The Kangaroo Cocktail (aka "Vodka Martini")

"I'll have a Kangaroo. Shaken, not stirred."

"'I hope I've made it right,' she said. 'Six to one sounds terribly strong. I've never had vodka Martinis before.'"  The poor dear. We are, of course, referring to Solitaire in the novel Live and Let Die, trying to please her new man, James Bond, by making his drink correctly despite her anxiety about its (or his?) strength (power?).

The most well known tipple 007 is known to quaff, is of course, the "Vodka Martini". It is probably insufferably pretentious of me but I'm one of those irritating folks who believes there are only three drinks in the world that may be called a Martini and they all have gin and vermouth, dry, sweet or a combination of the two. Change the garnish from a lemon peel or olive to a cocktail onion and the drink becomes a Gibson despite the fact that it is really just a Martini with a different garnish. Swap out the gin for another principle spirit, such as bourbon, and you're just one dash of bitters (and a cocktail cherry) away from having yourself a Manhattan. By this logic, exchanging the gin for vodka should result in a drink with its own name; either a Vodka and Vermouth or something more exotic. In fact when vodka and vermouth were first mixed together in the 1920's, they did have an exotic name; they became: The Kangaroo Cocktail. Why that name didn't stand the test of time, one can only imagine.

I am the first to admit that making a Martini is infinitely easier than learning to appreciate one. The dry Martini is an acquired taste which is part of what gives it that enduring air of sophistication. Once you develop the taste, you feel almost as if you have earned your way into an exclusive club of men and women who know how to live and live well. Not everyone can or will develop a taste for the Martini and that only adds to the exclusivity of it all. It is snobbery, plain and simple but snobbery about the things we like is, perhaps, the only justifiable snobbery to embrace.

I suspect this is why people who love the Martini bristle at the Kangaroo (which is how I will refer to it from here on, so as to avoid confusion) being called a "Vodka Martini". Not only does it make it more complicated to order our beloved Martini, it seems like a cheat; a weak drink that does nothing to challenge the palette or earn the cache of sophistication but has, thanks in no small part to the popularity of James Bond, encouraged bartenders the world over to ruin our dry Martinis by shaking the life out of them.  It is bewildering to me how anyone, once appreciating a Martini would prefer a Kangaroo and from what my entirely unscientific research reveals, most people choose one or the other while it is a very rare breed drinks both. Those who favor the Kangaroo, generally do so because they do not like gin. Those who favor the Martini do so because we have learned to appreciate gin and vodka seems like weak tea in comparison.  James Bond is that rare specimen that drinks both. Which begs the question: When and why does one choose a Kangaroo over a Martini?

A friend of mine, who has nothing in common with 007 whatsoever beyond her appreciation of both drinks explained that, for her, the difference is analogous to choosing a lager over a stout; both may be delicious but sometimes something light and refreshing is more desirable than something challenging and complex. She also mentioned the importance in the garnish; preferring olives in her Kangaroo and a lemon twist in her Martini. In fact, the garnish (be it an olive, a lemon twist or black pepper) defines the kind of experience you can expect from a Kangaroo, simply because the vodka brings so little to the table in terms of flavor. This, I thought, might be a way for me to appreciate this drink more fully. After all, a Martini is either good or bad, depending on the execution. The garnish adds a dimension but it is the interplay between the botanical ingredients in the gin and the vermouth that really defines the experience. But a drink you can influence so strongly with just the garnish?  Now that's interesting!

James Bond prefers his Kangaroo to be called a "Vodka Martini" and for them to be made this way:

• 3 oz. (or six parts) vodka
• .5 oz. (or 1 part) dry vermouth

Shaken (not stirred) with ice, strained into a chilled cocktail glass with a large slice of lemon peel which is best twisted over the top to express the oils across the surface of the drink.

"I've never had a Kangaroo before."

It is in Moonraker that Ian Fleming specifies "real pre-war Wolfschmidt" vodka. The Wolfschmidt available to me was on the bottom shelf of my liquor store in a 1.75 liter plastic bottle for $12.00 U.S.  That seemed a bit dodgy to me so I chose Stolichnaya because it is Russian, made from grain (two of Bond's requirements in a vodka) and won a gold metal at an international trade show in Berne, Switzerland in 1953, just one year before Ian Fleming wrote Live and Let Die. In the first flush of the cold war, Russian vodka must have seemed a daring and very modern alternative to London dry gin.

With an olive as the garnish the vermouth and small amount of olive brine dominated the drink with a faint but pleasantly savory vegetal flavor with an almost creamy finish and smooth mouth feel. I enjoyed the drink but found myself wishing I was drinking a Martini instead. With a lemon twist, the drink becomes entirely lemon flavored (albeit dry) with the vermouth playing a supporting role by lending only a hint of sweetness and complexity to the finish. This certainly made for the more refreshing drink and made me yearn less for a Martini. Shaking the drink instead of stirring it made it quite a bit colder than is customary in a Martini (which is best stirred) but also watered the drink down quite a bit.  Since what flavor there is in vodka is not particularly to my liking, the cold and dilution came as a kindness. The lighter flavor profile as enhanced by the citrus was refreshing in the summer heat in a way a Martini would never be. And once I was able to appreciate the Kangaroo on it's own terms instead of as an ersatz Martini, I enjoyed it very much.

I do still find myself tilting at the windmill of the "Vodka Martini" moniker. Calling a Kangaroo a Martini diminishes it by forcing it to compete with a completely different cocktail when it should stand on its own; apples to oranges and all that. It occurs to me that what Ian Fleming did by popularizing vodka and vermouth as a "Vodka Martini" was set up a perpetual cold war between England and Russia, fought not with human lives but with the spirits most closely associated with each country. And with vodka rather winning the day, it makes one wonder whose side he was on...

The Negroni cocktail

If ever there was a post-prohibition cocktail that embodied the butch, steely eyed quality of the early cold-war era, it is the Negroni. According to lore, in Florence, around 1919, Count Camillo Negroni asked the barman at Caffe Giacosa to add some kick to his Americano with some gin. While gin is a brilliant mixer, I believe the Count could have done better but we'll get to that later.

 In the short story Risico (In the collection For Your Eyes Only), which was adapted in part and modified for the film For Your Eyes Only, 007 waits for Kristatos and enjoys a Negroni, specifying (his usual) Gordon's gin. The Negroni is commonly made with equal parts: sweet (aka Italian) vermouth, Campari and gin, usually served over ice, often with a splash of soda with a twist of orange peel. Occasionally an actual orang slice will be used but this is a forgivable offense in a Negroni.

This is all well and good but a few years ago a bartender on the left bank opined to me that, contrary to common belief and wisdom, the amounts of Campari and vermouth do better when they, put together, equal the amount of gin at which point it becomes: 2 parts gin to 1 part Campari and 1 part vermouth. This is an excellent idea and it, following my Parisian barman's advice, it is how I enjoy mine; served up (as shown,, although on the rocks is acceptable) with a twist of orange and partitioned thusly:

• 1.5 oz. gin 
• .75 oz. sweet vermouth (I like Dolin for balance) 
• .75 oz. Campari.Stir for at least 1 minute (dilution is not your enemy, it is, like fire, your powerful friend) 

Twist a strip of orange zest over the top of the drink so the oil covers the surface. Drop the peel in, sip and smile.

The Negroni is another varsity-level cocktail. James Bond was, if anything, a man's man and he proved it with his toughness as, in many ways, a drinker.  With the Negroni, I have had good, hard-drinking friends look at me as though I have served them turpentine when tasting it.  It is not a beginners cocktail. The proportions are irrelevant; Campari is an intense concoction, sweet, smoky, bitter and until you acquire a taste for it, anything made with it is... challenging. The Negroni is sweet upon introduction with the palette and then, quite suddenly, bitter and astringent. This is not exactly a negative critique. It's a fine, elegant cocktail, as is the Americano upon which it is, ostensibly, based. But it is, like any spy might be in or after the cold war, unfriendly to strangers. Courting it's favor is a worthwhile endeavor. It is refreshing, crisp and adds spice to life. 

And we could stop there.

But, that said, in the same way that the Martini and the Manhattan are related (initially only differing in proportions and choice of spirit), the Negroni also has a sibling and it surprises me, given James Bond's proclivity for bourbon (not to mention that of his creator Ian Fleming who, when instructed by his doctor to give up gin, simply took up bourbon instead), that he never once in the books or the films, enjoys a Boulevardier.

 The Boulevardier, was the signature drink of Erskine Gwynne (who, by all accounts, looked a bit like a cross between Roger Moore and Patrick MacGoohan, best known for playing John Drake and was turning down the role of James Bond prior to Sean Connery winning the part), expatriate writer, socialite and nephew of railroad tycoon Alfred Vanderbilt, who edited a magazine in Paris called The Boulevardier. It is, in almost every respect, a superior cocktail to the Negroni but it lacks its elite, macho bravado. Which is to say, it is so much more accessible than the Negroni that I suspect it, like the sweet Martini, is considered less-than by the monied and socially well-placed. After all, being in is only relevant as long as you keep someone out.

 But let's not let that silly consideration get in our way, shall we? By switching out the gin for bourbon, the Negroni becomes the Boulevardier which is a darker, sultry sibling of the Manhattan; where the vermouth and bourbon compliment the spice in each others flavor profiles, the addition of Campari is an inspiration in that it dampens the vermouth *and* the bourbon enough to bring out the crowd pleasing best in both spirits. Like most bourbon drinks, this is one that enhances and celebrates the flavor of the bourbon over the others but the result is still balanced and, in the opinion of this writer, more successful. The Campari brings out the vanilla notes in the bourbon and the vermouth enhances the spicier notes. If the Negroni is the light, refreshing sophistication of a cocktail party with the elite, the Boulevardier is the warm, sultry embrace of a new lover.  The Negroni might get you places but the Boulevardier will kiss you like a stranger.  The choice is yours. 

 I have to believe James Bond would have approved.

Officially, the Boulevardier is:

• 1.5 oz. bourbon 
• .75 oz. Campari 
• .75 oz. sweet vermouth 

...stirred long, garnished with a cherry and served up in a cocktail coupe.

My personal tweak is to add 2 goodly dashes of aromatic bitters, discard the cherry and employ an orange peel garnish, flaming it if I'm feeling particularly fabulous. (As long as you twist plenty of oil from the peel, the fire is not required.)

Your assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to make or order these two drinks and report back with your findings.

Good luck. And enjoy!

Martini

 Although James Bond is known, primarily through the films, as an aficionado, nay, a devotee to the Vodka "Martini", "shaken not stirred, in the books and even in the films, he drinks Martinis (a cocktail based on gin) as well as "Vodka Martinis".

In recent years, the trend has been to make a Martini as "dry" as possible; meaning: to use as little vermouth as possible.  This will certainly get you drunk quicker but will also produce a flavorless product.  The result is not improved with shaking, which aerates the beverage to such a degree that each sip of it, while still cold, yields a lighter, less flavorful experience.  This is great, if what you're after is a bland drink.  This is vodkas sweet spot: lack of flavor- each new brand guarantees a more pure and less flavorful product than the previously leading product. And fear of flavor is a very modern thing.

But I digress.  The Martini is not about vodka and it is not about lack of flavor. Quite the opposite, in fact.  The Martini is all about flavor, starting with the gin; a distilled spirit similar to vodka (at least in it's modern incarnation) but different in that the grain spirits that make it up are distilled with juniper, citrus elements and other herbal ingredients. And, of course, vermouth.  Dry vermouth.  Not the long-gone-rancid vinegar-like concoction on top of your dear old aunt Mildred's side bar but vermouth; a slightly sweet, slightly dry, slightly dry, herbal bitter of great complexity, beauty and delicacy based on a white wine and formulated with other secret herbs, across the world (initially France).

Today, a Martini is any cocktail served up in a triangular glass, regardless of the ingredients.  In the 1980's and '90's, it was a triangular glass, rinsed with the smallest amount of vermouth possible and filled to the brim with gin or vodka, shaken, not stirred, as the most famous super spy would demand.

Love 007 as we do, it hurts us more than it would him to say this but... James Bond was wrong.  Shaking a spirits-based drink isn't sacrilege, it's just ill-advised; you waste what's best about the drink and, paradoxically, don't get something as cold as you might like, nor do you get the dilution necessary to let the flavors in through the burn of the alcohol.

Okay, enough pontificating.  Let's get to the drink, shall we?

In the 1950's, when the majority of the stories were written, the Martini was quite a bit wetter than what would pass muster today.  And that's good.  It makes for less macho, less painful drink but more delicious and sophisticated experience.

According to Doctor Cocktail in Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails, the standard 1950's Martini cocktail was:

• 2.5 parts dry gin
• 1 part dry vermouth
• 1 dash orange bitters 
• with an olive or a twist of lemon
• stirred with ice for at least 30 seconds
• and served up or on the rocks

That's it.  And it's a fine drink. But nowhere in Ian Fleming's writings does he make mention of orange bitters, so we may assume what James Bond is drinking is akin to what the Savoy was serving at the time:

• 2/3 gin 
• 1/3 french (dry) vermouth

Shaken well and strained into a cocktail glass.

Personally, I prefer a 5 to 1 ratio (2.5 oz. gin to .5 oz. vermouth) with no bitters (as they there is plenty going on between the gin and vermouth) and an olive or two but the wetter version as documented in The Savoy Cocktail Book, is lovely and should be tried, if only for historical accuracy.  Whatever you do, do not cheat on the vermouth, either in quantity or quality. You will want to use fresh vermouth, putting it in the refrigerator when you're done. Vermouth is just fortified wine and will spoil like wine if left open at room temperature for more than a day or so.

Broker's Gin and Plymouth Gin both advertise themselves as being pure London Dry Gins and both are very fine products.  For American palettes (that is to say, in the U.S.), I prefer Broker's and enjoy Tanqueray Ten, particularly with Dolin vermouth. Is this what James Bond enjoyed? No. He drank Booth's House of Lord's gin, which is no longer available and he never had the brilliant Dolin products.  Sad for 007.  A company called Booth's still makes gin and you are welcome to give it a try. Please write in with your opinions.  Should we do the same, we will publish an update.

In the books, James Bond enjoyed a Martini (that is to say, NOT a vodka "martini") in Live and Let Die, Moonraker, Diamonds are Forever, From Russia with Love and Thunderball... almost always with his eating/drinking buddy Felix Leiter.

I suggest you enjoy one with a beautiful woman or a good friend who will have your back, come what may.  Ideally, your friend will look great in a sequined dress, fitting both categories.

Enjoy!