Three martinis

If I had a martini before 2019, I don't recall. But fondly do I remember happy hour martinis at Bushwick dive bar Birdy's that year, two in a sitting, $7 per, carrying three of them across the bar to a small round table where sat my friends.

Dirty. Gin. Sometimes vodka, rarely a twist, never straight. The problem with a twisted martini is I don't much care for the taste; the problem with a dirty martini is I care too much for the taste.

I had my first horrible martini on Monday, March 2, 2020, right before the pandemic descended upon New York City and two years before Harrison Patrick Smith, then of Turtlenecked non-fame, ascended to fame as the king of non-scene "indie sleaze" with his hit single "Girls."

On Monday, March 2, 2020, friends and I had tickets to Turtlenecked at Trans Pecos, so we met beforehand at Bonus Room, the bar down the block. I ordered a dirty martini. After a couple of sips, I went for the olive, and immediately spat it out — it was rancid. The martini itself, whatever; I finished drinking it, but I never ordered a martini there again; it's a bar good only for a beer, a shot, and a burger. It's a joke I played on myself by ordering a martini in a dive bar. Of course, Birdy's is a dive bar. And their martinis delight!

I had my second horrible martini on February 6, 2023, at the Pavilhão Chinês in Lisboa (Lisbon to you, reader). It's a winding, dusty bar lined with shelves full of odd old toys and tchotchkes. Servers wander in red vests, white shirts, and black bowties. There's a long cocktail menu. I — hubristically — ordered a not-on-the-menu, not even cheekily off-menu, dirty martini. It came horrid, which was entirely my fault, but I drank it anyway before ordering a half-liter of Super Bock to wash it down.

The Chinês martini on-menu version listed dry gin, a dash of dry vermouth, lemon peel, and olive. It would've been better if I’d just ordered that. But the lemon sank it; it tasted like over-seasoned limoncello.

The distaste of those previous martinis did not — could never — compare to the third horrible and first-worst martini I've had. Again, the fault was mine alone; why would I think a pay-for-the-view steak restaurant — not a steakhouse, but they certainly served steak in a former house — in Moab, Utah, would serve a decent martini?

And yet, on June 1, 2023, I did order a martini from the Sunset Grill in Moab, Utah — "Every Table a View!"

In the gorgeous state of Utah, to quote the Utah DABS (Department of Alcohlic Beverage Services), "Bartenders are required by state law to limit the amount of hard liquor in mixed drinks to 2.5 ounces total." And so they did, filling the rest with pure olive brine. Pure, I call it, but I think they may have seasoned it even more. I've poured salt directly from the shaker onto my tongue and it tasted less salty. 

I didn't finish it.