The Marina Del Rey Cheesecake Factory is entirely to blame for my current addiction. It was there on a dark and stormy night* last December where I first experienced the exquisite martini made dirty by blue cheese stuffed olives.
Never had I expected to consider any other martini but the classic: Gin or vodka and vermouth, several pristine olives, preferably green queens, marinating in the crystal liquid.
Dirty martinis were an aberration, muddying what nature intended as sparkling and pure. The riff raft who ordered them were the very same vulgarians who call anything added to vodka in a stem glass a martini – lemon drop “martinis”, espresso “martinis”, for the tea lovers Earl Grey “martinis.”
Maybe it was the 2-hour wait to deboard at LAX, navigating the chaotic terminal, something changed. My normally rigid requirements loosened.
Soon enough, there it was. Through the murky interior, 3 large green olives nestled inside the frosted glass. And I knew I had been waiting all my life for this deliciously sublime experience.
* Edward Bulwer-Lytton, Paul Clifford