Catching up on some 2010 reading that I had heretofore missed–will my manservant ever catalog the periodicals correctly?–I find that Wayne Curtis shares my aversion to supersized cocktails.
Small cocktails were favored for a simple reason: they stay chilled from beginning to end. Few things are as unappealing as a Martini that’s warm when you hit bottom, with the possible exception of an Old-Fashioned on the rocks that’s both watery and warm at bottom.
My own feelings on the matter are, of course, well documented, and, having actually been alive to witness this horrible evolution firsthand (I do not know, but I suspect that Mr. Curtis is a mere pup of 50 or so), I can speak to the matter better than most. But Curtis’s words are well weighed, and he has the distinct advantage of being willing to report from locales (such as T.G.I. Friday’s and Margaritaville) where I fear to tread.