Ah, the mystique of a well-made martini. To hear connoisseurs tell it, you’d think it contained the clear-liquid keys to immortality, sexual prowess, and immeasurable wealth — in order of individual preference, no less. But don’t you believe it. You want to know a martini’s big secret? It’s made entirely of alcohol, kids. You have your distilled spirit, you have your fortified wine (vermouth). There’s no juice, no syrup, no soda, no cream, no nothin’ but booze. Of course a round or two makes you superhuman.



Nestling up to the Crown Bar’s fire below artist James Hume’s rendition of Steve McQueen, Tator Tot and I discussed our future over a few Gibsons and their killer zihua mushroom quesidilla with serrano tomato salsa, which has gradually become one of my late night go-tos for its quickness out of the kitchen and yum factor. And the Crown attracts the mature hipster crowd — free of loud cheers and excess drool — well, except for me.



For all its potency, the Gibson — 3 oz. vodka, 1 tsp dry vermouth and two pickled pearl onions — went down easy.



Just like my instructions for my future.



[Crown Bar, 2705 Sixth Ave., Tacoma, 253.272.4177]