The Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad Sixties Cookbook (34 page)

MARTINI

MAKES 1 DRINK

Of all the cocktails that have evolved over the years, the Martini has had the biggest metamorphosis. Until the 1950s, a Martini was always made with gin (in its original incarnation, the gin was sweetened) and a healthy dose of sweet (not always dry) vermouth. As expense accounts got bigger on Madison Avenue, so did the Martinis, and the vermouth (dry or sweet), with its lower alcohol content, only got in the way of the attitude-enhancing qualities of the vodka. Here’s how a Mad Man would make a Martini. (And don’t forget the Martini’s cousin, the Gibson.)

½ teaspoon dry vermouth

3 ounces vodka

Pimiento-stuffed green olive, for garnish

Chill a cocktail glass. Pour the vermouth into the glass, swirl it around to coat the inside of the glass, and pour out the vermouth. Half fill a cocktail shaker or martini pitcher with ice. Add the vodka to the shaker and stir well. Strain into the glass. Add the olive and serve.

Gibson:
Substitute a cocktail onion or two for the olive.

Martini, Dry:
Increase the vermouth to 1 teaspoon, add to the cocktail shaker and do not discard. Add the vodka, stir, and strain.

Martini, Wet:
Increase the vermouth to ½ ounce, add to the cocktail shaker and do not discard. Add the vodka, stir, and strain.

Martini, on the Rocks:
Shake the drink and strain into an ice-filled old-fashioned glass.

The Three-Martini Lunch

In the Sixties, it was not only okay to drink on the job, in some cases it was encouraged. Businessmen–particularly those in sales and advertising–used long, alcohol-fueled luncheons with clients to close big deals and nurture important accounts. The practice was so common it had a name: “the Three-Martini Lunch.”

While most company policies now bar employees from consuming any alcohol while on the job for a multitude of reasons—safety, health, and productivity—the real impetus for change might have been financial. In the Sixties, 100 percent of the business lunch, including transportation costs to and from, was tax deductible. In 1976, presidential hopeful Jimmy Carter found the practice to be unfair to the working class. He campaigned to end the government’s subsidization of “the $50 martini lunch.” Incumbent President Gerald Ford responded with a passionate defense: “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?”

Carter won, the business lunch tax deduction was whittled down—it was decreased to 50 percent in 1993—and the Three-Martini Lunch all but disappeared, until 2009 when the Palm restaurants unveiled an official “Mad
Men
Three-Martini Lunch.” Cheers!

NEGRONI

MAKES 1 DRINK

Cocktails are an American invention, but the Negroni was born in Italy. A bittersweet combination of three European libations, it is just the drink to serve when you are feeling cosmopolitan. (Note that the cocktail we know as the Cosmopolitan didn’t arrive until the Eighties.) Some people like their Negroni on the rocks.

1½ ounces Campari

1½ ounces sweet vermouth

1½ ounces gin

Orange zest twist, for garnish

Chill a cocktail glass. Half fill a cocktail shaker with ice. Add the Campari, sweet vermouth, and gin. Shake well. Strain into the glass. Rub the orange zest around the rim of the glass, twist over the drink, and drop it into the glass. Serve.

Negroni on the Rocks:
Strain the shaken drink into an ice-filled glass and garnish with the orange zest.

OLD-FASHIONED

MAKES 1 DRINK

It’s called an Old-Fashioned because it is the original cocktail recipe: whiskey, sugar, and bitters. If it didn’t have these three ingredients, then it would be a toddy, sling, or another name according to the drink’s formula. To make the granddaddy of all mixed drinks, start by crushing a sugar cube in the glass with some bitters. (This job goes much easier if you have a muddler, which looks like a small baseball bat, to do the crushing.) Although today many bartenders would muddle the cherry and orange garnish with the sugar before adding the liquor, in the Sixties, the fruits were strictly garnishes.

1 sugar cube

2 or 3 dashes of aromatic bitters, such as Angostura

2½ ounces rye or bourbon whiskey

Soda water (optional)

Orange slice, for garnish

Maraschino cherry, for garnish

Lemon zest twist, for garnish (optional)

Put the sugar in an old-fashioned glass and moisten with the bitters. Crush them together with a muddler. Add the whiskey and fill the glass with ice. Stir well. If desired, fill the glass with soda water. Add the orange and cherry, and lemon twist, if using. Serve.

Swizzle Sticks

While sticks of various shapes and sizes, including those stripped right off trees, have been used to stir drinks for centuries, the economic boom at the end of World War II, the rise of advertising, and the invention of plastic molding turned the once humble rod into a rock star. By the Sixties, swizzle sticks were hot commodities. Initially only stamped with an establishment’s name and address, swizzle sticks soon became elaborate, multicolored, creative collectibles. The happy drink accessories fell victim to budget cuts from the recession of the early 1990s, but thankfully, they are making a comeback. Pick up a pack for your Sixties party, or better yet, grab a collection of vintage sticks on eBay. They’re amazing bits of history, great conversation starters, and unlike those tiny red straws, will actually move your ice.

SCREWDRIVER

MAKES 1 DRINK

Many people are convinced that a morning Screwdriver, and not cereal, is the breakfast of champions. If you make this with freshly squeezed orange juice, you just might agree. Supposedly the drink gets its name because a crew of mechanics poured vodka into orange juice and stirred the brew with the nearest utensil handy—a screwdriver.