Topaz Hotel
1733 N St. NW

Splash of gin
Organic black tea
Honey
Vodka!

Brian’s take: Maybe this is just me, but I have always considered tea and alcohol to occupy very separate spheres in my liquid life. I generally reserve tea for porches, breakfast nooks, camp stoves and coffee shops, and while alcohol certainly has its place in all these venues, mixing the two potables seems to yield a result that is a bit less than the sum of its parts. Such was my impression of Topaz’s Unique Bronze Piece–it was a rather delicious tea drink, but in the end, I want my liquor to taste like liquor, if only a little bit. To be fair, that is often the problem with these artfully made martinis–the liquor takes a backseat–and I would rather have tea at the forefront of the flavor rather than some abominable gooey syrup. But in the end, I’ll take my tea at tea time, my booze at boozing time, and my kick in the old derriere at closing time.

On a scale of 1 to 5 olive branches: 2.5

Ted’s take: A lovely little drink, in which neither the honey nor the tea overstays its welcome. The only complication I foresee is that it tastes so much like a breakfast drink…and the booze itself is so silkily masked…that this could spell trouble in the early hours of the a.m. A word to the wise: should you have the unique pleasure of sipping this unique drink, you will find yourself lulled into a Zen-like complacency, in which your inner life finds no objective correlative in the outside world. Bear in mind the following koan, and let your spirit be your guide:

A lord asked Takuan, a Zen Teacher, to suggest how he might pass the time. He felt his days very long attending his office and sitting stiffly to receive the homage of others.

Takuan wrote eight Chinese characters and gave them to the man:

“Not twice this day
Inch time foot gem.
This day will not come again.
Each minute is worth a priceless gem.”

On a scale of 1 to 5 olive branches: 4

M Bar Lounge
1143 New Hampshire Avenue. NW
An ounce and a half of Grey Goose vodka,
An ounce and a half of Malibu rum
Pineapple juice
Drizzle of grenadine
…and garnished with a cherry

Brian’s take: The Mao Tao artini at M Street Bar is delicious. The people like the Mao Tao, because it is the people’s artini. It is red and golden and good. Go to M Street Bar. Join the Party.

On a scale of 1 to 5 olive branches: 2

Trotsky’s take: “Life is not an easy matter…. You cannot live through it without falling into frustration and cynicism unless you have before you a great idea which raises you above personal misery, above weakness, above all kinds of perfidy and baseness.

“The historic ascent of humanity, taken as a whole, may be summarized as a succession of victories of consciousness over blind forces – in nature, in society, in man himself.

Where force is necessary, there it must be applied boldly, decisively and completely. But one must know the limitations of force; one must know when to blend force with a maneuver, a blow with an agreement.”

– Leon Trotsky

On a scale of 1 to 5 cultural revolutions: 3

Westend Bistro
1190 22nd Street NW

A reduced gastrique syrup featuring caramelized sugar
Fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice
Dash of vinegar
Coriander
Ginger
Christiana vodka
…and a bit of pepper on top

Brian’s take: Do you remember what it was like to be a kid trying to sleep on the night before a big vacation? The welling anticipation? The jetsetting jitters? The intoxicating insomnia? If you can’t remember, go to the WestEnd Bistro and try the “Sargent Pepper’s Tango” (and no, that is not a spelling error–it’s what literary folks call a “double entendre,” a playful riff on the John Singer Sargent pieces at the Corcoran). This artini presents a vivid contrast: the luxury of fresh grapefruit juice and the excitement of spicy pepper, kind of like a relaxing vacation on the beach with a few roller coasters nearby. All right, all right, you’ve probably noticed that I’m running out of interesting ways to describe and review artinis (hence the whole vacation theme). Listen to me: “Sargent Pepper’s Tango” is good. Good good good good good. Go try it. Meanwhile, I’m going to fall asleep while reading Roget’s thesaurus.

On a scale of 1 to 5 olive branches: 5

Ted’s take: Though I struggle to find a causal link between the patriotic portraiture of Jonathan Singer Sargent and the exotic fruit bouquet of Sargent Pepper’s Tango, I must admit that both leave me with an indeterminate warm, fuzzy feeling in my belly and a desire to do right by my country. The SPT (as those in the know acronymically dub it) triangulates itself rather elegantly between the sweet, the spicy, and the tart–the healthy dose of tangy citrus cuts the wicked infusion of sweet fruits Jeremy has alchemized so expertly. The drink’s coup de grâce, however, is the black pepper garnish, which holds sway over the subordinate flavors like an admiral over his fleet…

…which is not to say that such discerning connisseurs of artisanal martinis as we don’t have our quibbles. For my part, I would have appreciated a bit more stiffness in the alcohol quotient… as for the rest, I didn’t hear a note of psychedelic Beatles during my entire sojourn at the Westend Bistro. And, while we’re at it, ‘Westend’ seems an unfortunate amalgamation; though there seems to be a widespread perception that typographical liberties spell trendiness, and one musn’t expect Eric Ripert to buck the trend.

On a scale of 1 to 5 olive branches: 4.25

Napoleon Bistro
1847 Columbia Road NW

Grey goose vodka
Blue curacao
White cranberry juice
Topped with Champagne…
…and garnished with a kiwi

Brian’s take: I have to say that the Bonapartini at Napoleon, while it may have the best name of any artini we’ve tried, was on the whole a rather bland affair. To be honest, it’s difficult to remember exactly how it tasted. Was it tart? Was it savory? Was it bitter? Was it sweet? Was it bad? No, no, no, etc.–it was none of these things. The only aspects of this artini that weren’t forgettable were its color–a mouthwash-inspired aquamarine–and the one tasty moment that transpired when I took a swig of the concoction while the accompanying kiwi slice was in my mouth. Indeed, this artini’s name certainly belies its flavor. I expected something more out of the Bonapartini. I longed for obsession, despotism, dense flavor–a small drink that packed a mighty punch. Yes, that’s right: I wanted nothing more than for this artini to give me a black eye! But alas, I exiled myself from Napoleon Bistro bitter, bored, and bruise-free.

On a scale of 1 to 5 olive branches: 2

Ted’s take: Dennis Rodman once cannily observed that “the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” Napoleon, we must here affirm, was never quiet but frequently desperate–which brings us to the Bonapartini.

Not the cute name. “Yes,” you murmur, “but is it art?” Note the inclusion of cranberry juice. “Yes,” you muse, “but is it tart?”

The answer, to both questions, is a resounding no–though this does not bode as ill for the beverage as one might expect. The champagne adds a reasonable bit of panache to the whole affair, and the kiwi, properly squeezed, contains more flavor than the other ingredients combined. I have never before found myself wishing that the bartender had “included more blue curacao,” as I generally find it an insipid mixer, but on this occasion it would at least have kept things tastier. Really, one doesn’t ask much out of these so-called “artini” things–but when the drink offers as little to the buds & brain as the Bonapartini, one can’t help but feel duped…

…much like the huddled masses of France!

On a scale of 1 to 5 olive branches: 2.25

Teatro Goldoni
1909 K St NW # 10

Stoli vanil
Shot and a half of Lavazza espresso
Equal parts white chocolate and dark chocolate Godiva liqueur
Dash of Kahlua
…and three espresso beans, “for good luck.”

Brian’s take: If there are two things at which Italians excel–other than wine and gelato and pasta and opera and film and fashion and Vespas and olives–they are art and coffee. So Omar, the head bartender at Teatro Goldoni, was wise to devise the former out of the latter: an artini he calls, with the characteristic flourish of a prestidigitator, “The Goldini.” This caffeinated wonder simultaneously picks you up as it knocks you down, making it the perfect drink for after work or after dinner. As soon as it hit my tongue, this velvety delight conjured a sensory cornucopia of things quintessentially Italian: long walks on the Seine, make-out sessions underneath the Eiffel Tower, yacht parties in Nice, topless first ladies, Reigns of Terror. When, in his Goldini-induced euphoria, Ted commandeered the piano and began belting out my favorite tunes originally written for accordion, I felt a pang of nostalgia for those lost European evenings of old. A coffee martini may not be the most original idea, but Omar has taken a good concept and rendered it his own with simplicity, elegance, and style. Was Leonardo the first to paint the last supper? Was Caravaggio the first to depict Bacchus? Was Bernini the first to sculpt Apollo and Daphne? Was Mussolini the first to hang from his feet in a public square? Surely not–but they were masters, the ones whom history remembers, the ones who looked at the tasks that lay before them and set out to execute them with definitive flair.

On a scale of 1 to 5 olives: 5

Ted’s take: If we’ve learned anything from our artini-fueled wanderings over the past weeks, it is that each artini depends heavily on the bartender who gives it life. Based on the twin criteria of style and result, two bartenders have distinguished themselves from the pack: Rico at Poste Brasserie, and Omar at the Teatro Goldoni. On the latter’s feature night, we sampled the Goldini, not only the classiest dessert martini this side of the Atlantic but also a drink of immaculate balance and pristine presentation. Omar worked behind the bar with deftness and panache, serving up a cocktail sure to please both the moody masses and the effete elite. It is to Omar’s credit that such a classy drink does not prove, as Hamlet once quoth, “caviar to the general.”

On a scale of 1 to 5 olives: 4.5

Indebleu
707 G St. NW

Christiana vodka
Apricot nectar
Orange blossom water
Chinese five-spice
Chambord for color
A splash of soda
…and, as a nod to Demuth, a bit of gold leaf!

Brian’s take: While walking the dark streets of DC in the chilly hours of early morn–cane in hand, top hat on head, corn-cob pipe in mouth–I often find myself pondering the big questions, like, “What is art, and why does it matter?” The other night, the folks at Indebleu gave me a tasty answer: “The Figure 5 in Martini.” This artini endeavors to make drinkable a Charles Demuth painting of the number 5, and like any important piece of art, it is a divisive beast indeed. Some people at Inde Bleu–myself included–really enjoyed this novel drink. Others thought it tasted like shampoo. I maintain that the “Figure 5 in Martini” was an inspired little fella, tapping into sundry muses and sundry ingredients as diverse as orange blossom water and gold leaf. I felt transported to a Japanese garden-meets-Italian cathedral, with maybe just a dash of Herbal Essences thrown in for good measure.

On a scale of 1 to 5 olive branches: 4.273

Oh, and a note on Indebleu’s food. What a delight. Gina and Paul were generous enough to give us a sampling. I ordered the caper-crusted diver scallops, an incredible dish featuring spiced cauliflower, citronelle curry, and a black pepper/raisin purée. The scallops were of the melt-in-mouth variety, and when garnished with equal parts curry and purée made for a taste experience of transcontinental proportions. There is a phrase that I reserve for only the highest of culinary experiences, a phrase I have used once in reference to the Gotham’s foie gras and once in describing the prosciutto al melone at the Hostaria di Bruno a block from the Stazione Termini in Rome. The phrase is num-numz, and though it may sound inconceivable (not to mention juvenile and bizarre), I can proudly say with regard to the diver scallops, “Num! Numz!!!”

On a scale of 1 to 5 popadoms: 4.75

Ted’s take: The ‘Figure Five in “Martini,”‘ based on Charles Demuth’s famous Figure Five in Gold (based on William Carlos Williams’ ‘The Great Figure Five’), is a drink of strong derivation, venerable artistic roots, and a fine finish. The flavors are full-bodied and multi-dimensional, like the collage-aesthetic of the Demuth painting and the reductio ad simplicissimum vibrancy of the original poem. The Chinese five-spice, one must admit, packs something of a punch, and the beverage is far spicier than sweet, but–in the opinion of this critic–these things are all for the best. Kudos to Paul et. al. at Indebleu for one of the most artful martinis so far.

On a scale of 1-5 olive branches: 4.5

This review, however, would be far from complete without a few glowing words about Indebleu’s rather remarkable menu. While dining in unparalleled comfort, Indeblue restaurantgoers can treat themselves to the most successful fusion I’ve experienced in the Capital. While I wasn’t able to try the tandoori pizza (with a special naan crust), I was privileged to hobnob at length with an amazing plate of ahi tuna tartar, garnished with Indebleu’s noteworthy sweet pepper mousse and jalapeño raita. A selection of paper-thin papadoms brought some much-needed crunch to the cushioned suppleness of the exquisite tuna–and I was more than happy to follow Paul’s advice by mixing the mousse and the raita into a Christmas-y confection that defied description. Above all, the plate–like the artini–was a feat of balance…as any good fusion really ought to be.

On a scale of 1 to 5 papadoms: 5

Artistic invocations: Kandinsky, Rubens

Be sure to visit Chancy’s blog, ‘A Not So Capital Idea.’ Not only is she covering the artini madness with a tenacity to rival ours, but she has included an almost inconceivable number of photographs on her site featuring the boys from the City Paper!

Poste Moderne Brasserie
555 8th St. NW

Celery & dill-infused vodka
Bloody Mary caviar pearls
Horseradish caviar pearls
…and finished with an Old Bay-encrusted celery stick

Brian’s take: Mary’s Pearls is one classy drink. Just holding it in my hand I felt like a veritable member of the “Upper Crust,” and upon tasting it I was instantly transformed into the Queen of Sheba. This artini was devised by the virtuosic Rico, who is undoubtedly one of the pearls of Poste Modern. It is hands-down the best drink I’ve tasted in the competition thus far. It is the only artini that dares to embellish its martini-roots rather than forsake them, opting for substantial, savory ingredients like horseradish and celery over sugary-sweet stuff like cherries, lychees, and unicorn dust. “Mary’s Pearls” may not be magic, but it sure is a damn fine martini.

On a scale of 1-5 olive branches: 5

Ted’s take: Finally, an artini not geared towards the underage crowd. This drink not only contains an adult portion of alcohol–it rightfully boasts the most sophisticated marriage of flavors and taste-sensations this reviewer has noted in any of the experimental artinis it has been his pleasure (or duty) to quaff. Spicy, refreshing, sharp but simple–it’s a drink at which your parents wouldn’t scoff. Much of the credit, naturally, goes to Rico, who is a veritable maestro behind the bar, and with whom the laudable concept of “Mary’s Pearls” originated. The baron of bartenders, the Mayor of Martiniville, Rico is your man if you yearn for an artini that weds style with substance and won’t give you a sugar-high lasting more than four hours.

On a scale of 1-5 olive branches: 4.75

Artini neologism: “Complexicity.”

Bobby Van’s
809 15th St. NW

Chambord
Stoli Raz
Triple Sec
Lemonade
…and, of course, a cherry

Brian’s take: Some bargoers said they felt a bit naughty ordering this drink. The only time I felt a bit naughty was after a few sips, when my stomach simply couldn’t take any more. This artini was a syrupy mess. I felt like I was in the movie Super Troopers, competing for first place in a molasses-chugging competition. Considering I couldn’t even finish my Mary with a Cherry, I’m assuming I would’ve lost terribly.

On a scale of 1-5 olive branches: 1

Ted’s take: I have it on good authority that a strong dose of Robitussin will send the happy guzzler on a reeling vision-jaunt through technicolor stalactites and tesselated beatitudes. The “Mary with a Cherry,” while sporting the same color scheme and soupy, medicinal sweetness, offered none of these tripped-out side effects. Instead, I found myself struggling to down the damn thing, and, afterwards, to rid myself of the clinging and sickly taste. In a one-on-one scenario, I have no reservations about Chambord, Stoli Raz, triple sec, or lemonade; together, though, they make for a pretty foul combination.

On a scale of 1-5 olive branches: 0.75

Customer Takes:

“It’s very sweet. I’m told they have Stoli Raz in it, so you can definitely tell there’s raspberry in it. I like the mix with the cherry.

“It’s delicious. It’s quite strong, which is wonderful. It has a little cherry after-taste, and, you know, I feel a little bit naughty ordering it.”
Artistic Invocations:

Andy Warhol

Yves Klein

Roy Lichtenstein

Le Bar
806 Fifteenth Street NW

“D’ici”
2 mashed sage leaves
2 oz. Christiana vodka
¾ oz. lime juice
¾ oz. simple syrup
¼ oz. blood orange puree
¾ oz. egg whites (for their foaming properties)
Splash of white wine
Lemon juice for the rim of the glass
Sugar
Garnished with a sage leaf

Brian’s take: The “D’ici,” which is easily mispronounced (think the name of the city you’re in), is a delicious drink that takes itself a bit too seriously. Lots of liquor makes this tasty little number a veritable knockout, while the various and sundry juices hide any trace of alcohol. There are hints of mint and berry in the D’ici, haunted by a consistent overtone of, as we say in the French, “Jolly Rancher.” On the whole, the D’ici tastes more like juice box than a martini, but for lots of drinkers that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. (Plus, the olives at Le Bar are delightful.)

On a scale of 1-5 olive branches: 2

Ted’s take: The frothiness of this beverage is its saving grace. Too many drinks appeal to the sweet of tooth without offering much substance behind the sugar. A well-shaken pair of egg whites is enough to make nearly any drink noteworthy, though in this case the contrast between fruit-loopiness and near-peroxidontal ebullition constitutes something of a ‘find’ anywhere outside a dentist’s office. On the whole, it was a decent bet, though when a man takes 20 minutes to make you a drink you’ve got to wonder what sort of special ingredients are contained therein.

On a scale of 1-5 olive branches: 3