Observe:

John Camp, Financial Disaster
Mixed media: Monopoly money, screen,
foam core, cardboard, 2008, 7.5 × 2 feet

Make sure to check out the drink at Urbana Restaurant & Bar (2121 P St NW).

Poignant and perhaps our favorite piece so far. The leaves, though wilted, seem to flutter in the frame, possessed by second life:

William Knipscher, Trace No. 5
C-print, 2008, 38 × 28 inches

We hope you won’t neglect to try Souheil Chaouachi’s liquid interpretation of Trace No. 5. By all accounts, it’s delicious and still available at Teatro Goldoni, the winning bar from last year (1909 K St NW).

Don’t forget to vote for your favorite artini. Here’s your ‘tini art for the day:

Elisabeth Arzt, Tortoise & the Bare
Ceramic, 2008, 10 × 5 feet

…which inspired Erik Holzherr’s delightful beverage by the same name. Consume one at Wisdom (1432 Pennsylvania Avenue SE).

My superiors have informed me that the 2009 Artini Season began two days ago. (I was so busy recovering from the previous iteration that I’d hardly noticed.)

SO IT’S BACK INTO THE THICK OF IT, folks…spring is just around the corner, the drinks are flowing like aspersions from a jilted Press Secretary, and, according to Megan Harmon at the Corcoran, those artsy concoctions are better than ever.

Stay tuned for more buzz.

The boys from the City Paper chase down the ghost of Derrida at Hudson’s Restaurant & Lounge. Oh, Momma!

Brian’s take: I find it ironic that it was not until the very last of these 15 grueling tastings that we got to try an actual, real live, honest-to-goodness, no strings-attached straight-up martini. That is, if you consider a martini with vodka instead of gin to be such. But if you do, this was the real deal: vodka, vermouth, bitters, chilled glass, stirred, not shaken, with a large helping of drink history, anatomy, and physiology from impressive mixologist John Hogan. Upon tasting this expertly made drink, I realized how close I had come to forgetting what a martini is. John jogged my memory. Then he handed me a plate of three homemade potato chips, each with a different dollop on top: one with a Vermouth espuma, one with a vodka espuma, and the last with a bleu cheese reduction. Benissimo!

On a scale of 1 to 5 olive branches: 4.689

Ted’s take: Heroes are made… not born.

On a scale of 1 to 5 olive branches: 4.85

Brian’s take: There’s nothing I enjoy more than a good basil leaf. (All right, well there are probably a few things I enjoy more, but not many I tell you, not many.) The “Byzantine” at Hook had several such leaves floating in it, which made for quite the aromatic drinking experience. Unfortunately, however, the smelling was superior to the tasting. The olfactory experience was top-notch–the thing smelled like a melted pineapple pizza, which my party and I found to be surprisingly pleasant–but once the concoction hit my lips and trickled across my tongue, I was instantly underwhelmed. And although I like basil leaves, I am not so enamored of soggy, fruit juice-soaked basil leaves. Given the choice between pizza and beer and the Byzantine, I’d spring for the former, fo sho.

On a scale of 1 to 5 olive branches: 3.245

Ted’s take: Nothing on this earth is more seductive than a good basil leaf.

…with the possible exception of that ethereal glimmer in the right pair of gray eyes….

On a scale of 1 to 5 olive branches: 3

Brian’s take: The artini at Perry’s was about as complex as its name is long: “Perry’s Sangria Pipette and Apple Gelee Martini.” Now I’m a simple guy, but I have to say that in this unique case, more was actually more. Talk about sweating the details–Perry’s artini had psychedelic colors, a titillating texture (imagine what it must feel like to have flavorful specs of apple sauce floating in your drink), and strangely surgical-looking pipettes protruding from the whole ensemble. These pipettes were filled with sangria, a whole separate drink unto itself, and you could do with them what wished: drink the sangria straight from the pipe, inject the sangria into the apple gelee, stir the whole shebang pipette-style, suck the drink into the pipette and then squeeze it out again, shove the pipette into your friends ear and watch him squirm, &tc. The options were apparently limitless, and we sat there playing with our drinks–and devouring all manner of delectable sushi rolls, each of which jived with the flavor of the artini remarkably well–as the liquor went to our heads and the fish to our stomachs.

On a scale of 1 to 5 olive branches: 4.789

Ted’s take: Gastronomical purity and a self-assured cocktail. In the words of Cocteau: “Hell yes, motherf*cker.”

On a scale of 1 to 5 olive branches: 4.9

With the bracing knowledge that all things must pass, we bittersweetly report that last night was the grand finale of Artini Season ‘08, a climactic blowout at the Corcoran. We laughed, we cried…we drank artinis (those that were available, that is; only the Goldini, the D’Ici, and the Dolly Madison were in attendance).

Between sips, partygoers got a chance to explore the Corcoran at night–to revel in the Bierstadts, to commune with Warhol’s Mao, to steep themselves in the portraiture of Gilbert Stuart.

As the pulsing music deafened and the night wore on, we were pleased to observe that all the old faces were there–Megan and Kristin from the Corcoran, Chancy from A Not So Capital Idea, Alice Appleton–a trooper in the true sense of the word, who made it to the event on crutches– from wherever she comes from, Maureen, Terry, and of course the bartenders and proprietors themselves–John Hogan from Hudson, Rico from Poste, Jeremy from Westend, Joe from Topaz, Omar and José from the Teatro Goldoni, Paul and Gina from Indebleu….

But enough of this wishy-washy sentimentalizing; you just want to know who won!

…drumroll…

And the winner is…the Goldini! That’s right: Omar’s espresso-and chocolate-infused dessert martini took home the grand prize. Omar, meanwhile, was a very happy man, jumping, dancing, laughing the rest of the night away…like Roberto Benigni after winning the Oscar.

There are still some videos to come, and always more martinis to be…artfully consumed. As we look towards the ‘09 Artini Season–as bartenders bulk up in the offseason, learn new tricks and hatch new schemes–let us remember the abiding truth that, if in wine there is truth, in martini there is ART.

Th-th-th-th-that’s all, folks!

Photos courtesy of Denny Henry: www.dennyhenry.com/artini.

The Park
920 14th St. NW

Tanqueray gin
Bit of Chambord
Lemon juice
…and a splash of cranberry juice

Brian’s take: I enjoyed the Dolly Madison, but I have to say the drink was drowned out by the fierce lights and furious sound system that commanded The Park on the Thursday evening we visited. It was nice to finally have an artini that used gin–I’ve been hankering for something with a little more kick through all these “smooth” and “light” and “tasty” concoctions. Still, no amount of Tanqueray could compete with the sheer spectacle that lay before us: a party thrown by Lebron James, a fashion show, and a bouncer-to-patron ratio approaching 1 to 1. (The bouncers, I must say, were very courteous). I had a great time, of course, for a multitude of reasons, but I do wish I had a chance to ask Lebron what he thought of this dainty little artini. Because, you know, there’s nothing James loves more than a Dolly Madison.

On a scale of 1 to 5 olive branches: 3.5

Ted’s take: Well, hey nonny nonny…it’s the Dolly Madison! Like its namesake, the drink sports a subtle sweetness, though unlike its namesake, it was not born on May 20, 1768. Like its namesake, it is pink in complexion, though unlike its namesake, it did not serve as First Lady of the United States between the years of 1809 and 1817. Like its namesake, the drink is likely to provoke a drunken rabble to strange acts of obscenity and violence–but unlike its namesake, it does not hail from a small Quaker community in the area now known as Guilford County, NC.

So much for Wikipedia. The real story with this beverage is one of sport & intrigue, blood & guts, rape & pillage. Rather like the Hope diamond, the Dolly Madison bears a savage and beautiful curse–it captivates the minds of men who would steal, kill–even die for it. It is a drink of high passion and fine chaos…a vortex of sinful pleasure & wicked kicks….

So go on, try the Dolly Madison. BUT BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR….

On a scale of 1 to 5 olive branches: 3

Lotus Lounge
1420 K St. NW

Vodka
Peach schnapps
Peach nectar
Cranberry juice
Orange juice
Pineapple juice
A splash of grenadine
…and garnished with radish OR cucumber

Brian’s take: I got lucky at the lovely lysergic Lotus Lounge. Now, now, now–get your mind out of the gutter. My luck was wholly wholesome, and came in the guise of a zig-zaggy, spring-like coil of cucumber as a garnish in my Wild Orchid artini. While all of my fellow tasters had some kind of radish contraption floating in their drinks, for some reason I got this curious green little fellow. I have to say, I tasted the other artinis, and my cuke made it markedly better. I could feel the nutrients being digested by my saliva-liva-liva-liva-liva:::::::::::::::::::cucumber::::::::::::::::fresh crunchy springy twirly swirly whirly artsy fartsy tini weenie Lotusssssssss……The Wild Orchid.

On a scale of 1 to 5 olives: 3

Ted’s take: Creme tangerine and Montélimar–a ginger sling with a pineapple heart– a coffee dessert, yes you know it’s good news…but you’ll have to have them all pulled out after the Wild Orchid.

Cool cherry cream, nice apple tart–I feel your taste all the time we’re apart. Coconut fudge–really blows down those blues…but you’ll have to have them all pulled out after the Wild Orchid!

George Harrison, sometime guru and veteran of many trips, was not present on Tuesday night at the Lotus Lounge. Had he been in attendance, he would have found the Wild Orchid a drink of gooey delectation and thoroughly psychedelic impact. It requires a certain brand of alchemy to fit that many fruit flavors into one glass, but–dig this, man, it was like they all combined to make up, like, one fruit…far out?

On a scale of 1 to 5 olive branches: 3.25