I Found The Best Martinis In NYC (And They're Not Where You'd Expect)

An ideal night out in New York City begins with a martini. They're shaken and stirred practically everywhere, perilously cresting just inside the edges of coupes and V-shaped glasses at our most august watering holes and dives alike. But even after a number of years of being paid to drink them as a restaurant critic, food writer, and lifestyle editor, I've found more places incapable of crafting the deceptively simple two-to-four-ingredient tipple (depending on how you count) than spots slinging great ones. A charming Italian restaurant better known for its red sauce and relative inconvenience (it's cash only, does not accept reservations, and gets prohibitively crowded) than its beverage program is the exception to this all-too-frequent disappointment.

Located at 38 Henry Street, Noodle Pudding has been operating between Brooklyn Heights, one of the borough's loveliest neighborhoods, and Dumbo, one of Brooklyn's most touristy locales, since 1995. I have been visiting for a fraction of those decades, but I try to pop in about once a week. For a long time, I mostly ordered the house wine, which hovered around an unheard of $5 a glass. But one night, a couple of winters ago, as I waited at the bursting bar for my husband, I made the obvious, overdue switch to a martini. I joined the apparent throngs of diners who'd already been sipping the gin or vodka-soaked cocktails, served wet or dry, decorated with olives or a twist, and prepared with the crucial element that I always think of as that fourth ingredient, after the spirit, the apéritif, and the garnish: the temperature.

Whether they're made with assertive Bombay or barely there Tito's, what Noodle Pudding's minimally rivaled martinis really are, is really cold. Although ice comes at a negligible cost, far fancier (and considerably more expensive) venues somehow fail to achieve the critically frigid component that makes a martini sing. I have seen plenty of spendier, skimpier efforts ($20+ versus Noodle Pudding's $14) die on the pass elsewhere, waiting to be ferried a few yards to my table, the perhaps once icy liquid's temp rising the whole time. I've also sampled fresher pours that maybe just didn't chill for long enough. But I've never seen a Noodle Pudding martini felled by these dual cruel fates.

Noodle Pudding's martinis are agitated with a vengeance, the sound of ice cubes against metal filling the air like a lover's laughter. They're also typically served with the tin like a sidecar shortcut. That leftover bit usually amounts to more than a splash, and it keeps its cool right inside the vessel from whence it came. This is not only uncommonly generous, but it's also an elegant bridge from one drink to the next. 

I would love little more than to make Noodle Pudding my easy, anytime libation destination. But that is never going to happen as long as its better-known qualities remain as great as they are. So please, if and when you do get in, order at least one martini while you can. And try not to linger; some of us are still waiting to grab a seat and get the night started right.