Pour in 3 to 4 shots of good gin or good vodka.
Stir it well for about 30 seconds.
Let it sit for about 30 seconds.
Stir it again for another 30 seconds.
Let it sit for another 30 seconds.
Stir it quickly.
Strain it into a chilled glass.
Garnish with either 1 or 3 olives （never 2） or a lemon twist.
Drink it.
Become a new person.
I discovered Martinis after graduating college, at a restaurant called Café Luxembourg on the Upper West Side of New York. It is an upscale French bistro that has been serving consistently good food for about forty years and I am happy to say is still extant. I didn’t have much money at the time, but I would often sit at the polished zinc bar, nurse a Martini or two, and partake of the free hard-boiled eggs that were on offer. A terrible diet, yes, but I was young and this was my right. I was so happy just to be perched at the bar in this kinetic environment reading, writing, or simply observing the well-heeled as they ordered meals and bottles of wine I hoped I could one day afford. At the time Martinis were not nearly as fashionable as they are now, nor were there as many brands of gin or vodka on the market as there are today. But as a hopeless romantic who had a penchant for the 1930s and ’40s, I drank them in the hope that they might imbue me with the charm and savoir faire of William Powell or the aforementioned master of caustic wit and wisdom No?l Coward. I normally asked for them to be made with Bombay gin, which was a stretch for my rather tight budget but well worth it. Then, around the mid-eighties, Bombay released their Sapphire brand. Brilliant marketing caused it to become all the rage, and after tasting it once, I immediately “upgraded” my Martinis despite my meager earnings. Since my early days at Café Luxembourg, the Martini has been a staple of my diet.
In fact, it is not rare for me to sport a portable Martini kit on a film set, which I put to good use at the end of a day of filming when I have settled back into the makeup chair and the “mask” is removed, as we actors pompously say. （Well, not me, but probably someone like Ryan Reynolds would say that.）I I have used this kit or others like it for many years and it gives me great pleasure to mix a Martini for anyone who craves one at wrap as I do.
During the filming of Captain America, the director, Joe Johnston, became so used to them that even if I’d wrapped a bit early, his assistant would knock on the door and ask if I could wait around just a bit longer to make Joe his evening elixir. （I was more than happy to oblige, within reason of course, as he was such a great fellow.） On the same film, Chris Evans, Hayley Atwell, and I bonded over Trailer-tinis and we have remained close friends ever since. The wonderful director Barry Sonnenfeld and I always drank a Martini together during our two collaborations on the last shot of every day of filming. For those lucky enough not to be in “the biz,” the last shot of the day is known as “the Martini” and we were simply making sure it lived up to its name. （Speaking of names, I’ll pick up all those I’ve just dropped a little later.）
Over a decade ago, I was lucky enough to work with the brilliant makeup artist Peter King on The Lovely Bones. Together we came up with the look of the horrid person I was playing, a rapist/serial killer named Mr. Harvey. The director, Peter Jackson; Peter King; and I felt it was vital that the character be as unremarkable looking as possible within the setting of 1970s American suburbia. We achieved this with a wig, false teeth, a fake mustache, blue contact lenses, and a lightening of my skin tone. （Why they didn’t hire someone else is still a mystery to me.） With the addition of a false paunch, drab attire, and aviator glasses, I was practically unrecognizable and was glad of it as I found the role to be more emotionally and psychologically taxing than any I had ever played. For this reason I could not wait to “shed” Mr. Harvey at the end of every day.
Removing that benign face of evil was freeing indeed, and I must admit, never was a post-wrap Martini more needed. I’d stir up a couple for Peter and myself （luckily he shared my affinity for them and then some）， and into the stemmed glass would slip all of the anxiety and emotional discomfort I had felt during that day’s filming. Those happy few who have ever experienced a well-made straight-up, dry Martini will know that after the first sip, one is instantly soothed and the world is set right. Of course, any drink at the end of a working day takes the edge off, but a well-made Martini eases and polishes that edge like no other drink I know. And after the second one, that edge is practically beveled.
In short, whether it is made with gin or with vodka, a Martini is the quintessence of elegance that we all aspire to and believe we acquire when we drink one. However, just as they can elevate a body, they can also be the source of a soul’s downfall.