PISSIMISM

In the New Year of 2012, beware of pissimism.

Pissimism? It’s a term that refers to the inimitable way the public press counters any sort of cheerful report by pissing all over it. Here are a few downbeat leaps culled from the previous year.

Gentle rains: Chance of flash floods.

Peace in Iraq: Deadly suicide explosions.

Alcohol is good for the heart: Alcohol can be fatal.

Soft breezes: Possible hurricanes or local tornadoes.

Three days of high temperatures: Artic blast on way.

New Year brings more car fires.

Sunny days could signal severe drought.

Near-east waterways regulated: Iran threatens to block Strait of Hormuz.

New Year ends mildly: Bitter cold on way.

Kindergartner sneezes: Flu pandemic might rage worldwide

And so on and on.

For every crumb of hope, the media dashes buckets of gloom. With this in mind, make each moment your own, and don’t succumb to media pissimism.

Happy New Year from Jack.

AN ODE TO THE MARTINI

It’s as American as Elvis, Custer, and apple pie, and its fame has lasted a lot longer. It’s the cocktail known as the martini.


Some scholars say the martini was created on the eastern shore of San Francisco Bay. One day in 1870 a gold miner with a terrible thirst shambled into a saloon in the settlement of Martinez.

“Gimmie drink,” he croaked.

The bar’s owner gave him drink by pouring a measure of cold gin into a glass and adding a green olive. When the customer asked what the potion was called, the owner said, “Why, it’s a Martini.”

“Gimmie another,” the man said.

One more bit of lore says a bartender with the name Martini di Arma di Taggia first made the drink at the Knickerbocker Hotel in New York, in 1911. True or false, either Toggia or Knickerbocker would be an overly elaborate name for a simple drink.

Well, there are martinis and there are martinis. Rather, there
are so-called martinis that don’t deserve the name. These are
the candy-ass concoctions that are rainbow-colored, or reek like
a bowl of decomposed fruit, and taste like . . . . Well, like a bowl of
decomposed fruit.


Here, I’m talking here about the classic martini. Call it a virgin martini if you
will. But it involves nothing more than a generous slug of top-notch gin
(preferably Beefeaters), a few drops of Italian dry vermouth, and an olive.


SOME CAVEATS

No syrups. No sauces. No savors. No tang of strawberry, pineapple,
raspberry, orange, lemon, lime, coconut, or smoked herring. Noel Coward
suggested that a perfect martini should be made by filling a glass with gin
and waving it in the general direction of Italy.


Use a clear, untinted, V-shaped goblet. No etched, no bowed, no twisted cutesy stems. No crackle, personalized, frosted, flowered, bejeweled or beribboned glasses. For God’s sake, enjoy a pure drink in a chaste container.

No artificial tints or flavorings of chocolate, raspberry, pineapple,
or smoked cod.

Serve straight up, with no traces of ice in the glass.

Please, no Bombay Sapphire gin. Although it is a fine sipping gin with a fruity taste, it’s too flavorsome for a classic martini.


SOME WORDS

◊ “He was white and shaken, like a dry martini.” P.G. Wodehouse
◊ “The three-martini lunch is the epitome of American efficiency. Where else can you get an earful, a bellyful, and a snootful at
the same time?” Gerald R. Ford.
◊ “Why don’t you get out of that wet coat and into a
dry martini?” Robert Benchley
◊ “If it wasn’t for the olives in his martini, he’d starve
to death.” Milton Berle
◊ “One more martini and I’ll be under the host.” Dorothy Parker


THE PREPARATION

2 jiggers of gin
3-4 drops of dry vermouth
Pour ingredients into a cocktail shaker half-filled with ice cubes. (Ice cubes, mind. You’re not making a snow cone.) Shake gently, but do not stir. Strain into a chilled martini glass. Add an unstuffed, unsmoked green olive.

Gaze at your creation. Inhale its aroma. Bring the glass to your lips and sip.

Sip again.