Of Chain Saws and Martinis

I know, I know, chain saws and martinis don’t mix. But there is something else they have in common, at least in my life: they are best served by someone else. And at my age, I need them both. The chain saw to keep up with the astonishing tree and shrubbery growth around my property, and the martini to reward me for not crawling under the blankets and leaving these 2.5 acres to revert to their natural state.

After 25 plus years of home-ownership, I’ve learned to do a lot, thanks to the magic of YouTube (and the endless number of people willing to film themselves doing all manner of home repair). If you’d told me when I was a teenager that I’d be able to fix a dishwasher, operate a power washer, build gopher-proof garden beds, tile a kitchen—you get the idea—I’d have laughed, and probably cried about all those future chores. I definitely would have taken shop class. But I draw the line at chain saws and martinis. In the case of the former, well let’s just say that’s a job best left to professionals. I have all my original limbs and digits to prove that. As for the martini, that falls in the category of “what you don’t know can’t hurt you.” I am not a big drinker, mostly out of self-preservation, having seen what it can do to those who over-imbibe. To put it plainly: if I never learn how to make a good martini, there is no chance of ever drinking alone in front of the TV. That may work for some, but for me, the martini is a social drink!

I love a good martini. I was introduced to this marvelous beverage by my friend Marilyn, at that venerable old San Francisco steakhouse Harris Restaurant, when I was about 25. At the time I felt so sophisticated, and honestly, I still do. Trendy cocktails come and go with their fancy names, craft booze, and sun-kissed botanicals, but nothing ever brings me quite the same joy as that martini. That said, there are mediocre martinis, which will inevitably bring me less joy. But in the 15 years I’ve lived in Mendocino, there is one bartender, who works most reliably on Tuesdays, who makes my favorite martini. His name is John, and you can find him at the historic Mendocino Hotel. He’s not a chatty fellow, but he knows his cocktails. I complimented his technique once and he replied: “It ain’t rocket science.” Oh John, to me it is. Even the lovely bartender he trained does not have his loving touch.

Every martini lover has their preferences, and mine is this: Bombay Sapphire gin, served up, with a twist. If I’m feeling spendy, it’s Hendricks gin, and now I’ve discovered this beautiful Grey Whale Gin (available locally at Harvest). But it is always gin, no vodka for me. God bless the juniper berry. The ‘up” refers to serving it at a cold temperature (some do prefer it “neat,” aka no chill), and of course, there is the traditional olive. I’m not an olive lover, hence the lemon twist, but I did have a martini once with an olive stuffed with blue cheese that was surprisingly delicious. And of course you can head into “dirty martini” territory which includes the olive juice, or you can order it “dry” which earns you extra vermouth. Thanks to James Bond, we have the “shaken not stirred” preference when it comes to how the martini is mixed, but there is quite a bit of debate on which is the better method. I love watching the bartender do the cocktail shaker dance. But the final piece of my martini love letter is the barware. From the cocktail set with the gleaming shaker, stirrer, and jigger, to the iconic martini glasses, this drink is equal parts ritual, taste, and aesthetic. I recently purchased a set of beautiful glasses at a Catholic Church yard sale, which I have yet to serve martinis in given my resistance to learning how to make them. I’m waiting for a guest to fill them for me!

Celebrating last day on the job.

So friends, a toast to your health and happiness. After this post, I’m feeling a tad thirsty, and you can guess where I’m headed. This is post is dedicated to all the friends and family who've clinked glasses with me over the years. You know who you are, and I'm waiting to be served.

Note: I wrote this post the week before the pandemic hit and just didn't feel like putting it up, because things have been so sad and tense. I have not had my favorite martini in months because dining is closed, but I have perfected an at-home gin gimlet. My family bought me a shaker one month into the pandemic, and it's a staple around here these days, lol.