hits and you’re not quite sure if the order got botched. There’s the smack of a pleasantly dulcet gin then the unmistakable burst of citrus. The finish, a faint whisper of chili. Wait, is this a martini? Sip numero two. The saltiness from the olive brine greets you warmly and so does lime, which is dancing delicately with lemon. Chili again. Oh yes, this is a martini. And you need to order another to contemplate its complexity, you know, for research purposes. —Danny Dumas
DAHLIA MARTINI
Dahlia Lounge, DTLA Proper Hotel
(Los Angeles, California)
Sometimes a martini can stand out by letting its spirit shine. Most of the time, it’s a gin that gets that spotlight, but with the Dahlia Martini, it’s Vusa African Vodka, which has a delicate, earthy grassiness. Stirred up with Carpano Dry Vermouth and Bittermens Orange Cream Citrate Bitters, the martini has the refreshing qualities of fresh springwater or a summer shower. —K.S.
TEQUILA MARTINI
(Los Angeles, California)
If you don’t think tequila belongs in a martini, this will change your mind. The Casa Dragones Blanco and the Sipsmith Lemon Drizzle Gin give the drink a stiff backbone while with touches of Lo-Fi sweet vermouth, Chochi, Cochi Americano and crème de cacao soften it all out to a revelatory cocktail from one of America’s temples to the martini. —K.S.
LDV GIBSON
(Los Angeles, California)
La Dolce Vita is an old Hollywood joint in Beverly Hills, recently revived to its former glory, but still so dark that it will take a few minutes for your sked to adjust and for you to notice that you’re standing in leopard print carpet, the move, once you’ve become situated, is to get their velvety gibson. You’ll notice there’s no onion. And that’s ok because there’s plenty of onion-adjacent flavor: housemade brine, spicy pickled romanesco, three drops of black garlic oil. Like a good Gibson, it’s just the right amount of dirty. —K.S.
MUSSO + FRANK MARTINI
(Los Angeles, California)
Burgundy leather booths. White tablecloths. Servers in red jackets and black bowties. Not much has changed at the classic 104-year-old Hollywood steakhouse—and we hope it stays the same forever. Beeline to the handsome mahogany bar, order that martini that’s traditionally served here with zero vermouth and pair with a Roquefort mousse stuffed celery on ice and you’ll be off to a nice start. —Omar Mamoon
THE LAFAYETTE LOBBY BAR MARTINI
(San Diego, California)
There are a multitude of prints, textures, and eras represented in the lobby bar of the newly revived Lafayette Hotel but somehow, it just works. The same could be said for the bar’s martini. It’s a play on the esoteric martini cousin, the Alaska. Normally a wallup of a cocktail with nothing with gin and yellow chartreuse, this one gets a more gentle touch with vermouth, sherry, and green chartreuse. It feels thoroughly classic, yet absolutely weird. And that’s a pretty wonderful space to play in. —K.S.
APHOTIC MARTINI
(San Francisco, California)
Sipping on the Aphotic Martini at the dark and moody seacentric Michelin-starred restaurant is like taking a sip of the ocean; their version is made with a blend of five different house-distilled spirits and botanicals including seaweed gin and green tea liquor. The drink is stirred and poured tableside—it’s all part of the show. But the best part? The caviar-stuffed olive garnish. Seven more please! —O.M.
THE PROGRESS MARTINI
(San Francisco, California)
The martini belongs to every drinker who prefers savory over sweet, which is why the Cali-Mediterranean version served at The Progress has become a legend. You like herbs and smoke? Well, this team actually goes to the trouble of smoking the Castelvetrano olives over mesquite, and a crowning squiggle of rosemary oil delivers the coup de grâce. —Jeff Gordinier
MARTINI
Martuni’s
(San Francisco, California)
Come for the martinis—a couple of these giant, generous drinks will set you right for the night. Olives or lemon twist, vodka or gin. The choice is yours here—you’re in control. But stay for the piano bar in the back—it’s one fun sing along late that goes until 2am nightly, and everyone is welcome. —O.M.
OLD BAY MARTINI
(Denver, Colorado)
Co-owner McLain Hedges says he got the inspiration for this drink while eating crabs doused in Old Bay and washing them back with martinis and wanted to capture that experience in a drink. After a lot of experimentation, there is a drink with Bombay 1er Cru Gin, Noilly Prat Extra Dry and the right wisps of old bay salinity and subtle spice. A garnish of puffed shrimp chips on the side to make the drink feels like a small appetizer to kick off a big night out. —K.S.
THE TELEGRAPH
(Denver, Colorado)
The mile-high outpost of the legendary cocktail bar has had this alpine-centric riff on the martini since its opening in 2018 in the airy lobby of the Ramble Hotel. Served straight out of the freezer, it’s a potent cocktail that delivers notes of pear, eucalyptus, pine and juniper, like a walk through the mountains. —K.S.
COLD AF MARTINI
(Miami, Florida)
It’s fitting that the signature martini at South Beach’s most elegantly chill cocktail bar would bill itself as something that is simply cold af. But like the bar itself, which perfectly straddles the line between dance club and fancy cocktail joint, it’s more complex than that. Available with Grey Goose Vodka or Fords Gin, it’s subtly dirty with a blend of olive and pepperoncini brine, and an almost a coastal spa like quality brought on by the Kleos, Italicus and celery bitters. But all you really need to know? It’s cold af. And delicious. —K.S.
FINO MARTINI
(Miami, Florida)
If there was a martini that made perfect sense for Miami’s humid, tropical climate it would be Jaguar Sun’s fino martini. There’s not a lot to it, but that’s the point: a bottle of Beefeater from the freezer, fino sherry in place of the usual vermouth, and a whole ounce of clarified fresh passion fruit juice. It is the right amount of sweet you want when you’re this close to the Caribbean, and the right amount of bracingly cool gin for a hot Miami night. —K.S.
BAR BLANC MARTINI
(Atlanta, Georgia)
One could live happily if not for long on the offerings of Bar Blanc. Ford Fry’s new little bar above his brasserie, Little Sparrow. Democratic the menu isn’t: steak in browned butter bernaise, a loaf crusty french bread, unlimited fries and a salad for show. That’s it. You can, and should, choose cocktails and, if time is fleeting anyway, choose the martini, made with both a London dry and a more viscous gin, served freezer door cold and diluted with mineral water, neither shaken nor stirred. —J.D.S.
MARTINI
(Chicago, Illinois)
It is impossible to not start salivating for a martini when you enter the Cherry Circle Room, a mid-century time warp of a bar/restaurant located in the heart of the gothic Chicago Athletic Association hotel. They will make a martini exactly to your liking, but we find it best to order the ever changing martini riffs that always play within the rules like the wintery Apium, which uses a touch of Genepy des Alps to give a martini a kiss of mountain sage. —K.S.
MARKET PRICE MARTINI
(Chicago, Illinois)
When you see market price, you might think oysters. And while they have those here, they have nothing to do with this Wicker Park bar’s m.p. martini. The recipe changes every other week and has a fluctuating price so as to highlight one of the bar’s forty-plus gins—all selected because they make for very interesting martinis—and for the seasonal fresh citrus garnishes like yuzus, bergamot, and oranges. To highlight the m.p. martini’s specialness, it is served on a brass tray, with a sidecar, to the envy of those with non market-price drinks. They love the martini here. Drinking one of these every week for a year would be like graduating from a martini masterclass. —K.S.
THE SPANGLISH
(Chicago, Illinois)
Does a martini belong in an oversized shot glass? No, is the obvious answer. But then you sidle up to the bar here to order the Spanglish, and it comes straight out of the freezer, a bracing mix of London dry gin, Manzanilla sherry, and vermouth, and poured into a small glass that just becomes one with your hand as you easily mingle with those next to you. And then you think: I like martinis in shot glasses. When it’s this cold, deliberate, and delectable, the casualness of a martini in a shot glass can be the most disarming welcome. —K.S.
SMOOTH OPERATOR
(Indianapolis, Indiana)
Let’s keep it simple: chilled vodka and a cooling ribbon of cucumber. You’re going to want that as a counterweight to St. Elmo’s signature appetizer: shrimp cocktail whose sauce seems to be packed with enough horseradish to blot out regions of your brain with fierce nasal waves of heat. Burn, cool. Burn, cool. Repeat as necessary. — J.G.
TUXEDO TAILS
(New Orleans, Louisiana)
The world’s greatest martini garnish is not an olive, an onion, or a caper. It is a quail egg. That alone will have other folks order the Tuxedo Tails on sight because, well, pickled quail eggs are just so cute and irresistible. But it is not a gimmick garnish. This is Jewel of the South, after all, run by Chris Hannah, one of the country’s great barmen. And so the drink itself is a play on tuxedo No 1 and tuxedo No. 2 with gin, Manzanilla sherry, maraschino, and orange bitters. Soak the egg in the drink for a bit, take a bite, and you’ll see why this must be accompanied by an egg. It’s a martini riff more than worthy of its novel garnish. —K.S.
THE SEAWORTHY MARTINI
(New Orleans, Louisiana)
Gin goes well with oysters. Vodka too. But mezcal? That is the sultrier marriage. Let the Seaworthy Martini be proof. The smoky sweetness of Vago Elote mezcal, a touch of dry vermouth and olive brine, some drops of olive oil. Sip and slurp that oyster and imagine yourself near a bonfire by the ocean. —K.S.
PISCO MARTINI
(Cambridge, Massachusetts)
Pisco is one of the most underrated spirits on the planet. Sure you may love it in a pisco sour, but then you have this drink and you’re like, “I didn’t know pisco could do that!” Created by food scholar Darra Goldstein, what makes La Royal’s signature cocktail sing is its horseradish-macerated pisco and the pickled green tomato garnish. It’s earthy, spicy and deliciously strange. —K.S.
GARDEN STATE MARTINI
(Aberdeen, New Jersey)
They don’t call it the garden state for nothing. And so, naturally, one of the state’s best bars would have a martini that included the pride of many a Jersey farm: the tomato. Take a martini with manzanilla sherry instead of vermouth, add some tomato water, strawberry white balsamic and olive oil, and you’ve got a savory martini to pair with one of Jersey’s other great things on offer at La Otra: disco fries. —K.S.
MSG MARTINI
(Brooklyn, New York)
Take the wrongfully maligned yet essential element to so much Asian cooking and make it front and center in an umami bomb of a dirty martini, and you’ve made yourself one of the country’s most punk rock riffs on a martini. Despite the big flavors of Shaoxing wine, a sweet and sour Chinese rice wine, and the MSG olive brine, the drink teeters on balance whether you choose to go with the citrus and juniper-forward The Botanist gin or a Grey Goose vodka. —K.S.
SAKURA MARTINI
(New York, New York)
Sake, gin, and maraschino liqueur tip Kenta Goto’s Lower East Side legend into the taste territory of a Tuxedo #2, but what brings it all into shimmering martini focus is a salted cherry blossom, which floats at the bottom of the coupe glass like a ballerina. —J.G.
EARTHA
(New York, New York)
The golden light, the illustrated murals, the twinkling piano. There is so much history in these walls that it seems out of line to order anything but a classic martini tweaked to your liking. And they will do that as smoothly as they refresh your tray of snacks every few minutes. But hop into Bemelmans’ martini menu, and you will be rewarded. My favorite is the Eartha: vodka, Lillet Blanc infused with rosemary, and a little note of French banana liqueur. It’s a glammed-up martini that can still blend in with history. —K.S.
DANTE MINI MARTINI
(New York, New York)
Hot take: the Dante mini martini is the perfectly sized martini. At about 2.5 ounces, it’s tiny enough that it never gets warm, big enough for a gentle buzz to start the evening, and you can always order another and not feel like a complete lush. Plus it’s $5! But it’s not just the Lilliputian size that makes Dante’s Mini martini so irresistible: a mix of vodka and gin, sweet and dry vermouth and Nardini Cedro gives the drink a Mediterranean vibe you’ll want to set sail with. —K.S.
LEEK MARTINI
(New York, New York)
The pickled onion recipe, refined over many years by Eleven Madison Park’s beverage director Sebastian Tollius, would be enough to make an excellent Gibson. What makes it mystifyingly awesome is everything else. The caramelized leek dry vermouth adds a savory depth. The combination of Japanese and Irish Gins, Armagnac, and Salers Aperitif holds it all together. It’s the essence of the Gibson, gracefully amped up. —K.S.
TURF CLUB
(Brooklyn, New York)
A bit of history: the turf club, created in the late 1880s, predates the martini by about 30 years. This version skews close to the original recipe, using a dry gin, maraschino liqueur and just a touch of absinthe—it’s sweet, but it’s complex and it’s got a hell of a back bone. The restaurant opened in 1879 and, like this drink, was recently revived to its former glory. There are few time warps as visceral as sipping a turf club at Gage and Tollner. —K.S.
ULTIMATE VODKA MARTINI
(New York, New York)
Many martinis claim to be the coldest in town. I haven’t gone around with a thermometer, but I would bet that Hawksmoor’s Ultimate Vodka Martini is the coldest in New York. An ultrasonic jewelry cleaner melds all of the ingredients quickly, and it’s stored in an insulated thermos which keeps the drink at 12 degrees celsius. While there’s no theater of stirring and straining, after that viscous first sip, you won’t miss that at all. —K.S.
BEMELMAN AT THE RITZ
(New York, New York)
If a brisk shot of vodka and a briny spoonful of caviar naturally merge like a kiss by the beach, this cocktail nudges that dalliance forward. It incorporates two vodkas (one actually infused with caviar) as well as Japanese bitters (for undertones of kelp and shiitake), and black seaweed salt rims the glass. Light the bonfire and nuzzle close. —J.G.
1884 MARTINI
(New York, New York)
The Hotel Chelsea is legendary for its bohemian spirit. To mark its revival, a martini was created that would appeal to the likes of everyone who came through its doors, whether you liked them ultra dry or super dirty. The result is a blend of London dry and navy-strength gins that have been infused in olive-oil, plus dry vermouth, lemon liqueur, lemon pepper bitters, and the secret sauce: a house-made tincture of smokey Indian vetiver root. The result is clean yet as complex as the multitude of famous folks that have called this address home. —K.S.
DONGJI MARTINI
(New York, New York)
Leave it to a Korean restaurant named after the nation’s first space launch vehicle to play with the frontiers of what a Korean spirits-focused martini should be. The Dongji Martini, combines Sulseam Mir, a vodka-like rice-based soju and Damsoul Pine, an herbaceous gin-like soju plus a bit of brine from their housemade dongchimi (pickled winter radish) which is also presented as a beautiful cubed garnish. Some Cocchi Americano rounds it out. —K.S.
MARTINI ROYALE
(New York, New York)
What makes this Korean take on the vesper extra royal is the base spirit, Samhae Soju, what is considered in Korea to be an ‘Intangible Cultural Heritage’ product. It takes over 3 months to distill and ferment. Combine that with the gin-notes of a Damsoul Pine soju and a dry French vermouth and you’ve got a beautifully dry yet velvety cocktail that exudes luxury, with or without the optional caviar. (Get the caviar.) —K.S.
CARTAGENA
(New York, New York)
Bar director Darryl Chan’s menu at The Portrait Bar hidden inside the Fifth Avenue Hotel has two excellent martini riffs. There is the Andalusia, which has sherry and umami bitters. It’s a fine savory, style martini. But then there is the Cartagena which nods to the tropical style drinks made with aguardiente, Colombia’s key spirit. But the drink has the flavor profile of the champagne and passion fruit sensation from the early aughts, the Porn Star Martini. Despite the name, that was a cocktail. But this is a true martini. Made with Sonbi gin from Korea, aguardiente, passion fruit liqueur, sherry, and cherry bark vanilla bitters, it’s like the Porn Star martini that grew up and now owns a tuxedo. —K.S.
GREEN MANGO MARTINI
(New York, New York)
There’s no vodka. And no gin. The main ingredient is Patrón infused with green mangoes and accompanied by mango brandy, Sauternes, honey, and a drop of costeño chile oil. The Green Mango Martini’s otherworldly deliciousness—Sour! Spice! Vanilla! —and elegance represents just how lively and fun tequila can be in the king of cocktails. —K.S.
CIGARETTE MARTINI
(New York, New York)
Smoking is bad, yes, very bad. Unheard of in bars, unwelcomed in streets, unthinkable at home. And yet, the delicately smoky cigarette martini is a glass of pure crystalline good. The essence of the drink is Empirical Spirits Charlene McGee, a gin-ish smokey juniper-infused spirit, cut with organic Austrian Truman vodka and Cap Corse, a floral Corsican Vermouth. It’s said the cocktail tastes like kissing someone who’s just smoked a cig. Having done that and being left nonplussed, I prefer to think of it as having just smoked a cigarette—very bad I know—which really can’t be beat. —J.D.S.
ADOBO MARTINI
(Asheville, North Carolina)
Icy neutrality often serves as the martini’s default mode, but here, bold flavors reign. Globules of garlic oil hover on top. A tincture of black pepper and bay leaf floats within. Even the olive has been bathed in Datu Puti cane vinegar. A lot is happening, yes — but the result is harmony. — J.G.
IMPERIAL JADE
(Portland, Oregon)
Takibi is located inside the Portland outpost of the cult Japanese outdoor brand Snow Peak, so it’s natural that one of their more interesting cocktails would combine both worlds. The Impeiral Jade blends Suntory Roku Gin with Apple Brandy from Stone Barn Brandyworks and Accompani Flora Green, two local liqueurs. It’s a martini worthy of the Pacific Northwest’s lush landscape. —K.S.
DIRTY PASTA WATER MARTINI
(Philadelphia, Pennsylvania)
Dirty pasta water is often referred to as liquid gold, that secret ingredient that gives pasta dishes a velvety texture. So it makes sense that it could be used for the same purpose in a martini. The heavily salted pasta water takes the place of vermouth in this martini. The only other ingredients are gin and olive brine, making for an incredibly food friendly martini. Try it with Fiorella’s five pomodoro spaghetti. —K.S.
FARMER’S DIRTY MARTINI
(Philadelphia, Pennsylvania)
Poste Haste is a neighborhood bar, with the lofty mission of using local ingredients whether it be gin, or whiskey, or vermouth. Easy enough to find those ingredients within a few hundred miles. But olives? Almost impossible to grow in the Northeast. So when it came time to make a dirty martini, the Poste Haste bar team opted to make a brine from local cherry tomatoes. Be careful. After experiencing this drink, you might demand that all your dirties have the gentle lushness of cherry tomato brine. —K.S.
THE DIRTY GREEN TOMATO
(Charleston, South Carolina)
For a smart southern spin on the dirty martini, the clever folks at The Grocery in Charleston combine the brine from pickled green tomatoes with gin from nearby High Wire Distilling, whose piney and floral notes play well together with the slightly spicy and vinegary brine. This one is shaken, not stirred—007 would approve. —O.M.
SMALL VICTORY MARTINI
(Austin, Texas)
Austin is very much a beer, shot and margarita town. So when I need a break from that–and yes, you need a break from that–I find myself climbing a staircase in a parking garage to find the hidden entrance to Small Victory, where they really know how to make a martini. There’s a flow chart on the menu that will guide you through some personalization. But you can also leave it in the hands of the bartenders, who have dozens of riffs of the martini on hand. Be ready to discover a new favorite. —K.S.
GOLDEN MARTINI
(Houston, Texas)
Few things cut the brininess of beautiful bivalves quite like the smooth, ice cold combination of gin and vermouth. At Little’s, the addition of grapefruit bitters and chamomile licorice stock adds a complex floral, anisey layer and imparts a beautiful golden hue to the drink. —O.M.
AMIS MARTINI
(Seattle, Washington)
Named after Martin Amis, one of the patron saints of the martini, this variation is a wild one. It’s a bit vesper–it contains Rán Vodka and Monkey 47 gin, but then it goes off the charts with Greengage brandy, Manzanilla sherry, cacao, lemongrass, and makrut lime. There is incredible depth here, a thinker of a drink, but somehow the sheer dryness just pulls it all together like a magic trick. —K.S.
MEDINA’S MARTINI SERVICE
(Washington D.C.)
Too many martini cart spectacles meant to end in applause but only in the beleaguered question, “Can I just have my GD drink now?” My opinion: if the cart rigamarole isn’t functional skip it. At Medina, from the Maydan crew, the bar cart brings not just delivery but deliverance. The dirty martini, served with either Moroccan olive oil washed gin or vodka, is served with ras al hanout-spiced olives, smoked tableside, sumac onions, and, if requested, a bump of Sardinian bottarga, like neon light for your taste buds. —J.D.S.
SILVER SERVICE MARTINI
(Washington, D.C.)
When I was a boy, reading my mother’s Sue Grafton novels, wherein inevitably some handsome man would meet a bombshell blond at a hotel bar for drinks and…who knows what. The martini service at Silver Lyan at the Riggs Hotel in DC was what I unknowingly had in mind. Ryan Chetiyawardana, aka Mr. Lyan, offers four perfectly balanced Martini variants. Each can be made for two, which is hot. They come with olives, house-brined olives, pickled onions, a lemon twist and a fresh shucked oyster. (I mean, c’mon.) All are served in shapely crystal glasses, V’s as deep as her decolletage, as cold as a killer, as strong as the attraction between them, yadda yadda. It’s sexy, sophisticated and so very adult. —J.D.S.
ICE COLD MARTINI
(Madison, Wisconsin)
I’ve always believed that hospitality is one of the martini’s key ingredients. But I didn’t truly understand that until experiencing it at this throwback midwestern supper-club. When my martini was half finished, a server elegantly swooped in to exchange the remainder into a fresh, ice-cold glass. It made what was a very excellent martini to one that I would remember forever. —K.S.
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