The Manhattan

Some cocktails are named for a person, some for an accident, some for nothing in particular. The Manhattan is named for an island, and it has carried that name with a certain confidence for well over a century — because it is, by any fair measure, one of the two or three best drinks ever assembled.

Whiskey, sweet vermouth, a couple of dashes of bitters, stirred cold. Like its cousin the martini, it is short, spirit-forward, and built on proportion. But where the martini is cold and dry and severe, the Manhattan is warm, round, and faintly autumnal.

THE BUILD

The classic ratio is two parts whiskey to one part sweet vermouth, with two or three dashes of Angostura bitters. Rye is the traditional choice and the better one — its dry, spicy backbone cuts the sweetness of the vermouth and keeps the drink from going soft. Bourbon works too, rounder and gentler. The bitters are not optional; they are the seasoning that pulls the whole thing into focus.

Stir it — never shake — over plenty of ice, until it is properly cold and has taken on a little water. Strain into a chilled glass. A brandied cherry at the bottom, and if you like, a twist of orange expressed over the top.

THE CITY IN A GLASS

There is a reason the drink and the island share a name and have never been embarrassed by it. The Manhattan is sophisticated without effort, classic without being dull, equally right in a grand hotel bar and a small dark booth. It is, like the place, a little formal and entirely sure of itself.

Make one tonight — rye, good vermouth, real bitters, stirred with patience. It has been the right answer for a hundred years.

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POUR — Two parts rye, one part sweet vermouth, two dashes bitters, stirred. Cherry.

MOOD — Warm. Classic. Sure of itself.