Gimme Gimme Gimlet

This is a love story. First of all, I have to confess: I’m not a cocktail or highball aficionado. There, I said it. More of a social drinker, my tastes have generally run to simpler things, like gin and tonic or dark beer. Okay, so right about now you’re probably wondering if this love story takes place in Las Vegas and involves a 12-step program. Just stay with me.

About 6 years ago I was out for dinner with a friend in a, shall we say, higher profile restaurant. One of the drinks featured on the bar menu was a gimlet: a drink, the menu said, made with gin and lime bar mix. Feeling a little crazy that evening I ordered it and a few minutes later was served a martini glass filled with 3 ounces of heaven.

I was initially taken with its looks. A lovely shade of light green, it was visually appealing. Looking closely at the glass I could see the tiniest bit of condensation, letting me know that its contents had been chilled. Ah, just my type.

I licked my lips and gave it a cool stare. Then, feeling self conscious, I blushed. I fiddled with my serviette as a mild panic set in. What if I didn’t like it? What if it didn’t agree with me? Panic gave way to embarrassment. What rock had I been living under? How had I never heard of this drink before? My sudden shame of being such a late bloomer and lacking all experience with this libation gave me second thoughts. I considered sending the gimlet back and forgetting the whole thing. I wanted to retreat to the safety of my comfort zone with gin and tonics and dark beer. But in a moment of clarity I looked up at the glass and saw a drop of condensation start to inch slowly down the outer rim. I knew at that instant what I had to do.

I gently grasped the glass with my right hand and brought it to my lips. A small sip passed over my gums and a crescendo of flavour went straight to my heart. It was perfect: not too tart, not too sweet, with a hint of lime. I was giddy. I was in love.

I try to recreate that first experience almost every time I go out for dinner or drinks, but in the process I have learned that this classic drink can be unbelievably difficult to get. It also seems that the quality of a gimlet is most often proportional to the profile of the establishment serving it. In other words, if you order a gimlet at Joe Fortes: heaven in a glass. However, if you ask the 18-year-old waitress at Cactus Club for a gimlet, she’ll ask, “What’s a jimblet?” and then serve you something appropriate for stripping your great-grandmother’s writing desk.

That’s why it’s good measure to learn how to make a gimlet for yourself, so whether you’re at home or at a friend’s place, you can always be sure to have good love in a martini glass. Herewith, a recipe for an excellent gimlet: 2 ounces of gin, 1 ounce of Rose’s lime bar mix, juice of half a lime. This is the ratio I’m rather fond of, but a bartender bible might preach that you use 3 parts gin, 1 part lime bar mix, or even half and half. Just set up a small gimlet test lab in your kitchen and find out for yourself what appeals to you. Like any good relationship, it takes work, but I daresay you won’t be disappointed.

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