The Icy-Cold Ritual Behind Ernest Hemingway's Favorite Martini

Earnest Hemingway's life was, arguably, as much about boozing as it was about writing. This wasn't unusual for the Lost Generation, as they wrote, argued, and drank their way around interwar Europe. And they drank a lot. From F. Scott Fitzgerald's favorite 3-ingredient gin rickey to an ill-advised take on a Death in the Afternoon complete with wormwood-infused absinthe, near-constant consumption was the norm. Yet even within this less-than-sober cohort, the author of "The Sun Also Rises" was so entwined with alcohol that it became a core part of his legend. To this day many aspiring writers swear by the worst advice ever credited to him — write drunk, edit sober. It's a pithy line, but Hemingway probably never said it. He worked in the morning when he had a clear head, and disapproved of writers who imbibed on the job. 

The burly American was exacting, a quality visible in both his writing and his drinking. When Hemingway mixed himself an evening martini he had a very specific ritual: He liked a frozen glass, gin stirred with ice rather than shaken, a single teaspoon of vermouth, and a frozen Spanish cocktail onion. This respect for the drink he loved was reflected in his work, where he had a knack for creating a subtle atmosphere using dry martinis. As a gilded-age classic, the clear, boozy drink seemed to offer an antidote to the horrors of war and European countryside staples like heavy red wine and grappa, representing a cleanliness and modernity associated with the U.S. at the time.   

Despite the cocktail's simplicity, there's lively debate about how to make a truly great martini. As the drink contains only vermouth, vodka or gin, optional olive brine, and garnishes like olives or a twist of lemon, the smallest changes to ratios, liquor choice, or mixing method can radically alter the cocktail. Early recipes used gin (never vodka) in a 1:1 ratio with dry vermouth.Over the years, martinis became heavier on the gin and lighter on the vermouth, with exact ratios a matter of personal taste. In general, a martini with little vermouth is considered "dry," making Hemingway's favorite martini practically dehydrated. Sweet martinis, made with gin and sweet Rosso vermouth are at the other end of the spectrum, while a medium martini, also known as a perfect martini, lands right in the middle. 

Temperature is key to a good martini, and while some people order them on the rocks, most mixologists try to get the drink ice cold without diluting it. That's why martinis are usually stirred and James Bond has to specify that he likes his shaken. Hemingway nailed the optimal temperature by using a glass cold enough to stick to the hand and garnishing with a frozen onion. He didn't add any brine, neither onion nor olive, and he also skipped the optional twist of lemon and the spritz of citrus oil that comes with it. As it warms up, the Spanish cocktail onion might add a touch of salinity, evoking the Mediterranean Hemingway loved.

Was a martini Hemingway's favorite drink? Some would say definitely not. This isn't because Hemingway was lying about his love of gin and a touch of vermouth in an ice cold glass. Instead, it's a quirk of cocktail naming convention. Purists wouldn't consider Hemingway's drink a martini at all — and it's all because of that cocktail onion. Instead, they would label it a Gibson.

Other small swaps that technically make a martini into something else include combining both gin and vodka with Kina Lillet (or a close modern approximation of the now-defunct vermouth) to make a vesper, or using vodka instead of gin to mix what's sometimes called a kangaroo. Of course, if you add brine to any of these, they also become dirty.

Ultimately, the semantics of martini making probably wouldn't bother Hemingway too much. After all, his tastes were varied. Alongside an ice cold, bone-dry Gibson, the literary giant's unexpected favorites included the Gregorio's Rx, a cousin of the mojito, and the Hemingway Daiquiri. Given the chance, Hemingway might even have enjoyed an appletini or an espresso martini, without arguing about the accuracy of the "tini" suffix.