And in a drink that depends on its garnish as heavily as the Gibson, you might as well go all out. This is a cocktail garnish on another level.

And second of all, they look absolutely awesome. First of all, these are good – tart and briny and garlicky and just the tiniest bit sweet. It was completely worth the extra trouble. But if I was going to make my own cocktail onions, I figured I might as well have a little fun with it, so I made these beet-pickled pearl onions. Well, that last bit isn’t exactly part of the classic Gibson recipe. They should be briny and crunchy and – preferably – hot pink. To make a Gibson really good, you’ve got to use good onions. The quality of a Gibson hinges on the quality of its garnish, and at most bars this is going to come from an old jar of soggy cocktail onions that they’ve kept around on the off chance that anyone orders this obscure drink. But in my opinion, no one who fits this description would ever order a Gibson at the average bar. Enjoy.Some writers play up the Gibson as the sort of drink you have to be in-the-know to order, a signal to your bartender that you are a discerning imbiber of finely-crafted cocktails. Stir well, add one large ice cube (or a small handful of ice), stir a little more, then garnish with as many fucking vermouth-soaked cocktail onions as you can fit on a pick. 50/50 Gibson MartiniĪdd the gin, vermouth, and bitters to an old-fashioned glass. But whatever, I’m a woman who knows what I want. Hell, I know I’ve even annoyed bartenders at Beau’s bar with my order. What I said was, ‘Give me all the cocktail onions you have.’ Half the time, bars don’t even have them and then I’m forced to yell a stream of obscenities while overturning tables (joking that’s when I order a whiskey soda). I’m worried what you just heard was give me a lot of cocktail onions. Just give me all the cocktail onions you have. If you didn’t already know, vermouth-soaked cocktail onions are God’s greatest gift to drinks and I am to cocktail onions what Ron Swanson is to protein. In fact, I probably (no, I know) I annoy bartenders when I’m like, “I’ll have a Gibson, but on the rocks, half gin, half vermouth, lots of orange bitters, and all the cocktail onions.” My friend Beau Williams of Julep Cocktail Club introduced me to this method for making a gin martini, and I haven’t looked back since. While I call this “my” all-time favorite martini recipe, it’s not really my recipe. To really throw you off, it calls for equal parts gin and vermouth, and I usually end up eating about nine to 13 onions per drink consumed. And because I give zero fucks about rules, it also gets a few aggressive dashes of orange bitters. I do love coupes, but stemmed martini glasses are the Devil’s spawn and I really like drinks that go “clink!” So, I take this Gibson martini on the rocks - rather, one big rock. It’s also usually served in a coupe or cocktail glass.

In fact, the only thing that really differentiates a Gibson from the original is that it’s garnished with a cocktail onion instead of a lemon twist. Traditionally, a Gibson is made with gin and dry vermouth, and is stirred, not shaken. But when I want a damn good drink that’s not whiskey, I always turn to a Gibson martini on the rocks. While I may still “play,” I was excited to finally bust it out this week for my all-time favorite martini. It’s something I used to make with regularity, but everything in the fall and winter was so fucking festive, I haven’t had much of an opportunity to make a damn good drink just for the sake of making a damn good drink. Sometime last fall, Tom’s Town, a new-ish Kansas City distillery with an old soul, gave me a bottle of their McElroy’s Corruption Gin to play around with. I’m one of those assholes who responds to an email seven months later with, “SO sorry for the late reply!” And this post is my blog version of that email.

Gibson drink receita