Against the Grain: The nearly lost art of mixing Manhattans

The Manhattan is an old person’s drink.

In fact, Manhattans are at least one generation too old for me, a woman who belongs to the Tequila Sunrise and Kamikaze drinkers of the 1970s and ’80s. But I have always been out of step in time – I still own two rotary phones, simply because I like that old metallic sound the dial makes when it spins. So I am not ashamed of sitting down at a bar and ordering a drink I first learned about from my grandmother.

But being attached to outdated pleasures has its problems, and I am reminded of this almost every time I order a Manhattan, a cocktail that originated in New York sometime in the late 1800s.

Some say it was first concocted to celebrate the borough of Manhattan. Another popular story about the Manhattan is that it was invented for Lady Randolph Churchill, Winston’s mother, at a cocktail party to honor a presidential candidate. The candidate is long forgotten, but the cocktail has lived on, surviving even Prohibition, though it may finally be on its way to disappearing for good.

There seem to be few bartenders still alive who are proficient in the art of making a Manhattan, or who even know what goes into one: whiskey, sweet vermouth and bitters.

Manhattans are often ordered as aperitifs, though they are a good nightcap, too, and are nice just for sipping during a night on the town.

Though any drink calling itself a Manhattan must include the basic three ingredients, there are many variations on mixture and serving.

In the first place, there is much debate among Manhattan aficionados about the type of whiskey required.

Originally, the Manhattan was supposed to be an American cocktail, an emblem of patriotism, since it was always made with bourbon, which itself is made primarily from that most American of foods, corn.

During Prohibition, however, bourbon was substituted with Canadian rye, as rye was easier to get. Today, if you are lucky to encounter a really experienced bartender, he or she will ask which you prefer – bourbon or rye. I prefer bourbon.

Another point of contention is the glass.

Variations include everything from a lowball glass to – horrors! – a wine glass. For me, a Manhattan served in any glass other than a martini glass is an affront to the drink. The glass should be chilled.

Some drinkers like their Manhattans on ice, but it really should be served straight up, with a maraschino cherry – sometimes two, if the bartender is feeling festive – for garnish.

Though the foundation of a Manhattan is bourbon, a manly spirit, the maraschino cherry and sweet vermouth makes it a frou-frou drink.

But I am not opposed to frivolity in cocktails, and so I have been in search of the perfect Manhattan in the greater Merced area for a few years.

So far, I have found only two places that consistently make a decent Manhattan.

I really like Manhattans, and I am genuinely disappointed when I order one and get instead a bizarre interpretation. This has happened on many occasions.

In one recent experience, I was served a dirty martini when I asked for a Manhattan. I asked the waitress if the bartender could try again, and I listed the necessary ingredients so that she might communicate them to the bartender. After a long consultation with the bartender, the waitress returned to tell me that they were out of bourbon and sweet vermouth, which led me to wonder why she didn’t mention that in the first place. I assume they were operating on the theory that, if they served the drink in a martini glass, I wouldn’t notice that they had substituted dry vermouth for sweet and gin for bourbon.

But I have found two bars in Merced that consistently serve a good Manhattan. One is the Branding Iron. I got it in a chilled martini glass, but the bartender forgot the maraschino cherry. Still, he used bourbon and I respect him for that.

One very pleasant surprise in my search happened last summer at the Hangar. I did not really expect to get a quaffable Manhattan there. I was gambling when I ordered it, so I was shocked when a perfect Manhattan was delivered to my table, in a chilled glass with two maraschino cherries.

The Hangar, which probably serves mostly beer and tequila, gave me hope that we might be on the brink of a Manhattan renaissance.

The martini has enjoyed a remarkable comeback in recent years, and the television show “Mad Men” has resuscitated the Old Fashioned.

The Manhattan could become popular again, and if it does, I know I will have done my part to make it happen.

This story was originally published January 22, 2016 at 2:33 PM with the headline "Against the Grain: The nearly lost art of mixing Manhattans."