While in Chicago a couple of weekends ago, Jeremy and I descended on Coq d’Or, the Drake’s well-appointed hotel lounge. Here was served the 2nd drink in Chicago after Prohibition righteously imploded. Their specialty is the Martini. Hotel elevators present tasteful advertisements for James Bond’s drink of choice; the bar itself offers several vodka delectations.
Since I know nothing — absolutely nothing — about the art of the martini, I deferred to boyfriend for some guidance. He pointed me to a Grey Goose, dirty and straight, with two olives. It was so good (and deceptively powerful) I could drink only one. For the record, that constitutes my first willful martini. Any other time in my drinkin’ life, martinis have been side thoughts or casual obligations.
Last week, we met friends at Lone Palm on 22nd at Guerrero. A small place, a neighborhood joint with just enough class to make it fun to visit with friends you don’t see that often.
Heather, our bartender, indulged my naivete about martinis by recommending a series of different vodkas. Dirty and straight, with two olives, I had three martinis in a row. The first used Belvedere vodka. I noticed immediately that I was able to taste the vodka. Was it the liquor, or just the difference between the way Heather and the Coq d’Or bartender made drinks? It was good, but I don’t like tasting the liquor.
After that I tried Level vodka. Precisely the same response. I discerned no “taste” difference between Belvedere and Level, but I tasted the liquor in both. Nothing like Coq d’Or. I was beginning to question Heather’s arts.
On the third try, I had Grey Goose, dirty and straight, and it was nearly as perfect as the Coq d’Or drink.
What can I gather from this? Grey Goose is the only way to go, at least until I discover something superior (and my hope is that something superior always exists). I had two of the Grey Goose martinis, for a total of 4 martinis. Yes, I was demonstrably tipsy, but that’s for another post.
It was a great evening of fun learning the ins and outs of a drink that would otherwise never appeal to me.
[A brief moment of apologetic quiet for subjecting my friend Ryan to Absolut vodka, which must have been the equivalent of me smoking oregano when all I really wanted was some decent ganga.]