Behind the Royal Courts of Justice, on Carey Street, you will find the Seven Stars, one of London's oldest pubs. Run by the inimitable and indomitable Roxy Beaujolais, it is a gem of a place; narrow and oddly laid out, to be sure, and often very busy, but wonderfully idiosyncratic and beloved of regulars. The beer is very well kept, I am advised by people whose expertise in such matters is greater than my own, the food on offer is superb, and the range of wines is by no means miserly. However, the Seven Stars has a secret weapon up its sleeve.
Roxy's Perfect Martini is old-school. There are no cocktail-shaker pyrotechnics, no "magic" ingredients, no rare or quirky spirits - simply three shots of ice-cold gin (or vodka, if you must), a whiff of Noilly Prat, and your choice of an olive, a twist of lemon or a cocktail onion (which, strictly, turns the drink into a Gibson). It is prepared swiftly and served simply and conventionally. What makes it so good? It is hard to pin down, exactly. Certainly, the surroundings and the atmosphere contribute to the experience. The straightforwardness of the drink is also pleasing. It would also be disingenuous to deny that the extraordinary value of £7 is also an attraction. But my best advice would simply be to go, and try. Any of the staff will do the business for you (though Gillian is especially dexterous with the gin bottle), then try to find a seat, or stand outside if the weather is fine, and enjoy that characteristic rush of warmth through the body which is the hallmark of the first sip of a good martini.
One word of warning: as with any martini, quantity control is important. Do not expect the staff to monitor your intake for you. I once had five Perfect Martinis, and felt a little queer afterwards. But a) it was my own fault, and b) goodness, it was fun getting there.
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