We gather like zombie herds around the company coffee pot each morning before getting a lick of work done, but the potential benefits a certain amount of alcohol can have on creativity and productivity are often overlooked or considered taboo.
Ironically, a 2012 study from the University of Illinois at Chicago, titled “Uncorking the Muse,” found that moderately intoxicated subjects produced more creative solutions and did so quicker than their sober counterparts.
It’s a poorly kept secret that the “three-martini lunch” was a workday tradition throughout the 1940s, ’50s and ’60s—Mad Men isn’t making this up—and though it has fallen out of favor in these times of more conservative consumption, the practice is kept alive today, largely by our politicians and bureaucrats.
But does it require Einstein’s mental acumen and an Olympian command of one’s physical faculties?
Not really—just a keen sense of purpose.
At Capital City Grill, over a recent lunch with a successful small business owner and a prominent event organizer, eyes turned to the martini menu. In addition to its signature cocktails, the downtown restaurant has a slate of new $2 versions, each a modestly portioned drink designed specifically for the “martini lunch.”
“We have noticed that more people are drinking during lunch breaks to celebrate small wins’ at work, or birthdays, or to unwind from a stressful morning, and even during business meetings over lunch,” says general manager Y’zell Williamson.
My companions tried the lime and cucumber-flavored Spa Martini and a pineapple-infused vodka sipper called The Beach. I went for the Lower Manhattan, a no-frills mash of Maker’s, sweet vermouth and bitters.
The first sip is a cold wave of anachronism. It’s lunch. It’s 2014. And I’m not Don Draper. The second sip breathes. The complexity of the whisky stays as stress retreats. Suddenly the rest of the day isn’t about survival anymore. It’s about success.
Now’s the time when networking men turn to sports talk and women start venting about their husbands, my friends say. For them, the martini lunch is about enjoying great conversation and breaking up the day with a little bit of fun. But there are dangers, they warn. Mainly, overindulging—obviously some hearty food and a couple glasses of water should accompany any drink—but also oversharing. “I don’t gossip about other people, but if I’m not careful, I’ll open up too much about something really personal,” one says.
Juban’s has long been a bastion of Baton Rouge’s martini lunch aficionados. Manager Scott Callais says guest favorites include the Juban’s Martini, made with citrus vodka and white cranberry juice, and the Katrice, featuring St. Germaine, lemon and champagne. “These do have alcohol in them, [but] they are a bit lighter for noontime because of the addition of fresh fruit juices,” Callais says.
So when indulging in a martini lunch, the answer, it seems—like that of a memorable cocktail or a life well lived—is all about finding the balance.
Curse you, James Bond. You have done more to make it hard to get a decent martini than any real person ever could.
Vodka? Okay. If you prefer your martinis numbingly tasteless. Shaken? Man, what were you thinking?
Any bartender worth his rim salt will tell you that shaking is a bad idea. First, you are aerating your gin for no good reason—it doesn’t improve the flavor. Second, by furiously shaking, you are reducing the amount of alcohol needed to fill a martini glass. Is that what you want?
So what do the shards of ice ruining your martini actually accomplish? I can’t identify any benefits. Hideous.
Here’s how the pros do it:
Fill a shaker half full of ice. At the same time, put ice into a martini glass to the rim.
Pour two shots of good gin into the shaker. With a long, metal spoon, stir (gently) for at least one minute. Easy going. You are not blending anything.
Empty the ice from the martini glass. Pour in half an ounce of vermouth. Swirl to coat, then toss the vermouth (into the sink).
Strain the stirred-not-shaken gin into the martini glass. Garnish with a twist of lemon or olives (one or three, never two—that’s bad luck).
