Delicious? Oui.
Chambord is from France, which is what makes this the French Martini, I guess. There’s pineapple juice in it, too, and actually more of that than any other one ingredient so maybe it should be called a Pineapple Martini (or heaven forbid a “Pineappletini”). Chambord is a raspberry liqueur. Maybe it should be called a Raspberry Martini (Raspberrytini? Yech…). I’m going to celebrate that the mixology community has decided on “French Martini.” It’s the least cheesy of the possible appellations and in these days of adding -tini to the end of anything served in a cocktail glass, that is a blessing. Page 112 of The Essential Cocktail:
1 ounce vodka
1 ounce Chambord
2 ounces unsweetened pineapple juice
I am giving this drink my Official Warning label. Beware. If you have the opportunity to drink a bathtub full of these, you will.
This is the first drink I’ve made more than two of for testing. I made four individual instances at a dinner party and then for the second round, simply quadrupled the ingredients and made a shakerful. Yes, the collected subjects eagerly agreed to a second serving each. The ratio of effort to enjoyment is about 1:8.
The Willing Guinea Pig Drinking Club
Shaken vigorously, the pineapple juice imparts a delectable foam which you should spoon onto the surface of the drink once it has been served. Don’t leave it in the shaker, it would be a crime. It’s tasty. It’s slightly naughty. It’s only about ten paces this side of the girly drink line. In fact, I can imagine a party at a UPenn sorority house in 1994 at which large versions of this drink were served in big plastic “Go Quakers!” tumblers.
Like I have learned with other cocktails so far, resist the urge to pour the vodka with a heavy hand. You should only barely notice that there is alcohol in it. That way, after you drain your fourth French Martini and get up to go to the Comfort Station, you can enjoy an inadvertent and slapstick close-up look at the floor. It’ll be funny for someone.
Thanks to Nicole and Chris for a whiz-bang dinner party.
(Chris, we’ll have to work on our male-grunting-secret-code to prevent the next Pegs humiliation.)
French people I have known: My high school government teacher Mr. Duvivier (It was fun to watch him torment the German exchange student) and my high school French 1 teacher, Mrs. Clay (She was probably a stone cold fox back in the 1880′s).
I will admit that I love all things French. However, my French teacher, Madame Schweitzer, was not a stone cold fox. She actually shared more of a resemblance to the Mallard family. Although she did introduce Brie to a room full of snot-nosed teenagers in a small town in Oregon, so I give her props for that.
This is definitely a drink I will try as 1) it’s French-esque, and 2) I for some reason possess a bottle of Chambord. I don’t know why I own it, and have yet to find a use for it other than baking tortes or using the bottle as a royal orb along with my bejeweled scepter as I impersonate French aristocracy.
Can I also ask for a point of clarification here? When did Martinis become girlie drinks? No offense to the ladies, I myself love all the girlie drinks and have no compunction about ordering them in a crowded bar. And while I do not enjoy what I call a “real” Martini (gin/vodka, vermouth, and an olive) I appreciated the mystique about them. I liked how they were all alcohol and that there were people out in the world who enjoyed 3 of them as a mid-day meal. I liked how everyone had their own special way adding vermouth from using an atomizer to waving a picture of the inventor of vermouth over the shaker. I liked the iconography of the clear martini glass with the skewered green olive in it. I liked that they become synonymous with tuxedo-wearing spies and Rat Pack members. Now it seems any sweet drink served in a Martini glass is given a name with “tini” on the end and that’s that. But is it right?
I ask you, does anyone else feel the loss of this great symbol of style?
Thank you and keep drinking.
Someone’s spending too much time in his bathrobe watching Mad Men.
Regarding the Chambord bottle, I likened it to a secular version of the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch. As far as the name martini goes, to me, gin or vodka and vermouth with a garnish is a martini. Nothing else should be called a martini. Additionally, I think it’s fine to call it something else if all you’ve changed is the garnish. Want an onion? Call it a Gibson. That’s cool with me. But the reverse is not true. Gin, lemon juice and triple sec is not a Triple Lemon Martini just because it’s in a cocktail glass. If anything, that kind of nomenclature stunts creativity. Call it a Bolivian Biscuit or a Septuagenarian Panty Raid and then make up a funny story to explain the name. You end up a much more entertaining bartender. Why, I know a couple of guys who invented a frothy, summery drink and gave it an inexplicably homoerotic name but the thing is still delicious.
According to DeGroff, the Martinez (circa 1860) was the original martini and it consisted of 2 dashes each of Angostura bitters and curaçao, 1/2 glass (?) of gin, and 1/2 wineglass (??) of sweet vermouth. Stirred with ice and strained into a cocktail glass. Well, that’s nothing like the modern martini is it? I’ll investigate this when it’s time for The Martini.
I am glad to hear we are on the same page, Sir. And just for the record, it’s a shortie kimono, not a bathrobe.
By the way, kudos and extra points for using the word, nomenclature. I challenge you to work defenestrate into your next drink review.
And finally, as you and I both agree this drink pushes the bounds of what should be considered a Martini, I would like to propose a new name, based upon your naming convention above. I now pronounce this drink…The French Tickler. The hilarious back-story practically writes itself. It will also get you funny looks from any bartender when you ask for one.
P.S. I am interested in this frothy summer drink with the homoerotic name of which you speak. Will you be adding a review of this recipe as well, even though it cannot be found in Mr. DeGroff’s book?
yeah. so i’m guessing you can’t recycle (the right thing to do) those chambord bottles, so you might as well line up all the empties on your mantle and call them emmys. depending on your consumption, the acceptance speeches alone could add some much needed complexity to your otherwise sad existence. but we’re talking we-don’t-recycle los angeles, here. DEFENESTRATION is the norm. (no, no, it’s not a yard sale… sheeesh!) pie jesu domine, beeeyatch!!
btw, why on earth would a thing with pineapple juice be called french?? swing a cat within a bajillion miles of france and you wouldn’t hit a fresh, locally-grown pineapple. would you? zut alors!
Is there such a thing as sweetened pineapple juice?
No loss of the symbol in these parts. Vodka martini, straight up, double olive, no pimento. Open a bottle of vermouth in an adjoning room if you must. At home, no need for ice or shaking or stirring, because basically it’s vodka straight from the freezer to the chilled glass, not even the most miniscule dilution from melting ice.
“-tini” just sounds girly. That’s why it’s a Cosmo(politan) not a Cranberrytini to Miranda, Charlotte, Carrie and Samantha. Because they are not, you know, girls.
There must be a sweetened pineapple juice somewhere. The King of Cocktail, Dale DeGroff wouldn’t specify UN UNnecessarily.
You’re lucky I didn’t disapprove your comment…I don’t normally abide by “Sex and the City” references. In honor of the delight that is Kristin Davis, I’ll let this one slide. (I just read that she’s a recovering alcoholic. Now I feel bad mentioning her name on a cocktails blog…oh well, she’s still hot.)
Stumbling to seek comfort fer sureee!