Benjamin Franklin is attributed with saying “Beer is proof God wants us to be happy.” This is certainly true, but the Martini is proof God wants us to appear classy until we fall over. The artwork of the 1920’s is littered with stylish flappers and the like, all sipping vodka martinis with olives in them. It is James Bond’s favourite drink. As it happens, it’s also mine.

I have, therefore, taken it upon myself to find the best martini in St. Andrews.  Before anybody asks, “Are you going to go to every pub in town and drink a martini? Won’t you be too sloshed to remember to what each one was like?”, I will tell you that’s not the plan. First of all I eliminated the pubs where I would get a kicking for asking for a martini (the Keys, the Red Reiver, etc.). Then I haughtily eliminated those pubs which serve good beer, but clearly are not the place for a nice martini (the Central, the Castle, etc.) The remainder of establishments then select themselves.

I will now regale you with the tales of the best and worst martinis in town; an experience I shared with this newspaper’s very own editor, Monsieur Cusack. This may come as a surprise to many of our readers, but Broon’s makes the worst martini know to man.  The first time I dared imbibe at this cursed cesspool of arrogance and terrible drinks I was treated to a shot of vodka and a shot of vermouth in a highball glass.  Any martini afficianado would be appalled.

For those of you that don’t know, vermouth is a type of bitter, made famous by Martini & Rossi, which is best added as a spray to the martini. After a second attempt at getting a decent drink from these heathens, I had to gently prod the barman into actually shaking the martini and putting it in a martini glass. It was served with only one shot of vodka, rather than the customary two, and it did not contain a single olive. Some among you may be thinking “What kind of man demands an olive in his drink?” With a drink in which flavour is as delicately balanced as that of the martini, an olive adds that extra bit of subtle taste that makes a martini more than just funny tasting vodka. There were more terrible things about this drink (including the outrageous price, over £6), but I fear that I have neither the room nor the energy to continue the diatribe.

Now, to the joys of everything that makes a martini great.  This may also surprise our readers, but the best martini in town (and one of the best I’ve ever tasted) is served at Ma Bell’s. I suspect it was the barman (whose name I don’t recall) that made it so well, as 99% percent of the taste of the martini is in how it is made. The barman chilled the glass beforehand, mixed a perfect blend of Absolut vodka and a hint of vermouth with ice, and topped it off with a surprisingly fresh olive. This fine martini was half the price of the Broon’s abomination, and the barman was more than happy to actually make the drink. (As an aside, barmen are often cross at having to do anything more strenuous than pulling a pint of beer. I know this because I’m a barman myself).

To ensure that this was not a fluke, I ordered another martini, intending to truly test this young man’s mettle. He did not, however, crumple under the pressure. He made another martini, perhaps better than the last, and forever made a friend and admirer out of yours truly.

Before concluding, I will inform the reader how to make a perfect martini in the off-chance that the poor lost soul from Broon’s is reading this:
Step 1:  Chill martini glass with ice and soda water.
Step 2:  Mix two measures vodka and a dash of vermouth in martini mixer and shake
Step 3:  Strain into glass after emptying ice and soda water.
Step 4:  Add olive and stir

So there you have it, the perfect martini.  And remember, don’t ever go to Broon’s for a martini when Ma Bell’s is just around the corner.