Bittersweet: The Espresso Martini 

A fter de-boarding my flight from London to D.C., I spent over an hour in the customs line trying to stay awake. I was so exhausted that even the floor looked cozy. I struggled through the brief interview; the aggressive agent who interrogated me asked very specific questions about my linguistics degree. Maybe he thought I was training to be a spy, or an assassin? Anyways, I then endured an inordinately nauseating taxi ride and emerged to the unwelcoming swampy weather. It was about 4 p.m. Eastern Time, and in England, I would be getting ready for bed. Fortunately, there is a cocktail to combat jet lag: the espresso martini.  

Perhaps to my detriment, I was staying a block from a For Five Coffee Roasters location, which advertises on a sign that it serves “the best espresso martinis in Rosslyn.” Such a claim is unimpressive, since Rosslyn is relatively small and doesn’t have many bars. Still, I didn’t need much convincing to place an order. I just needed caffeine.  

So I write from the bar countertop with an espresso martini, made with Grey Goose espresso vodka and For Five Coffee Roasters’ own brand of espresso beans. Technically, the espresso martini isn’t a martini because it contains neither gin nor vermouth. The cocktail — a flexible combination of vodka, espresso, and coffee liqueur — is just usually served in a martini glass. Supposedly, the drink was invented by British bartender Dick Bradsell when a young model asked for something to wake her up and mess her up (although she used slightly crass language in placing the request).  

An espresso martini is delightfully dangerous: The coffee flavor masks the taste of alcohol, leading a patron to easily assume the drink is weak. Similarly, the stimulating caffeine obscures the effects of alcohol, a depressant. Put simply, you get tipsy without getting tired. I thought I was just drinking iced coffee from a fancy glass, but then the intoxication crept up on me, and now the words on my computer screen are slightly blurry. (The editors will have some typos to fix.) 

Something about the espresso martini feels refined and sophisticated, as if it deserves to be served at fancy brunches. Mimosas often taste cheap, usually a consequence of poor-quality sparkling wine that undergraduates spray on each other after exams. By contrast, the rich coffee flavor of the espresso martini tastes like wealth. I imagine a blonde Trophy Wife, wearing a diamond ring that reflects light like a magnificent chandelier, elegantly sipping an espresso martini without spilling it on her designer bag that costs more than what I make annually.  

Sadly, the espresso martini has its defects. Despite its deliciousness, I can have only one, or else I become jittery and anxious, like a little kid in the backseat heading to Disney World. The cocktail doesn’t pair well with food, although chocolate desserts are a notable exception to this rule. I don’t love the typical garnish — three coffee beans — because I don’t like to chew when I’m drinking. 

But perhaps the bigger issue is that the cocktail isn’t standardized to the same degree as others. Just as every coffee enthusiast has a tailored set of specific modifications for crafting the perfect latte, the espresso martini has many variations. Some concoctions use sweeter liqueurs and therefore are better branded as dessert cocktails. Not all coffee beans are created equal, so a poor-quality espresso can easily ruin the drink, perhaps by being too watery or too bitter. More recently, some bartenders have opted for cold-brew coffee, which spares them from grinding beans and resorting to a fancy machine for an espresso shot.   

Ultimately, you are at the mercy of the bartender when you order an espresso martini: The coffee beans might be subpar, the espresso machine might not be calibrated properly, and the liqueur might be overpoweringly sweet. But nobody orders an espresso martini because of how it tastes. You order the drink because of what it does: It awakens you before the night really begins.