I have given up the weekday martini because, frankly, I was missing too many good times, zoned out to the delights of Hendricks, Tanqueray or Bombay. I am now just zoning out on the weekends when a cold, crisp martini still signals a celebration. It's Friday! It's Saturday!
As Ogden Nash put it, in "A Drink with Something in It":
There is something about a Martini,
A tingle remarkably pleasant;
A yellow, a mellow Martini;
I wish I had one at present.
There is something about a Martini,
Ere the dining and dancing begin,
And to tell you the truth,
It is not the vermouth-
I think that perhaps it's the gin.
Is it Friday yet?
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