Spain likes gin. It consumes more gin per capita than any other country in Europe. Everywhere I went during my recent trip to Spain, I saw Beefeater gin behind the bar. Seagram’s gin, which has zero presence in the American market, is ubiquitous there. And, of course, there are many Spanish-made gins, such as Gin Mare (recently bought by Brown Forman), Mahon Gin and Larios (owned by Beam Suntory).
A lot of this gin goes into Gin Tonics, the goblet-bound Spanish style of over-the-top Gin & Tonic. But some goes into Martinis, particularly at the old-school Spanish cocktail bars. I had more Martinis than Gin Tonics while I was in Spain recently, because that’s just the way I roll. And each time I ordered one, I got something completely different. Here are my five most memorable Spanish Martini experiences.
1862 Dry Bar—The Golden Martini
This classically oriented craft cocktail bar is among Madrid’s most famous. The owner is Alberto Martinez, a tall young man with a friendly face and a distinguished mop of prematurely graying hair. I had met him twice in Brooklyn, so I was excited to finally visit his bar. The bar is intimate and has an old-school feel. The bottles on the back bar glow with golden light. Behind them is a mirror that stretches to the ceiling. The bar itself is adorned with a quote from Raymond Chandler rhapsodizing about the Gimlet.
Martinez’ allegiance to tradition is telegraphed by the bar’s name, which, of course, refers to the publication year of bartender Jerry Thomas’ seminal cocktail manual. You can get just about any classic cocktail here. There is also a list of “Signature” cocktails. At the top of that page is the Golden Martini. It’s a twist on the Gimlet made with gin, vermouth, curaçao and lime cordial. The drink is the work of Angel San Jose, a bartender in his late 50s. Alberto says San Jose represents the old, pre-craft-bartending-era of Spanish bartending. Angel previously worked at Casino de Madrid and the Dry Martini at the Hotel Media Fenix before Martinez snatched him up for 1862 Dry Bar.
Martinez introduced the Golden Martini to me as a cocktail that ought to be a modern classic. But, he later admitted, “It’s not a modern classic, because it’s never been served outside of the bars where Angel would be working.” It ought to be. It’s a good, simple, straightforward cocktail.
Del Diego—The Old-School Serve
We went to this Madrid institution at the suggestion of our friends Martin and Sandy Doudoroff, who particularly lauded the house Martini service. We were very tired after a full day of sightseeing, but, determined to experience the bar, we made the trek to Del Diego nonetheless; it would be the last bar we visited in Madrid.
Were we ever glad we made the trip! The bar was opened in 1992 by Fernando Del Diego, who was a student of Pedro Chicote, a legendary Spanish bartender. Decor-wise, it still looks a bit trapped in the ‘90s. So is the menu, which has all the classics, but also a hefty vodka section and passé selections like the Tequila Sunrise, Apple Martini and Bullshot.
But we didn’t care about those. We were there for the Dry Martini.
The serve was indeed remarkable. It went like this. The gin and (very little) vermouth were poured in a pint glass filled with ice. The bartender, dressed in white shirt and tie, then stabbed the hell out of it with a bar spoon. No shaking, no stirring; stabbing. It was then poured into a frosted Martini glass. These were brought to our two-top table by the bar. The Martinis were great; stiff and cold. But here’s the kicker. Halfway through, as the drinks began to warm, the waiter came over with fresh frozen glasses and transferred the remaining liquid into them.
I’ve never seen anything like it. (If anyone reading this has experienced this technique, please leave a comment below.) It’s the sort of extra-mile gesture that makes you pledge allegiance to a bar for the rest of your life.
Boadas—The Thrown and The Not
Walking into 1862 Dry Bar and Del Diego, I didn’t know what to expect. I was unversed in their ways with the Martini. Walking into Boadas Cocktails in Barcelona, I thought I knew what to expect.
I didn’t get it.
Boadas is the cradle of the thrown cocktail. They kept the practice alive for decades when everyone else had abandoned it. I had heard for years of the thrown Martinis of Boadas. So, when I sat down at a stool in the bar, I knew my order beforehand. A Martini.
It was stirred.
You’ve never seen two more crestfallen people than my wife and I as we were handed our stirred Martinis. Boadas recently changed hands. The last of the Boadas family—Maria, daughter of founder Miguel Boadas—died in 2017, leaving it in the hands of bartender Jerónimo Vaquero. Vaquero sold it this past year to Simone Caporale, an Italian-born star of the modern cocktail era who owns the Barcelona bar SIPS. I had been told by a source that there was “less throwing” at the new Boadas, and by others that the transition had been a trifle rocky. But I hadn’t expected this.
I asked the server why the Martinis had been stirred, not thrown. He explained to me that a stirred Martini results in a colder Martini.
This I knew. I know that a stirred Martini will be colder than a thrown Martini. But that is not why I order a Martini at Boadas. I order a Martini for the traditional and time-honored show of tossing the liquid from one vessel to another.
I asked the server what drink we might order that would result in a thrown cocktail. He suggested a Bamboo or an Adonis, as they are cocktails that contain wine (sherry) and benefit from the throwing technique. (A Martini doesn’t contain wine?) We ordered those drinks. They were thrown. We were happy. But still upset.
But that misadventure couldn’t keep us away. Boadas is a beautiful bar that radiates atmosphere. It is a privilege just to sit inside and drink in the history. So, we returned the next day in the middle of the afternoon. Boadas was quiet and far less crowded than it had been the previous evening. We sat at the bar and— gluttons for punishment that we are—ordered two more Martinis.
They were thrown.
Now, I don’t know if we got thrown cocktails because a different bartender was behind the stick, or because we were tagged from the night before as thrown-cocktail people. But, whatever the reason, I was happy to finally be served a thrown Martini at Boadas. And, you know, it was cold enough.
Paradiso—The Frozen Stalagmite
Paradiso was the only bar in Barcelona where I made a reservation. I felt it was warranted, given that the bar had won top honors on the recent 50 Best Bars list, and would likely be swarmed every night. We arrived on time. I don’t know if they lost our reservation or what, but they seemed confused by our arrival and we were asked to wait for 15 minutes. But we eventually got in.
Paradiso is the kind of modern cocktail bar where every cocktail arrives complete with set and costume. The vessels are custom made, the presentations elaborate. There is plenty of ooh-and-ahh factor. I call it the Artesian Effect, because I associate the approach with the over-the-top London hotel bar Artesian during its early 2010s heyday. (Though you could call it the Nightjar Effect, if you prefer, after another London bar that rose to prominence around the same time as Artesian.)
The night before, we had been waited upon at The Punch Room by a former Paradiso staffer and she recommended three drinks: Legacy, Great Gatsby and the Supercool Martini. We ordered the latter two, plus the Marco Polo. The Marco Polo came with a compass. The Great Gatsby emerged from a smoke-filled glass canopy. But nothing beat the bells and whistles of the Supercool Martini. The drink, which is one of Paradiso’s signatures, was made with Tanqueray Ten distilled with fennel and oregano, dry Mancino vermouth infused with mustard seed, and a very, very cold, frozen gordal olive. The build was described to me this way:
It’s served in a very chilled martini glass with a frozen gordal olive, typically from Andalusia, at the bottom of the glass, which helps us to recreate a frozen stalagmite when pouring our water (super important to keep controlled the level of alcohol of the cocktail); then we spray our dry vermouth infused with mustard seed and we pour directly from a frozen bottle our gin that we redistill with fennel and dry oregano. As last touch, we finish up with a touch a freshness using a squeeze of grapefruit peel.
A small but significant pillar of ice did indeed develop atop the olive when the water was poured into the glass, which made for very pleasing eye candy. The Supercool Martini exists somewhere in Dukes Martini territory in that it is prepared table side, there is minimal vermouth, and the gin is poured straight from a frozen bottle. The water-turned-ice feature sets it apart.
For a VIDEO FIELD REPORT of the Supercool Martini being made, click here.
Dry Martini—Martini No. 1,118,987
Of all the Spanish bars where I ordered a Martini, the one I got at Dry Martini surprised the least. Dry Martinis are the stock and trade of Dry Martini, an old-style bar that opened in 1978 and tallies the Martinis is sells on a lighted board, like McDonald’s counting out how many they’ve served.
The stenciled sign behind the bar, calling for equal parts London dry gin and French vermouth, is deceptive. That’s just an old-timey decoration. The Martinis here are bone dry. Dry Martini’s house Martini is made with Bombay Sapphire and just a few dashes of dry vermouth. The garnish is up to you. I usually go for a twist but, in such a den of hidebound Martini tradition, an olive seemed the right choice.
Behind the bar, next to old empty bottles of gin and vermouth, a framed poster behind the bar that reads, “Dry. Dry. Dry. Dry. Dry. Dry. Dry.,” the words forming the shape of a Martini glass. Elsewhere on the walls are paintings of Martinis by artists Gerald Murphy and Barnaby Conrad III.
My Martini was number 1,118,987. But I’m not so sure about the accuracy of that tote board. When the bartender was clicking in my and Mary Kate’s Martinis, his finger slipped and he added an extra digit. He let it stand.
Golden Martini
Angel San Jose, Madrid, Spain
1 1/2 ounces gin
2/3 ounce dry vermouth
1/2 ounce Pierre Ferrand Dry Curaçao
1/3 ounce Monin Cordial de Lima
Combine the ingredients in a mixing glass filled with ice. Stir until chilled, about 15 seconds. Strain into a chilled coupe. Express an orange twist over the surface of the drink and drop it into the glass.
Odds and Ends…
A new drinks menu has recently dropped at Val’s, the agave bar from the folks behind Cure and Peychaud’s in New Orleans. Among the drinks are the Hermasillo, an Old-Fashioned twist with hints of smoke and banana; and the Vesperado, made with mezcal and Lilllet Rose… There are signed copies of my book Modern Classic Cocktails at Garden District Book Shop in New Orleans. Go get ‘em!… Perhaps no airport in the United States better represents the foodstuffs of its city than Louis Armstrong International Airport. There are outposts of legendary Big Easy eating destinations such as Dooky Chase’s, Cafe du Monde, Central Grocery, Angelo Brocato, Cure, Mondo and, if you must, Lucky Dog… The Edward Hopper exhibit at the Whitney, which zeros in on the painter’s depictions of New York City, is highly recommended. The show runs through March 5… Trick Dog is getting nostalgic. The San Francisco cocktail bar has launched its 18th menu. The theme is “Museum of Trick Dog Art.” The menu offers a retrospective of a decade of Trick Dog cocktails and menu art, with a custom-designed tri-fold menu (reminiscent of a museum pamphlet) and original Trick Dog menus framed and displayed throughout the bar like at a gallery installation… The Hawksmoor steakhouse in New York is bringing the great British tradition of the Sunday Roast stateside. The official launch of the weekly roast is Jan. 29… Sources tell The Mix that Eastern Standard, the iconic Boston cocktail bar that closed during Covid, will reopen in a new location near Fenway Park. Jackson Cannon will again lead the bar program… The Brooklyn cocktail bar, Oui Cocktail Lounge, will on Jan. 22 host Netflix’s “Drink Masters” Season 1 champion, “LP” O’Brien, who will conduct a master mixology class. The two 2-hour time slots are at 6 p.m. and 8:30 p.m. Tickets start at $25.
The Martini Variations: Postcards From Spain, Part 2
We just experienced the cold glass swap at the American Bar at the Savoy in London. Lovely.
The linked video has Ginebra San Miguel gin listed for the Golden Martini. Was that what you had? Any recommendations? I'm not familiar with Ginebra. Thanks!!