The Best American Poetry

"Breasts like Martinis" [by Jill McDonough]

Breasts Like Martinis

The bartender at Caesar's tells jokes we've heard a hundred times.
A shoelace walks into a bar, for example. I whisper
Sarah Evers told me that joke in sixth grade and Josey says
My brother Steve, 1982. A whore, a midget, a Chinaman,
nothing we haven't heard. Then a customer asks
Why are breasts like martinis? and they both start laughing.
They know this one, everybody knows this one, except
us. They don't even bother with the punch line. The bartender just says
Yeah, but I always said there should be a third one, on the back,
for dancing, dancing with the woman-shaped air behind the bar, his hand
on the breast on her back. So we figure three is too many,
one's not enough. Okay; we can do better than that. I like my breasts
like I like my martinis, we say: Small and bruised or big and dry. Perfect.
Overflowing. Reeking of juniper, spilling all over the bar.
When I have a migraine and she reaches for me, I say
Josey, my breasts are like martinis. She nods, solemn:
People should keep their goddamn hands off yours. How
could we tell these jokes to the bartender? We can't. He'll never know.
I say it after scrubbing the kitchen cabinets, and she gets it:
dirty and wet. Walking in the wind, Josey says My breasts
are like martinis and I hail a cab, know she means shaking, ice cold.

– Jill McDonough

(Originally in Slate, Oct. 23, 2007)

"Toasts" [by Lee Upton]

Toasts

To the last credentials we have:
bottoms up.
Cheers to the skipper.

Be a sport.
During a nap
may you put in a brief appearance

in heaven and discover
they’re making a better heaven at last!
May this wine bless the sunlight

that kissed its life,
and for every toast you raise
may the one you love toast you twice

and not her husband.
And may the secrets
that chew like termites through every human heart

lose their appetites.
And may the long corridors of jokes
not even once silt up for you.

And when you are naked
may you excite speculation
rather than simple tolerance.

And may you never be ashamed
of your happiness.
And when nettles fly into your mouth

may they turn into wine,
and may you drink
until you’re conscious.

Lee Upton

--published in River Styx 76/77 (2008): 2-3

The Collinses of Summer versus the Spirits of December

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Had it been summer they would have gone out together and indolently sipped two long Tom Collinses, as they wilted their collars and watched the faintly diverting round of some lazy August cabaret. But it was cold outside, with wind around the edges of the tall buildings and December just up the street, so better far an evening together under the soft lamplight and a drink or two of Bushmill's, or a thimbleful of Maury's Grand Marnier, with the books gleaming like ornaments against the walls, and Maury radiating a divine inertia as he rested, large and catlike, in his favorite chair.

-- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned

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The Daiquiri

Forget the frozen strawberry confections. The classic daiquiri is the perfect summer drink. 5 parts light rum, 2 parts fresh-squeezed lime juice, sugar. Shake with ice. Serve without lime-wedge.

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I came across a martini recipe -- in an old issue of Tin House -- that called for rinsing the glass with Pernod, retaining a drop or two, before adding the gin and the vermuth and stirring the contents exactly twenty times in a pitcher or shaker full of ice cubes. I tried it and recommend it heartily. Serve with olives.

-- DL

The Gimlet

Among detective novelists, Raymond Chandler was the king of the cocktail. Philip Marlowe without a drink is very nearly as unthinkable as Humphrey Bogart – who played Marlowe in "The Big Sleep" (1946) – without fedora, trench coat, and unfiltered cigarette. Chandler was very particular about his drinks and liked switching favorites from book to book. In "The Lady in the Lake" (1943), a "wizened waiter with evil eyes and a face like a gnawed bone" serves Marlowe a Bacardi cocktail – we'd probably call it a daiquiri (juice of one lime, two shots of rum, sugar). By the time of "Playback" (1958), Chandler's last book, Marlowe has begun to favor double Gibsons (gin and vermouth as in a Martini, but with a cocktail onion substituted for the olive or lemon twist).

Chandler liked gimlets so much he included a recipe in "The Long Goodbye" (1953). In the book Marlowe and his pal Terry Lennox make a habit of meeting at Victor's and drinking gimlets. "What they call a gimlet is just some lime or lemon juice and gin with a dash of sugar and bitters," Terry Lennox says scornfully. "A real gimlet is half gin and half Rose's Lime Juice and nothing else. It beats martinis hollow." (He's right, though I’d go a little easier on the Rose’s and serve it on the rocks.) Yet even the flawed gimlets at Victor's do the trick. Says Terry Lennox, "I like bars just after they open for the evening. When the air inside is still cool and clean and everything is shiny and the barkeep is giving himself that last look in the mirror to see if his tie is straight and his hair is smooth. I like the neat bottles on the bar back and the lovely shining glasses and the anticipation. I like to watch the man mix the first one of the evening and put it down on a crisp mat and put the little folded napkin beside it. I like to taste it slowly. The first quiet drink of the evening in a quiet bar."

-- DL

Adventures in Chinese Cuisine - Day 4 (by Joe Kruzich)

Today is our discussion of Bai Jiu, that great and strong Chinese liquor that just the mention of will bring a smile to all Northern Chinese men - the ultimate male bonding drink in China.  Most Bai Jiu is a sorghum-based liquor with anywhere from 80 to 120 proof.  This drink is probably as old as Chinese civilization and is a staple of any great Chinese banquet.  Usually it is consumed in small shot glasses with a toast and then the expression gan bei, literally meaning dry the glass or bottoms up.  Like any good liquor the price and quality can vary vastly, from the high end a good bottle can set you back $3,000 to $4,000, but a good cheap bottle can cost as little as $10 or so.  Generally, the older the better and more expensive.

It has to be said that any locality worth its salt in China, especially in Northern China, has its own brand of Bai Jiu, and usually they are pretty good.  But the two most famous Chinese brands are Moutai and Wuliangye (or 5 grain bai jiu), and if you really want to impress a Chinese dinner guest, this is the liquor of choice.  There is also a special government Moutai Baijiu, which is supposed to be the preferred drink of the Central government leadership and prviliged Party members, though I have consumed it several times with provincial Party leaders and businessmen, so I don't think it is as exclusive as it used to be.  I have to say, I have probably tasted about 20 different types of Bai Jiu in my 4 years in China, and there really is a difference in quality between the local brew and the two national brands.  Moutai is consistently strong and usually higher on the proof meter, though Wuliangye is smoother with perhaps a slightly lower alcohol content.  At a certain point though it just seems like drinking rubbing alcohol, though Wuliangye and some of the local varieties can be a bit on the sweet and smooth side. 

But the real point of drinking Bai Jiu is not the taste, it is the social bonding that goes on that is key.  In the typical chinese banquet you have a lazy susan in the middle of the table and then the waiter will start to bring the ordered dishes to the table.  They will put the dishes at 3, 6, 9 and 12 o'clock and at the same time start filling each person's small shot glass with bai jiu.  When the fourth dish is placed on the lazy susan, that is the cue for the host to make the first toast, usually a welcoming of the guests and a short statement about friendship, etc.  Depending on the occassion and the people, the banquet can quickly descend to a drinking frenzy, with rapid fire toasts offered by everyone at the table, one after another.  When it is clear the dinner is coming to end it is also time for the host to make a toast thanking everyone for coming and sharing in the meal.  As you can see, the Chinese meal and drinking etiquette, though becoming more and more informal, is still influenced greatly by tradition and formality.  What is more important, the meal and drinking is hugely important in bonding and creating relationships and friendships.  To operate effectively in China as a diplomat, a businessman, or a respectful tourist, it really is necessary to know this ritual and engage in it as much as you can (note:  it is still possible to operate effectively in China without drinking, though it is much more difficult). 
There is also another drink that is well-known in China, and not nearly packing the some kind of punch as bai jiu, and that is Huangjiu, or Yellow wine or Yellow liquor.  This is a much sweeter alcohol than your typical Bai Jiu and is usually ony about 50-70 proof.  It is hugely popular with the Japanese, in fact on occassions when I go down to the most famous area in China for Huangjiu, I will usually bring back a bottle for a Japanese friend in Shenyang and you should just see how his face lights up with happiness at just the sight of Haungjiu.  Now the most famous place in China for HuangJiu is Shaoxing, a town just one hour from the beautiful city of Hangzhou.  Since this is a literary web site, Shaoxing also has relevance as it is the home of China's most famous modern novelist, Lu Xun, and also the home of "Stinky Tofu", a delicacy of the town. 
I also told you that every city usually has its own Bai Jiu, but I forgot to mention that many little villages also will brew their own "moonshine", or bai jiu.  One of the most interesting meals I have had in the past few years was while taking a trip to rural Heilongjiang, about an hour outside of Harbin to eat a typical village meal.  Much to my surprise as I was munching on tofu wraps with cucumbers, onions and a spicy sauce stuffed inside, the host brought in some very, very local BaiJiu.  I was told the proof was about 150 and it was the strongest liquor on the planet in my estimation.  Every drink was like drinking moonsine and it burned every part of my throat and body as the drink proceeded from my mouth to my stomach.  It was a fascinating lunch, but I just thank God that I wasn't driving back to Harbin that day.  Well, today I forgot to get the pictures of these bottles of Baijiu, like I did for the beer yesterday, but i promise to get some pictures for tomorrow's post.  Take care.

Adventures in Chinese Cuisine - Day 3 (by Joe Kruzich)

Now all that delicious food that I wrote about yesterday and on Monday has to be accompanied by a good drink or two, and today I will write a bit about Chinese beer as a great complement to the spicy food of Sichuan - tomorrow will be reserved for that all important drink that makes the eyes of every Chinese light up, Bai Jiu.

The first point about Chinese beer is that it really has ancient roots in China. There are records of the first beer-like drink being brewed in China in 7000 BC. It had its modern re-introduction via Europe in the late 19th century with the first modern brewery being opened in the Far North town of Harbin (a city with a population of about 7 to 8 million), by a Russian merchant to support the Russian workers working on the Trans-Manchurian Railway, connecting St. Petersburg and Moscow to Beijing and Vladivostok. The beer from Harbin is called HAPI, or Harbin Pijiu, and is a pilsner-like beer with a smooth taste, and just the type of drink to wash down a good, spicy Kung Pao chicken. I prefer the 1900 classic brand, which tries to recreate the initial beer the Russians brought to China in 1900. The Harbin Brewery is the fourth largest in China and is a fully-owned subsidiary of Anheuser-Busch, after a bitter take over bid battle with SAB Miller several years ago. Welcome to globalization! This beer is one of my favorites in China and has a reputation for a nice, smooth taste, and good variety of brands. There is nothing like drinking a big glass of this beer in a Harbin beer garden in the summer, but don't try it in the winter or you may end up frozen to your seat (temperatures in the winter there regularly dip to minus 30 celsius).
Of course, being from Shenyang and counting as my favorite restaurant the great Sichuan restaurant of Chun Xia Qiu Dong in Shenyang, I also have to make a pitch for the local Shenyang beer, Snow Beer. You will notice as you travel throughout China, there are few national beer brands, as locals are intensely loyal to their local brew and it is hard for outsiders to penetrate local distribution networks, though that is quickly changing. Snow Beer is also a Pilsner-like beer, and a bit more heavy-tasting than HAPI's 1900, which almost tastes like a light beer. This is just the type of beer to down some piping hot ribs or braised/grilled eggplant, the ones I discussed yesterday. Snow Beer is quickly becoming a national and international brand, as in my many travels around China over the past 4 years (42 cities), I keep seeing more and more of this ubiquitous beer, almost as much as the well-known China brand of Qingdao. I am told that Snow may well become the world's second largest brand soon, as this year it is projected to sell over 4 billion litres. Those foreign brewers certainly know a good deal and market when they see it, as the London-based beer company SAB-Miller, now owns Snow Beer, so little old Shenyang has now joined the big time of international beer battles.
Now, I have to confess I am not a real fan of big international brands when it comes to beer, so my third beer for tonight is a slightly obscure beer out of the port town of Yantai in Shandong province, the home of the mighty Qingdao brewery. Back in the states, my favorite beers are always local breweries, and my absolute favorite town for beer is Portland, Oregon and the Widmer Brothers great brews, especially their magical HefeWeizen. Well, Yantai produces this very nice dark beer (Hei Pijiu), which is somewhat of a rarity in China - although Qingdao also produces a very nice dark beer which I tasted a couple of years ago on a brewery tour, but I have yet to find this at any restaurants around China. Hei Sheng, the beer brand of Yantain brewery that I like, is not a heavy dark beer, and has a nice, robust, malty flavor that for me is the perfect complement for Sichuan food. This is not the kind of dark beer like Guiness, but more like a nice German dark beer and is a real versatile drink for both summer and winter weather, spicy and more hearty Northeast peasant cuisine. Alas, this small brewery has also not escaped the hands of foreign ownership, as the Japanese brewery of Asahi has a major ownership stake in Yantai.
That's it for tonight, but stay tuned for tomorrow and the discussion of the mother of all drinks - Bai Jiu and the chinese toasting ritual. Below is a picture of bottles of all the beers i discussed today.

The Martini and Modern Art

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In their different ways Igor Stravinsky and Louis Armstrong took the raucous clangor of the twentieth century and humanized it, making it abstract and musical. The martini takes the bitter coldness of modern life and transforms it into abstract art, turning it not only bearable but pleasurable.

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Max Rudin, "There is Something about a Martini" (American Heritage, July / August 1997)

Liz Taylor, John O'Hara, and the Shaken Cocktail

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"Tell Mrs. Liggett what you told me about shaking Martinis," said Nancy.

"Oh. yes," said Farley. "You know, like everyone else, I suppose, I've been going for years on the theory that a Martini ought to be stirred and not shaken?"

"Yes, that's what I've always heard," said Emily.

"Well, in London last year I talked with an English bartender who told me that theory's all wrong. American, he said."

"Scornfully," said Nancy.

"Very scornfully," said Paul.

"I can imagine very scornfully," said Emily.

-- John O'Hara, BUtterfield 8 (1935)

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Elizabeth Taylor won the "best actress" Oscar for her work in BUtterfield 8 (1960)

-- DL

More Martinis

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The first Martini I ever drank was strictly medicinal, for threatened seasickness, and in spite of a loyal enjoyment of them which may be increasing in direct ratio to my dwindling selectivity of palate, I must admit that I still find them a sure prop to my flagging spirits, my tired or queasy body, even my over-timid social self. I think I know how many to drink, and when, and where, as well as why; and if I have acted properly and heeded all my physical and mental reactions to them, I have been the winner in many an otherwise lost bout with everything from boredom to plain funk. A well-made Martini or Gibson, correctly chilled and nicely served, has been more often my true friend than any two-legged creature.

-- M. F. K. Fisher, "To the Gibson and Beyond" (The Atlantic, January 1949)

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Remember: the only difference between a Martini and a Gibson is that the former gets an olive or lemon twist, the latter a cocktail onion or two. To make a "dirty" Martini serve with an olive and add a little of the olive juice from the jar. Vodka Martinis are OK, but for the full effect I recommend mixing gin (Hendrick's or Plymouth or Tanqueray or Beefeater) with a tablespoon of dry vermouth (preferably French: Noilly Prat); shake with ice, and serve straight up in frozen Martini glasses. Keep the gin (or vodka) in the freezer.

-- DL