Mad About Martinis

Have you ever done one yourself? I have. I took it on the road for an industry event in upstate New York at an inn on Lake Placid. They wanted to do Jerry Thomas cocktails, so we put them in bottles in the bottom of the ice-cold lake. We just threw them off the end of the dock in a net and then pulled them up when we were ready to drink. I’m actually involved in a product that I can’t talk about now.

What kind? I can’t say. But what I can talk about is that my partner, Ted Breaux, who brought absinthe back to America, and I, we’re going to be doing an after-dinner Italian-style amaro. We have a label and everything; it’s just not on the market yet.

Do you see craft-cocktail-making and bartending moving into the home like online shopping and watching movies? It already did. The home cocktail party was invented during Prohibition. They were a huge hit during Prohibition, and they continued to be a huge hit after Prohibition. But when people could go back to bars, they did in droves. You can have both.

So the bar is not an endangered species? Absolutely not. I mean, there’s nothing worse than having to make your own martini.

Let’s go to the lightning round, as they say: What’s always in your fridge? Vermouth, sweet and dry, and sherry, usually fino. Almost always a bottle of Champagne. Right now: Narragansett beer because I’m up here on the Rhode Island border.

Sounds good. Can or bottle? I like a longneck bottle. I drink it over ice. I know people think that’s crazy, but I love it that way.

What’s the last cocktail you drank? A new variation on the Vesper I came up with called a Second Chance martini.

How many cocktail books do you own? I gave a lot to the Museum of the American Cocktail recently. I went down from over a thousand to a couple hundred.

Do you spend more time reading about cocktails than you do drinking cocktails? Nope!

What’s a trend you hate? I hate laybacks, No. 1. I hate the idea of the ice luge and anything to do with people pouring booze into people’s mouths. I think it really fuels the few neo-Prohibitionists that are still around.

They don’t offer you one in prison, but what would be your death-row cocktail? Well, I would have it with my dinner. I would start with an extra-dry martini, then I’d have some steak tartare, then I’d have another martini, then I’d have some oysters, then I’d have another martini, and I’d finish with a stinger. Three martinis and a stinger, that’s the way I’d go out.

Funny to think that way back when, Campari and Negronis were generally considered too bitter for American palates. Now, aficionados gripe that Negronis are often too sweet. That must be the thinking behind the folks at Dante who tweak the traditional 1:1:1 ratios and go long and strong on the gin— a crisp and citrusy 94-proof Bombay Sapphire—to offset the sweetness. It’s a Negroni that will put hair on your chest, and it comes in three sizes (8 oz., $28; 375 ml., $47; and 750 ml., $93). Get it with a mortadella panino.

Some consider I Sodi the house that Negronis and lasagna built; now, you can lap up both in the comfort of your own home. The “classico” is supersmooth and about as well-balanced as a Simone Biles triple double dismount; credit the unusual dueling vermouths (half– Dolin Rouge, half–Punt e Mes). And the elegant presentation—hefty corked apothecary-style bottle wrapped tightly in red tissue paper—makes it feel like a Christmas present

(375 ml., $30).

As befits its speakeasy source, this rich, round Negroni arrives in a glass mini-flask with its ingredients printed on the label: Campari, of course, plus the versatile bartenders’ favorite Fords gin and Martini Gran Lusso, a rare anniversary vermouth bottling. What better to complement it than a Spicy Redneck, a baconwrapped hot dog with chili, pickled jalapeño, and coleslaw (3.5 oz., $12)?

They send you the drink in a plastic deli takeout container, but they make up for it by throwing in a gorgeous hand-carved chunk of crystal-clear ice in a Ziploc bag (plus a vending-machinesize packet of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos). Clever casting, too: The soft Plymouth gin has what a rom-com-film critic would call great chemistry with its pruney Cocchi Vermouth di Torino co-star (3 oz., $15).

For purists, a Negroni isn’t a Negroni without Campari. For the drinks mavens at Hearth, the absence of Campari is the selling point. In its place, they use Bèrto Red Bitter, an aperitivo made in Piedmont since the late 19th century. And seeing that chef-owner Marco Canora goes to the trouble of milling his own pasta flour, you’d be remiss not to order the summery canestri alla Norma with eggplant, tomato, and ricotta salata (8 oz., $19).

The medicinal bite might be the Cinzano 1757, a Campariowned vermouth brand known for its signature notes of wormwood and resin. Food softens the blow—especially chef Hillary Sterling’s gobsmacking take on onion rings: buttermilk-brined, riceflour-coated, deep-fried petals blasted with Parmesan and dried tomato (4 oz., $15).

To get in on America’s NeverEnding Negroni Craze, Milan-based Campari began bottling its own premixed version of that cocktail in liter bottles a few years ago.

Tasting note from our judges: “Strong and sweet and eerily reminiscent—not in a bad way—of the Italian hard candies dear old Nonna would keep in a bowl on the dining-room table” ($36.96 at Astor Wines & Spirits).

Is there a better way to prepare for the apocalypse than stocking your bunker cooler with a 1.75-liter box of Negronis (good, they say, for about 20 drinks)? This Brooklyn spirits company’s super-spicy recipe is for those who like their Negronis as rich and robust as a mug of Swedish glögg ($60).