Order a martini in Ukraine at your own risk. I’ve not been everywhere, but the places I’ve been don’t seem to get it. This was confirmed by a friend who lives in Odessa. He said to me, “Hey, you like martinis! I had one the other day when visiting a prison. The director insisted I join her in a martini. I thought, ‘Ugh.’ But it was very good. I was surprised. She showed me the bottle. It said ‘Martini’ right on it.”
Ummm. Yeah. I had to tell my friend he still didn’t like martinis. He had a drink, in a cocktail glass, of dry vermouth. What’s strange — but not that strange — is that the prison director thought it was a martini. I suppose it was false sophistication.
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