I had finally been invited to the Martini Factory!
I will happily admit to using the word 'invited' rather liberally. Calling someone up and simply informing them of your intention to visit their home and that you will be wanting martinis, may not strictly speaking count as an invite.
The history of the Martini Factory is short and simple. After an evening spending ludicrous amounts of money on dry martinis at a swanky cocktail bar, Scotty decided it was time to learn how to make them at home. They do after all only have two ingredients, three if you pop some olives in there. And as he perfected his martini making technique, his flat more and more frequently turned into the Martini Factory.
And now my time had also come to visit the Factory and hopefully once and for all learn to appreciate martinis other than the porn star variety.
First win for the Martini Factory versus swanky cocktail bars: unlimited amounts of olives. Bartenders across London normally will give you one olive, if that, and sometimes just a stupid lemon twist. What am I suppose to do with the stupid lemon twist? The olives are the best bit, everyone knows that!
Second win for the Martini Factory versus swanky cocktail bars: personal big screen viewings of cartoons. The screen may not be as big as at the cinema but it's close enough considering it being in someone's living room. Movie of the night was Rio. Although at first, I was very disappointed to realise Rio wasn't the name of the bird, three martinis in I was mainly just extremely excited about all the dancing and colours and the jungle and the everything.
Third win for the Martini Factory versus swanky cocktail bars: Four martinis at the price of some snacks and a bus trip! Winner!
Now I'm just waiting for a mojito factory to open up. Any takers?
 |
| The Martini Master! |
 |
| And at the martini factory you get three olives if you want three olives! |
No comments:
Post a Comment