Nonfiction | February 07, 2017
Through the Glass Clearly
Like a languorous panther, the martini is both exquisite and dangerous. Its strength is only matched by its glamour. But it is not to be trifled with. Lauded by Bernard DeVoto as the “supreme American gift to world culture” and by H. L. Mencken as the “only American invention as perfect as the sonnet,” the martini, when drunk in excess, can be ruinous. But when imbibed properly, in the proper quantity and at the proper time with the proper company, it can be the most joyous and transcendent cocktail in the world. But it is far more than just a cocktail. The martini is an experience, an art form whose sought-after perfections are perpetually elusive. It is less product than pursuit. It is a constant study. And like all art elevated to that high aesthetic plane, the martini is intensely personal and fiercely debated among its loyalists, of whom I once counted myself a rank-and-file member.
This essay is currently not available online.
If you are a student, faculty member, or staff member at an institution whose library subscribes to Project Muse, you can read this piece and the full archives of the Missouri Review for free. Check this list to see if your library is a Project Muse subscriber.
Want to read more?Subscribe Today
SEE THE ISSUE
Jul 24 2018
The Loneliest Moon
One of the most pernicious stages of insomnia is when it becomes an opponent. You want to outfox, outflank, outsmart it (lots of adversarial synonyms go through your head at
Jul 24 2018
From behind the bar, Frau Steffen looked me up and down as if appraising an animal a livestock show. She was not quite thirty, tiny and blonde, birdlike with sharp
Apr 24 2018
The Meat Must Float
Invite as many people as you want. That’s what I tell Neela, my mother-in-law. But she sucks her teeth and says, “I have no thick or thin friends.” Translated, this