All Gibsons Are Martinis

But not all Martinis are Gibsons

When I sit down to write, I open Apple Notes and scroll to my "ideas" section for inspiration. Months ago, at the top of the page in all caps, I wrote, "DON'T ALWAYS WRITE ABOUT MARTINIS," and I promise I try. Today, however, I figured I would utilize a loophole, the Gibson.

On the surface, the two drinks seem very similar. From a distance they look the same. Their comparison reminds me of a poster that hung in my high school geometry class, "all squares are rectangles, but not all rectangles are squares." I would venture to say that all Gibsons are Martinis, but not all Martinis are Gibsons.

The origins of the cocktail are, of course, shrouded in mystery. You have heard all the stories, I'm sure, and I hope they are all true deep down. My favorite one goes like this:

Charles Gibson, known doodler, asked a bartender, Charley Connolly, at the Players Club to make a drink that surpassed the Martini. Charley did so by adding cocktail onions to our favorite clear cocktail and called it a Gibson. History was made.

Now first off, and the thing that no one ever talks about is the gall that Charles Gibson had to ask a bartender to make a drink better than the Martini. I can only imagine that conversation went something like this: 

Charley: "Hey there, Mr. G, what can I get ya?"

Gibson: "Hiya Charley, you know how the Martini is the most popular cocktail of all time?”

Charley: “Yessir! I sure make a bunch of them.”

Gibson: “And that when someone says the word ‘cocktail’ the Martini is the first image most people conjure up in their mind?”

Charley: “Yeah, that makes sense?”

Gibson: “And that even the name of the cocktail, due to its notoriety, is now synonymous with the actual glass it is served in.”

Charley: “You mean the Martini glass? Yeah, everyone calls them that.”

Gibson: “And that people will most likely be drinking this iconic cocktail, the Martini, long after you and I are both dead and gone?”

Charley: “Uh...yeah I guess?”

Gibson: “How about you make me something better than that?"

Charley: [Exit bar left]

Secondly, this has always bugged me; if the Gibson was invented right then and there, where did Charley get the pickled onions? Was the bar stocking cocktail onions before the only onion cocktail we know of was created, just in case someone came in and said, "why not toss an onion in there?" I think this story is missing a layer or two, but this isn't Unsolved Mysteries; this is Cocktail Doodle!

The funny thing is the Gibson, in one form or another, was around before that story took place. In The Worlds Drinks and How to Drink Them by William Boothby published in 1908, there is a Gibson recipe, but it doesn't call for onions. The only thing this equal parts gin and vermouth version specifies is not to include bitters. Even further back, the Wall Street Journal mentioned a non-bittered Gibson being served at the Bohemian Club in San Francisco in 1898. We don't see onion listed as a garnish until 1914 in Beverages de Lux by Stanley Bronner and George R. Washburne in what they call the Onion Cocktail. But it wasn't until 1922 in Cocktails and How to Mix Them by Robert Vermeire that we see the Gibson garnished with an onion.

So it seems that onions would have been behind the bar! Mystery solved.

Check out EUVS Vintage Cocktail Books to look up scans of those old books I mentioned. And thanks to paid subscriber Matt Marol for sending me a link to that wonderful resource.

When you flip to a Gibson in a modern cocktail book these days, the recipe usually looks like this:

Gibson
See 'Martini'
Garnish with a small pearl onion instead of an olive

That isn't enough information (or enough onion), and as a drinker of both cocktails, it feels rather disrespectful. With the popular ratio of the Martini hovering around the 50/50 mark, if one were to just depth charge an onion in that insulting ratio of gin and vermouth, they would be missing the Gibson’s essence. If you like your Martini made with equal parts, it is still technically a Martini, not one I would drink, but a Martini nonetheless. The Gibson is no equal parts affair. It isn't a 2-1, a 3-1, or even a 5-1 situation. It must be taken very dry, starting around six parts gin to one of vermouth and perhaps even at a higher ratio if you can handle it.

The other tidbit would be the addition of bitters—don't. Or rather, you shouldn't. I have no qualms against bitters in a Martini. However, suppose I go to the trouble, and I rarely do; in that case, I prefer the tiniest drop of Angostura to the traditional orange variety unless I plan to venture into Turf Club or Martinez territory. In a Gibson, you should avoid bitters. They don't play well with the pickled nature of the onion. Garnish aside, the lack of bitters is the the major division between the two famous cocktails.

Before we get to the onion part, I want to touch on a small rule bend that I enjoy with my Gibsons. When stirring the cocktail with ice, I like to add a lemon peel to the mixing glass. I put it right in there with the ice, gin, and vermouth and watch it spin around a few dozen times, and then I leave it in the mixing glass with the ice after straining out the cold liquid. I don't squeeze a peel over a Gibson as I would with a Martini, and I don't stir my Martini with a peel. It's a little quirk, there isn't much science behind it, and I recommend it wholeheartedly.

So that brings us to the pièce de résistance, the onion. The pickled onion! From time to time, when cooking, I will add a slice of raw white onion to a Martini, a trick I picked up from Mr. Hemingway, but I wouldn't call that a Gibson. No, the trick is in the pickling and the onion itself. You must use a small, hard, pearl, or silver-skinned onion that has been pickled. You can make your own from scratch or buy them already pickled and ready to go at a store, but don't go cheap; the bottom shelf cocktail onions are usually mushy and gross. They could turn you off from the whole thing altogether. I like these.

There is no need to freeze the cocktail onions, as our friend Ernest would recommend; I find it makes them soggy when they thaw. You want the onion to crunch! Two onions are enough, and three begin to crowd the glass. I only ever use one onion if, heaven forbid, only one remains in the bottom of the jar. It is rumored that Charley, our hero bartender from above, added two onions to Charles Gibson's drink as a symbolic reference to the breasts of the Gibson Girls illustrations.

Another trick is sequencing. One should place the breasts, err, onions in the bottom of a chilled, preferably frozen, straight-sided cocktail glass and pour the mixture over them. I like to skewer one and leave the other free. Please don't drop the little guys into the glass; it's bad form, no splashing and all.

Before taking my first sip, I pick up the skewered onion leaving the other undisturbed, and enjoy the sour, funky brine and crunch before washing it down with an ice-cold sip. The second onion I ignore for the rest of the drink. It distinguishes my cocktail from others and allows it to impart whatever flavor it might to the drink. Before my last sip and right after ordering a second Gibson, I enjoy the remaining onion, now engorged with gin, after its quick bath.

Oh, and some people like to put a little onion brine in their Gibson like it's a dirty Martini or something. Some people also think it's okay to put ketchup on a hotdog or blast their headphones on an airplane. Mustard and relish for me, reasonable volume at all times, and I leave the brine in the jar where it belongs; thank you very much.

Let's finally mix this thing!

Gibson
In a chilled and iced mixing glass:
60 ml Tanqueray Gin
10 ml Noilly Prat Extra Dry Vermouth
1 Lemon Peel
Stir ingredients and Lemon Peel until frigid 
Strain into a chilled cocktail glass garnished with two cocktail onions

Did Charley Connolly make a drink better than the Martini at the Players Club that day? Hard to say. But now you can find out for yourself! What time is it?

Thanks for reading.