When it comes to San Antonio martinis, we’re not exactly purists. After all, early versions of the cocktail, like the one found in Harry Johnson's 1888 Bartenders' Manual, used everything from silky gum syrup to citrusy Curaçao. So what if a coffee bean is floating in your Nick and Nora glass? It’s still the most elegant drink in the room.
But our lenience with form doesn’t extend to function. Martinis need to be stout with no psychedelic Schnapps, served with a garnish that adds punch. And when it comes to where we drink them, nothing stirs us like these seven Alamo City bars.
Bohanan’s
Sometimes the cocktail itself is less important than the vibe. This downtown steakhouse does a perfect pour, but, more importantly, it looks like a place you would want to drink a martini. Upholstered stools sidle up to a handsome paneled bar, outfitted with a brass food rail, no less. The bartenders are in crisp white, flowers are delivered daily, and the glasses have never seen a smudge. The bar knows how to do impeccable, right down to the perfectly crisped fries.
Jue Let
The most shocking thing about the Soup for My Family martini isn't the fact that it tastes like a boozy bowl of clam chowder — it's the fact that Jenn Dobbertin didn't show it off sooner. The chef-owner of Best Quality Daughter brought back cocktail mastermind Liz Forsyth to craft the cocktails for her follow-up project, and the results are quirky. While not exactly for a first date, it's a drink you can share with a longtime companion who’s too in love to notice you paired your Soup with onion dip.
Amelia Social Lounge
With its velvet bucket chairs, fringe lamps, and boho rugs, the Creamery District lounge feels more relaxed than its paneled walls might suggest. The Thursday Martini Social Club features a trio of sweet $5 sippers (espresso, cosmo, ahem, pornstar). Still, we don’t mind ponying up a bit more for one of the more savory original creations. The Dew & Cue is a particular snack with dry gin, cucumber, honeydew, and some sage-y skunk. Sipped on a tufted leather sofa, it feels louche — less barefoot in the park than a provocative dangling pump.
Barbaro's martini has a scandalous amount of brine.Barbaro/ Facebook
Barbaro
Fond of filthy martinis? So is this Monte Vista pizzeria, which pours ‘em brackish, murky, practically debauched. Barbaro’s version is just olive brine and vodka; no pesky vermouth distracts from the shower of salt. Get them for $6 during the killer daily happy hour, paired with a Caesar salad that only kinda-sorta soaks up all that booze.
The Green Lantern
The three-martini lunch may have died long before Zoom arrived, but that doesn’t mean you can’t live out your Mad Men fantasies. With its exposed brick and hush-hush lighting, this Stone Oak spot sets the scene for backroom deals and wayward peccadilloes. The bartenders can certainly swizzle a 2:1 build, but don’t forget their jazzy martini riffs. Clear Your Schedule does away with gin and vodka entirely, adding white rum, orange bitters, and coconut to the dry vermouth.
Bar Mon Ami
The staff at this Broadway watering hole tend to get a little creative with their seasonal cocktails, mixing up everything from aloe to passionfruit-papaya tea to the spirits in their encyclopedic back bar. But like every good librarian, they still have a deep respect for the classics. The standard martini borrows from the 1922 template. It’s just vodka or gin, dry vermouth, and a smidge of orange bitters, topped with a thoroughly modern lemon peel.
The Modernist
A sandwich board explains this Government Hill bar’s two-step process: pick a spirit and a flavor and let the bartenders do the rest. That means a martini can be almost anything — botanical, crisp, dangerously citrusy, a whole novella squeezed into a coupe. If you dream it up, chances are The Modernist bartenders have already made it, and they’ve probably given it a name.
