You can tell alot about someone by how they order a drink. Their taste in spirits can tell you their past, or what they expect of the night to come. A keen eye can tell if the drinker knows what to expect from the bartender, or if they’re just showing off. And a cocktail in a casino can be a fatal tell.
In Ian Fleming’s first 007 novel, Casino Royale, the golden rule of character development is in full effect: Show, don’t tell. With scant descriptions or backstory, we are introduced to Agent James Bond through his interactions in the casino; both by what he does and what he could do. It is on page 44 in the Thomas & Mercer 2012 paperback edition that we learn everything there is to know about Bond, and it isn’t murder or romance that reveals the man, but his drink:
Now known as the Vesper Martini, it began nameless. Bond spells it out as a clarification to a more iconic order, “A dry martini”. But this is no Martini, and in every way that this cocktail is wrong are his give-aways, his tells. Let’s break it down:
The casino is set in northern France where fine wine and grape spirits can be appreciated in all their forms. The story takes place in the early 1950s, long after Prohibition in America and a significant shift in the Martini recipe there (which carried over to the UK). However, in France, the Martini would have nearly a century old, consisting of equal parts or more of gin and sweet vermouth, as well as orange bitters (a requisite with gin cocktails). To order a dry Martini would simply be a request for dry vermouth, not more gin. Vermouth (a fortified wine) in the original Martini is an equal player stirred with gin as its “M. en ce moment”. A golden rule for cocktails: If all ingredients are translucent, stirr; if opaque ingredients are use (such as citrus juice), shake.
‘A dry martini,’ he said. ‘One. In a deep champagne goblet.’
‘Oui, monsieur.’
‘Just a moment. Three measures of Gordon’s, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake until it’s ice-cold, then add a large thin slice of lemon-peel. Got it?’
This drink order is bookended by Bond insisting on how CIA agent Felix Leiter take his Haig-and-Haig and Bond critiquing the bartender’s choice of vodka. At the bar, as in life, Bond’s swagger dominates the scene. But he’s not just showing off here. He doesn’t order a standard drink then change his mind to show off to Leiter – the bartender interrupts him. Bond likely knows what a “dry martini” in the north of France means, but presumptively orders something that is not a Martini under the same name. He lives by his own rules, and breaks any in his way.
“Shaken. Not stirred.” is only ever said in the movies, but it breaks one of the golden rules of cocktails. Shaking doesn’t necessarily make a drink colder, only aerates and bruises the liquor (as Fleming acknowledges), clouding the crystal clarity of a gin drink. Beauty is only superficial to Bond; it’s the power of the drink he’s after. Not ambitiously – the drink doesn’t lean on status, being made with a gin as common as Gordon’s – but in it’s alcoholic strength.
Many gins have lowered their ABV over the decades. Less alcohol + more dilution = lower production costs. Today Gordon’s is a market standard 40% ABV. But competitors like Tanqueray are still at a roaring 47.5%. Bond lives as though he’s bullet-proof, and creates a drink in that image. If you intend to make it as a purest, may we suggest adding a smidge of Everclear to your Gordon’s to bring it up to snuff.
The drink is also unusually excessive. Bond, who never settles for less whether in violence or sex, couldn’t be expected to order a typical 3oz drink. Here, a measure can be relative, but to fill a champagne goblet each one would have to be a whole shot (1oz), making it 4.5oz before dilution.
The Lillet serves as a kind of bitters and sweetener in one. The Kina Lillet is no longer produced. It was distinguished by its quinine content, missing from modern Lillet Blanc. Quinine sulfate can be bought at drug stores, but I don’t recommend adding it to your home bar. The Lillet available today makes just as good a cocktail.
Wait… Quinine, gin, and citrus… Sounds alot like the flavor profile of a Gin & Tonic. Not unusual for a navy man.
The last sentence of Chapter 1, we feel, best sums up a successful Vesper Martini: “…the warmth and humour of his eyes extinguished, his features relapsed into a taciturn mask, ironical, brutal, and cold.”
So what’s your favorite Bond book?
What’s your favorite spy-age cocktail?
For more cocktail tips, check out these videos from my cocktail guru, Robert Hess:
Vesper Cocktail – Robert Hess
Martini History – Robert Hess
Shaking or Stirring – Robert Hess