"Beefeater martini, straight up, absoloutely NO vermouth, with an olive." That's exactly how Fletch ordered it every time we met in California on business during the 1970's. That's also a pretty dry way to wet your whistle. Very often this was followed by prime rib, medium rare. Those were the days when we flew first class and would drive an hour to have dinner in San Francisco.
I haven't seen or spoken to Fletch in a long, long time, and I'm not sure if he's even still alive, but if you're out there Fletch, this one's for you. (By the way, I really don't think Fletch could have brought himself to drink a martini in a RED glass.)
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