The best martini I was ever served was at the bar of a wedding reception I attended in Staatsburg, NY a few years ago. The bartender said if I could wait a bit after it was shaken, letting it sit would 
put an additional chill on it, a tip I have since practiced. Never having an interest in distilled drinks, a habit I’ve taken up to have a Friday after work martini was an unexpected affection. Maybe it came from the two secret agent martini parties I threw for my friends and neighbors when living in Ardmore.
Although the conventional wisdom that James Bond would be the consummate martini drinker, I now realize that he was no purist. Even his signature “shaken, not stirred” violates the purists’ preference for stirring so as not to create ice chips (which I rather like to float in my drink). In fact, the first Bond novel, Casino Royale showed Bond’s indifference when he first snapped at the bartender’s question for shaken or stirred with the remark, “does it look like I give a damn?” Later in the book he orders one with Felix with the outrageous instructions of three parts gin, one part vodka and half a part of Lillet instead of vermouth, and a lemon slice.
I vary from either gin or vodka depending on my mood (vodka upbeat outgoing and gin tired and inward). The purist would strictly be limited to gin and just the slightest hint of vermouth. Churchill was supposed to have said that just walking near the vermouth bottle is the proper amount to add.
