THE MARTINI AND THE WAITRESS

 

My wife sometimes teases me when we go out for a nice dinner or meet friends at a local restaurant or bar. She can sense when my attention shifts a bit towards what’s going on at the bar, and she’s even caught me counting shakes of a cocktail tin when a bartender is mixing a drink. 

(My personal rule for something like a martini is no more than four-six shakes, maybe four, five seconds. And not a vigorous shake either, the shake should be solid and not too violent. If the drink is more of a tiki style or something that you want aerated then knock yourself out. An aerated martini is an offense to nature.)

So it’s a pleasure for me when I run into a kindred soul and we, as I put it, go all geeky with wine and spirits. The conversation is animated and frequently focused on sharing cool stuff. My second night on a recent business trip I encountered just such a person.

A perfect vodka martini

Before COVID I traveled with a fair amount of frequency. Business and pleasure. And for me one of the best parts of this is to visit some local watering holes, get a lay of the land and if possible share some geek time over a new-to-me cocktail or wine.

On this last trip, to the city of Stamford, Connecticut, I spent several nights trying out my hotel’s bar - bad idea - and a few of the local hangouts. Stamford is both a corporate as well as a college town, so the variety of possibilities was pretty good.

The second night I was in town I decided I needed a bowl of clam chowder - New England style, of course - and a martini. I’d seen a little place on the map down by the waterfront, and since I’m a sucker for the seashore - I've lived near the sea the majority of my life - I decided that had to be my first choice.

Dirty Martini

The place is called The Crab Shack, and is a very casual outdoor patio setup with smaller tables and a handful of sunbrellas covering most of them. A very nice woman introduced herself as Charnae as she handed me my menu. I asked about their bar and she assured me it was a full bar, so I ordered my customary martini. I figured vodka was the safer bet, so asked for it very dry. (I like my vodka martinis almost Churchillian in dryness. Saharan, as it were.)

Charnae looked a little confused but gamely went off to give the order to the bartender, and returned a couple minutes later for my food order.

(Quick aside: My first night in town I’d gone to the hotel’s bar for a very fast drink. The flight had been delayed and I didn’t get to the hotel until nearly 10pm. For some reason the martini was delivered “dirty,” which means the bartender adds olive juice to the mix to reinforce the salty olive favors. Not my favorite style, but I like them on occasion. And despite the fact I ordered it dry the bartender was pretty hamfisted with the vermouth. I figured I was tired, gulped down the drink and ran off to slip into bed.)

Back to the Crab Shack. A minute or so after taking my food order Charnae was back with my drink. A, ahem, dirty martini.

One drink is a fluke. Two is a pattern.

My favorite gin

A few minutes later Charnae arrived with my chowder, and I asked her if dirty martinis were some sort of Stamford specialty. I’m open to regional variations, and actually think it’s pretty cool.

I got the confused look again and she looked a little embarrassed, asking if something was wrong with the drink. I assured her it was fine, but that adding olive juice makes a martini a Dirty Martini - the hint of brown being the dirty aspect. She fully blushed and said she thought “dry” meant adding olive juice. She’d added the olive juice herself after receiving the drink from the bartender.

I laughed, telling her the difference between a dry, wet and dirty martini, after letting her know that I’m very much an enthusiast. Instead of being offended, she was fascinated. She came over several other times and asked questions, clarifying and even asking a question on behalf of the bartender. I thought that for an ultra-casual party bar that was impressive.

Charnae's 10 Minute Martini

So I shared the fact that there are more than two ways to make a martini, mentioning the two commonly known techniques of shaken and stirred, then introducing her to four more: Duke’s, on the rocks, the two-minute and the ten-minute methods, explaining each in turn with the pros and cons involved. 

Having an attentive student, and having half of the first martini already consumed, I was having a great time. I asked for a second martini, to which Charnae smiled broadly and asked “do you have ten minutes?” 

I laughed, said I did and settled into my chowder.

She came by a few minutes later to check that the food was okay, and, with a wink, told me I had four minutes left.

And, in four minutes and maybe fifteen seconds, here she comes with a plastic glass that the bartender had put into the freezer for precisely ten minutes to let get cold. He thought, apparently, that I was a few aces shy of a deck, but that’s his loss not mine. She used a second cup to gently pour the drink into my existing glass, produced an olive on a toothpick and left me to my goods - checking in a little later to make sure it was done right. I told her how much I appreciated the effort and that yes, indeed, the second martini was quite good.

She learned a bit, I got a pair of good martinis (and a bowl of clam chowder) - and had a very nice time out on the waterfront.