Before Whiskey Stones, There Were Martini Stones — And They Didn’t Work Either

People love to hate whiskey stones, and for good reason. As one Reddit user claims, “they’re very good at chipping glasses and tooth enamel.” And regardless of how one feels about dilution, whiskey stones don’t cool down liquids nearly as well as ice. Yet, they remain a popular gift for Father’s Days and younger drinkers in their early 20s who love — or at least claim to love — whiskey.

While whiskey stones are a relatively recent addition to the offbeat world of Williams Sonoma-esque drinking accessories, putting chilled rocks in beverages is nothing new. However, the intention wasn’t always cooling sans dilution.

Back in the ‘60s when the age of increasingly bone-dry Martinis was underway, there was a slew of Martini-making gadgets on the market, nearly all of which were designed to concoct the driest possible iteration of the cocktail. There was a syringe built for measuring vermouth down to the milliliter, allowing drinkers to dial in 30:1 ratios of gin or vodka to aromatized wine. There was a Martini oil can, which was essentially a clunky, impractical bitters-style dispenser for vermouth. But among the bunch of obscure, dry Martini doodads, the most questionable may be Martini Stones.

What Are Martini Stones and How Do They Work?

According to a 2010 blog post by U.K.-based spirits writer David T. Smith, Martini Stones were produced by Illinois-based company Podam Co. starting in 1963 and distributed by gift importer and wholesaler Baekgaard & Butler. Packaged in a small glass jar, the stones are small chunks of limestone.

In March 2022, Italian educational researcher Fabio Nascimbeni also wrote about the stones in his “The Martini Hour” blog, and included a photo of the instruction sheet that came along with them. The first few steps call for pouring dry vermouth or sherry into the jar of limestone pieces, closing the lid, and letting the rocks steep in the liquid. “Martini Stones, after curing in your favorite Dry Vermouth for twenty-four hours, absorb the delicate aroma of the wine,” the instructions read. “When the stone is added to chilled Gin or Vodka, only the best in the wine drifts into and blends harmoniously with the Gin or Vodka.”

It’s unclear as to what the producers mean by “the best in the wine,” but the manual likens the stones’ effects to the “memorable flavor of your first sip from a cool mountain stream or brook where the pure water caressed every rock and stone before meeting your lips.” It also recommends either one large stone or two small ones for a perfect “Stone Martini.” Once they’ve worked their supposed magic, the manual asserts that the stones can be rinsed with warm water, air dried, and placed back in the “soaker jar for reuse.”

But Do They Work?

Even though limestone is a relatively porous rock, it’s hard to imagine that the stone chips would transfer any detectable vermouth flavor to a glass full of gin or vodka. In his blog, Nascimbeni theorizes that they were inspired by an old practice of soaking olives in fortified wine to make extra-dry Martinis. Perhaps the drinkers of the time saw that method as vermouth overkill but still wanted to drink something that qualified as a Martini. In all fairness, it is undeniably classier to sip on a “Martini” than a triple shot of gin or vodka.

For Smith’s earlier blog post, he tested and reviewed Martini Stones, reporting that the product is — unsurprisingly — not very effective. “I can hardly taste the vermouth at all,” Smith writes. “I think you would get more vermouth in your drink from a simple rinse of the glass to start with. Personally, I’d rather have a vermouth-soaked olive than this.”

Creativity and intent aside, it’s safe to say that Martini Stones were no more than a gimmick designed for people who liked the idea of Martinis more than the actual cocktail itself. If the driest possible drink really is the end goal, just add ice-cold gin to a glass and garnish with an olive or lemon twist. It may not be a Martini in the technical sense, but it’s more honest than adding wet stones to booze and calling it a cocktail.

*Image retrieved from zef art via stock.adobe.com

The article Before Whiskey Stones, There Were Martini Stones — And They Didn’t Work Either appeared first on VinePair.