The History of the Martini

No drink has generated more argument, more mythology, and more bad faith than the Martini. Presidents have defined themselves by their martini preferences. Novelists have used it as a character shorthand. Bartenders have fought about the correct ratio of gin to vermouth with the intensity usually reserved for theological disputes. To trace the martini's history is to trace something essential about American taste, American aspiration, and the relationship between a drink and its era.

The Martinez Origins

San Francisco, 1860s

The martini's most plausible ancestor is the Martinez, a drink associated with the Gold Rush-era town of Martinez, California, and with San Francisco's Occidental Hotel, where the drink was supposedly served to a miner heading home to Martinez. The drink — Old Tom gin (a lightly sweetened style), sweet vermouth, maraschino liqueur, bitters — was recorded in Jerry Thomas's 1887 revised edition of Bar-Tender's Guide, and it bears a family resemblance to the Manhattan: spirit, sweet modifier, bitters.

The transition from Martinez to Martini involved replacing sweet vermouth with dry vermouth, switching from Old Tom gin to London dry gin (which was becoming available in quantity by the 1880s), and gradually reducing the sweetness. By the 1890s, recipes for "martinis" appear in bar books that resemble the modern drink: gin and dry vermouth, bitters optional, olive or lemon twist as garnish.

The Martini Family

The Martini family was prolific from the start. The Gibson is a martini with a cocktail onion. The Dry Martini uses extra-dry vermouth or no vermouth at all. The Dirty Martini adds olive brine. The Vesper — as specified by Ian Fleming — uses both gin and vodka with Lillet Blanc. Each variation stakes a slightly different philosophical position: more botanical, more spirit-forward, more saline, more neutral.

The Evolution of Dryness

The Vermouth Paranoia

In the decades after World War II, the martini underwent a remarkable transformation: it became progressively drier. The standard 1920s martini was roughly two parts gin to one part dry vermouth. By the 1950s, that had shifted to four or five to one. By the 1960s, some authorities were recommending a ratio of twelve or fifteen to one — essentially chilled gin with a memory of vermouth.

Winston Churchill claimed he made his martini by glancing at a bottle of vermouth across the room. The playwright Noël Coward recommended merely bowing in the direction of France. These witticisms, however amusing, reflected a genuine cultural preference for extreme dryness that amounted to vermouth phobia. The vermouth itself — which, properly stored and used, adds complexity, herbal notes, and Balance — was treated as an adulterant to be minimized.

The cause of this shift is partly cultural (dryness as sophistication, sweetness as vulgarity) and partly practical: vermouth quality varied enormously and was frequently served from bottles that had been oxidized by weeks or months of improper storage. A martini made with stale, oxidized vermouth is genuinely worse than one made without; if you've only encountered bad vermouth, you might rationally conclude that all vermouth should be excluded.

Dry vs. Wet

What the Drink Actually Is

The great irony of the vermouth debate is that a properly made Dry Martini — with quality, freshly opened dry vermouth in a two-to-one or three-to-one ratio — is a more complex, more interesting, more nuanced drink than neat chilled gin. The vermouth adds aromatics: chamomile, wormwood, citrus peel, various botanicals depending on the producer. It adds a slight bitterness that modulates the gin's botanicals. It softens the Proof.

The craft revival recovered this understanding. By 2005, the conversation had shifted: bartenders were recommending specific vermouths (Noilly Prat, Dolin, Vya), storing them refrigerated, and using them with confidence. The "wet martini" — four to one or even three to one — was rehabilitated as a sophisticated choice rather than a beginner's compromise.

Bond's Mistake

The Vesper and the Shaken Problem

James Bond orders a "Vodka Martini, shaken not stirred" in Ian Fleming's novels beginning with Casino Royale (1953). This instruction, repeated across decades of film adaptations, became the most famous cocktail order in the world — and a source of genuine exasperation among bartenders.

The problem is not merely technical, though the technical problem is real: Shaking a spirit-only drink (or a spirit-with-vermouth drink) bruises the spirit, introduces air bubbles that cause cloudiness, and produces a less silky texture than Stirring. The Martini family drinks are defined by the stirred technique precisely because their pleasure is in clarity and texture.

The deeper problem is that Bond's order — in the original Casino Royale — is the Vesper, Fleming's own creation: "Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it's ice-cold, then add a large thin slice of lemon peel." Fleming specifies shaking. Whether he meant to or didn't care is unknown. What's certain is that every bartender who has made a properly stirred Vesper and compared it to a shaken one knows which is better.

The Modern Martini

Revival and Reinvention

The contemporary martini occupies a peculiar position. It is both a heritage drink — the oldest continuously ordered cocktail family in America — and a vector for constant reinvention. The Espresso Martini, which contains no vermouth and no resemblance to the classic drink, became one of the most ordered cocktails of the early 2020s. The Espresso Martini is named for its glass and its spirit, not its lineage.

At quality bars, the classic dry martini has been restored to its proper specifications: quality London dry gin, a specific dry vermouth at a thoughtful ratio, stirred until properly chilled and diluted, served in a chilled coupe or V-shaped glass with a thoughtfully selected garnish. The debate about the correct ratio — two to one? four to one? — continues, as it probably always will. That debate is itself part of what the martini is.