When is a dirty martini not dirty, and other Zen koans

After the Tuxedo led me to the Maturin, I fixed my eye on the Tuxedo No. 2.

In full faith her virtue I pursued, no matter how worn the track or dark the alley, her fleet foot a flickering beacon to my thirst. No place for a naif. And yet, even the worm may turn. Good years are lost, but good may come again. Here, now, here is good. The pure, bittersweet punch of love...or is it olive? High pitched, and clear-toned, not stuck in the gutter like a dirty martini, nor either a dirty old man.

We are still in Spain, and I have Matador on the tongue. Martini...Maturin...Matador. But then again, we have stumbled upon a reversal of fortune. The good sort, unexpected but welcome. And is there any writer who sings the Spanish soul, and the reversals it embodies, more clearly than Arturo Perez-Reverte?

Reverte

2 oz Gin Mare

3/4 oz Manzanilla (Lustau Papirusa)

1/4 oz Luxardo Maraschino

2 dashes Miracle Mile celery bitters

4 drops 20% saline solution

40s stir

lemon twist

A dirty Martini without the dirt. Pure olive, and an olive branch from Fate herself for anyone who's been searching for this flavor in a Martini, perhaps without even knowing it. A bit too hot as it warms, and the celery begins to buzz around like a housefly. Next time, a full ounce of sherry, a dash less of celery, only a bar spoon of Maraschino, and a rinsed Castelvetrano olive to boot.