My first encounter with this mythic beast was at a fine dining restaurant in Boston, MA. I was under-age and my uncle had ordered a Martini, dry, with Tanqueray. I said that I would have the same, and I wasn't carded. It was lackluster, I didn't get it. It was a cold glass of gin and tasted like it. A few years later I was thumbing through a dog-eared copy of Mr. Boston's and saw a recipe for a dry Gin Martini. My parent's had a new bottle of vermouth, so I cracked it open, added half a measure to a tin with a measure of gin, I stirred for 20 seconds and added a swath of lemon peel. Not many cocktails change your life. A well-made classic Gin Martini stopped me in my tracks.