Shit day? Martinis, bars and companionable solitude
When drinking at home won’t do
🍸 This time, some personal shit leads to reflection on solo martinis in bars and, as a last resort, at home. (CW: Alzheimer’s.)
🌤️ The weather’s looking up! That means spritzes. Here are some options beyond Aperol.
🥃 The one I’ll never tire of: All hail the Gin & It.
Managing time is hard when you’re looking after both your kids and your ageing parents. Or parent, singular, in my case. Dad died just over three years ago. His sudden death left Mum on her own in a house that was near the coast they’d both loved but far away from my brother and me.
With Dad gone it became clear how much she’d grown to rely on him over lockdown. She was suddenly vague, lost, and forgetful. Alzheimer’s, we soon discovered. We’ve since moved her to a home that’s closer to us both, but it still takes me 90 minutes to drive down there.
When I went last week I thought I’d timed my visit well: leave once the morning rush dies down, get there not so early that she’s still in bed, not so late that she’s going in for lunch, then be back home in time for the afternoon’s school run. And indeed, traffic was light all the way through South London and down the motorway. Mum was awake and dressed when I arrived. We had a good spell of time left before lunch.
But in another way I was too late. Mum didn’t know me. In fact she barely even registered I was there. What can you do? She likes flowers so I talked to her about the crocuses coming through in the park where I take my morning walk. I told her how the kids are doing in school. That got a flicker of recognition, but it was soon gone and her with it. What can you do? I sat with her a while longer as she stared at the table, or at whatever goes on in her mind these days. She looked sad, then morose and sullen, then she was asleep. What can you do? There didn’t seem much point in staying. I’d managed maybe twenty minutes with her. Not much time at all.
I left feeling angry at the shitty and unfair end this cruel disease was doling out for Mum, and at the way it had robbed us of each other’s company. As I drove home my anger and sadness curdled into dread — and thirst. I was haunted by an image of a dry martini in a frosted coupe glass being placed on a bar before me. This was partly the memory of one I’d drunk the week before and partly a mirage, an oasis in the desert, my guiding star. In my vision it shone with silvery light. God how I wanted that drink.
I fantasised about it all the way back up the M23. I wanted a viciously cold slug of gin and vermouth with which to ease my tension and diffuse my bad mood. A martini at home wasn’t going to cut it. I wanted someone else to make my drink. I wanted to sit on my own without being alone. I wanted to be at one with my thoughts but not abandoned to them. It had to be at a bar.
Bars (and pubs) allow a particular kind of companionable solitude I’m not sure you can find anywhere else. Cafés perhaps, and coffee shops — except caffeine is hardly the drug I’d prescribe for a day like this. And sure, you can have fun watching a film alone, but cinemas are built for escaping your thoughts rather than sitting with them and letting them percolate. No, for my soothing and contemplative fix it had to be booze. It had to be a bar.
Here’s the cruel kicker, dear reader. I did not get my cocktail. Once again my timing was off. It was still only one o’clock in the afternoon when I got home, which (unless you’re having a Big Fancy Lunch) is on the early side for martinis, even for a drinks writer.
Later my brother texted to say afternoons are better for visiting Mum these days. I’m not sure how I feel about that. It will be harder for me to fit around the kids, but perhaps it will also better for getting a drink afterwards. After all, I need to manage my time to grab some pleasure while I can.
Here are a few good spots in London for an emergency solo martini. Your ideal seat is at the bar itself, but failing that aim for a table where you can watch the world go by.
What to do if you need a drink and can’t get to a bar? The best thing is to have your martini already mixed up and waiting for you in the freezer, ideally alongside a suitable cocktail glass. All you need to do is plop in an olive and pour. How’s that for managing your time?
I saw this freezer martini recipe in the Guardian recently and can report that it is rather tasty and beguiling. The hint of fino and tiny pinch of salt add interest without overpowering.
Jeremy Blackmore’s freezer martini recipe
(Makes 700 ml, which is somewhere between 7 and 10 serves depending on what kind of day you’ve had)
460 ml good gin
70 ml dry vermouth
30 ml fino sherry
Pinch (1 g) of salt
1 tsp (4 g) white sugar
140 ml water
Stir everything together until the sugar and salt dissolve. Put in a clean glass bottle and chuck in the freezer. It will be ready after six hours. Keeps for ages. Delicious anytime.
For the gin you probably want a London Dry, that tends to work best in martinis, but don’t sweat it too much. This will still be tasty if you use other gins. Case in point: I used Cotswolds Old Tom gin, as well as Noilly Prat vermouth and Tio Pepe sherry.