Without question, the undisputed king of cocktails is the Martini. Clean, clear, and simple, the Martini has a life of its own. The story of its birth and its name, however, are probably the most convoluted of all drink origins.

Over a decade ago, we tried to pin down not only the Martini's creator but the truth of the drink's name. What we ended up with, at first, was a laundry list of contenders as well as competing tales of the provenance of its name.

One assertion is that the Silver Bullet was born in 1884 at the Turf Club in New York. The signature drink at this esteemed gentlemen's club has much in common with a Martinez: orange bitters, maraschino, absinthe,French vermouth, and Plymouth Gin.

The Martinez, the Martini's predecessor, is said by some to have been invented by Julio Richelieu in the 1870s, inspired by a prospector making his way from the Sierra Nevada gold deposits to San Francisco via the town of Martinez. While the good citizens of Martinez erected a plaque commemorating the Martini's birth on the northeast corner of Alhambra Avenue and Masonic Street, there is no corroborative evidence to support this claim. Jerry "The Professor" Thomas, the P.T. Barnum of mixology, proclaimed the Martinez was his invention, created when he was working in San Francisco. But wasn't the Martinez nothing more than a fancy name for a Gin Cocktail?

We were not convinced that the Martinez was the Martini's parent. It was more likely a sibling. The bitters, maraschino, French Vermouth, gomme syrup, and Old Tom Gin, a style of spirit distilled with macerated sweet spices are very close to the Gin Cocktail documented by William Terrington in his 1869 Cooling Cups and Dainty Drinks, which used ginger syrup instead of gomme syrup. We think the Gin Cocktail was the Martini's mother. How could we say that?

Harry Johnson's 1882 Martini Cocktail (mislabeled Martine Cocktail on the accompanying illustration) follows the basic Gin Cocktail equation. So does his Marguerite Cocktail, which substitutes anisette for curacao.In this same book, however, the Martini also experiences a transformation.

Called the Bradford a la Martini, the drink called for Old Tom Gin, a few dashes of orange bitters, and vermouth. Not a speck of liqueur is to be found. Instead, the recipe calls for the peel of one lemon to be placedi n the mixing glass. Similarly, in George J Kappeler's 1895 Modern American Drinks, the Martini calls for orange bitters, lemon peel, and equal parts Old Tom Gin and Italian vermouth.

By the late 1800s, imbibers and mixologists alike seemed to find the Martini's real bones. Dashes of additional sweetness were unnecessary to achieve balance. Gin, vermouth, and citrus notes from the orange bitters and lemon peel seem to ring out with a clear voice. Orders became common for a Martini made with Italian vermouth, a Dry Martini made with French vermouth. Martini. Not Martinez.

But why call it a Martini or a Bradford a la Martini? Dwell on some historical facts. Although Noilly Fils & Cie exported French vermouth to New York as early as 1844, before the company changed its name to Noilly-Prat, no one thought to call the blending of gin and Noilly vermouth. However, the exportation of Martini vermouth by the Martini, Sola & Cia to New York beginning in 1867 seems to coincide with the emergence of the Martini. The company went nose-to-nose withNoilly-Prat to gain the American market, in 1900, when it introduced its Extra Dry Vermouth. It is very likely the Martini cocktail took its name from the brand of vermouth. This is not as romantic a story as the cocktail being born in Martinez (or created by Jerry Thomas, or being named after the Martini rifle, or created by Martini di Arma di Taggia at the Knickerbocker Hotel in New York, or at the Savoy hotel in London to name a few of the contenders). However, it seems the most plausible of the potential origins of the Martini cocktail's name.

Demand for Dry Martinis soared as the world entered the Great War, while the Martini became known as a Gin and It or Gin and French in Great Britain. Who knows if it was a depressed economy, unavailability of ingredients, or bartenders streamlining their formulas that dropped the orange bitters from many cocktail recipe books between the wars. But the saddest evolution in the Martini's life was when the vermouth,French or Italian, began to dry up.

Post-war mixologists (both the first and second world wars) did not have the luxury of a proper bar education like their predecessors. Bartending knowledge was always transferred from master to apprentice. Many masters were lost in the wars, and their knowledge died with them. The wisdom of using fresh vermouth seemed to disappear at about this time.Vermouth is an aromatized wine, and consequently, subject to the same pitfalls as wine if left open in a warm room for days, weeks, and months. Vermouth sours to a scary point. Why ruin the perfect Silver Bullet with more than a whisper of sour vermouth? The ratio of gin to vermouth went from 3:1, to 6:1, to 12:1, in favour of gin. Want some spiciness? Add olives!

Due to diminished distillation standards and the scarcity of raw ingredients, gin also lost position to vodka between and immediately following the wars. Who wanted to savour the spicy, complex nature of a below-bottom-shelf gin? Allegedly tasteless, odorless, colourless vodka and even more olives were reasonable augmentations in an up-and-coming corporate world.

Lucky for the Martini, these faux pas were remedied during the current Great Cocktail Revival. Once again, sweet and/or dry vermouth meet fine-quality gin in a marriage made in heaven. The reintroduction of fine arts such as bitters-making have returned orange bitters to the drink as well. The result? A classic Martini with prominence and provenance, even though its name may have well been entirely marketing-driven. Here's the recipe:

MARTINI COCKTAIL

3 parts Beefeater 24 gin

1 part French vermouth or Lillet Blanc

2 dashes orange bitters

Shake all ingredients over ice. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish  with a large slice of lemon peel. Olives? Serve them on the side, but preferably not in the cocktail.

[This article was originally published in German in 2009 in Mixology Magazine.]