Category Travel

What’s the story of this cocktail recipe?

OK.  I’m hoping somebody out there knows the provenance and origins of this drink.  A gin martini, with equal parts of Grand Marnier, splash of vermouth (of course), and a twist of lemon.  A superb drink, it’s not sweet like many of the "fancy" martinis out there, so it appeals to me when I’m in the mood for something besides a classic martini (which requires a 4-5 : 1 ratio of gin to dry French vermouth, instead of this "wave the vermouth over the glass" crap.  Harrumph).

The drink in question came from numerous samplings at the Gallery Bar in the Biltmore Hotel in Los Angeles, over the last decade.  It’s apparently a cocktail of some antiquity, maintained at the Biltmore less for its crowd-pleasing characteristics for but its historic significance, as I vaguely recall from discussions with the bartender.  I travel to Los Angeles less than I prefer nowadays, so my opportunities to pursue the story are limited.  Does anyone out there know the story of this martini variant? 

Books #34 – 36: Carroll, Durrell, and Hofstadter

While in Mexico, I finished a few books. Not as many as I’d have liked, because for the first half of our trip we were busy snorkeling and for the second half, busy shedding pounds the hard way. But still, some reading was accomplished.

I finally finished Book #34, Sean Carroll’s Endless Forms Most Beautiful, a terrific popular book on “evolutionary developmental biology,” or “evo-devo.” Essentially, Carroll gives the non-geneticist a tour through current research on regulatory genes, genetic switches, and how these elements combine to form the actual patterns of metazoan development. While I knew a bit of this stuff going in, Carroll’s explanations were lucid and the writing a lot of fun. I recommend this book highly, and even specialists in the field will find it an interesting possibility to use in their courses.

Book #35 was a “vacation book,” Lawrence Durrell’s Reflections of a Marine Venus. To be fair, I’ve read this book a couple of times, mostly on sunny coasts, but it had been awhile. I love this book best of all Durrell’s non-fiction, and return to it whenever I wish to evoke the lazily “at home” feeling Durrell manages to communicate about rustic coastal landscapes. The beginning and end are poignant and always make me sad.

Richard Hofstadter’s early book The American Political Tradition was book #36. APT is a series of vignettes of major political figures, ranging from the “founders” collectively through John Calhoun, Wendell Phillips, Teddy Roosevelt, and culminating in FDR. The book, published in 1948, is obviously the product of a youthful progressive, with a pessimistic view of the motivations of political figures. Virtually none of the portraits in the book are laudatory, but instead attempt to situate each figure within the incentives and pressures to which Hofstadter viewed them as subject in their times. The result, even today, is a “fresh” look at key political figures in our history as well-rounded men, rather than one-dimensional icons. A terrific book.

Coming soon, notes on Banville (a couple more chapters!) and then probably a bit of time before #38. I started Jeffrey Stout’s Democracy and Tradition, which although a terrific book, is pretty dense.

Random Notes from London

I’m in London for a couple of days on business, and haven’t had time to write anything substantial. I do, however, really love this city. During some down time today, I wandered through Westminster Abbey, and lit a candle near the graves of Darwin and Issac Newton. The architecture is just incredible — the arches, the stained glass, the old wood, and the graves in the floor that are so old that the inscriptions are unreadable. I have to admit, the whole thing gave me a lump in the throat.

Gin and tonics are better here, because the tonic is real “Indian tonic” instead of the overly sweet stuff we get in America. People smoke everywhere, although they do seem to be getting better at segregating it for the benefit of non-smokers. But they really gotta work on breakfast — in my world, scrambled eggs shouldn’t have so much liquid they need a bowl.

Fortunately, good coffee seems to have invaded as well. So I’ll live.

And the Economist has a bookstore on Regent’s Street.