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The last time I was in Miami was nearly 20 years ago: college spring break in 2009, my senior year. Everclear and Yellowtail were the only spirits I knew, so when my girls and I were invited to the VIP suites located on the upper mezzanine—better known as sky boxes—at celebrity hangouts like LIV and served Moët by the bottle, I went in. So far in, a stranger (the ultimate girl’s girl) crawled underneath the bathroom stall at a diner on South Beach, helped me to my feet, and walked me back to my table.
I’ve never told anyone this story out of pure embarrassment. But now, with 40 approaching and some distance from my 21-year-old self, it feels more like a rite of passage—a wild chapter, not a regret. Back then, I had no idea I’d one day appreciate elevated dining or develop a passion for gin martinis and classics like the Vesper—James Bond’s signature cocktail first immortalized in Ian Fleming’s 1953 book Casino Royale and later in the 2006 film.
The pomp and circumstance of a martini deepens my love. The long, ice-cold pour of gin. The shaking in a gold or silver shaker, the ice that chills the glass, and, of course, the pure chicness of me bringing a martini glass to my lips and taking a sip.
Among the most memorable martinis I’ve ever had: Ferraro’s Pasta Water Martini at the Four Seasons Maui, a gin martini at the Conrad Osaka (this was my first intro to Japanese gin), and, more recently, a martini adorned with a caviar bump at Lisa Vanderpump’s Pinky’s in Las Vegas.
So when I heard the world’s coldest martini—originally from Dubai—was making its Miami debut at the iconic, newly renovated Delano Miami Beach Hotel, courtesy of Mimi Kakushi (recognized by the World’s 50 Best and channeling 1920s Osaka), I knew I had to slip away from Paraiso Miami Swim Week for an 8:00 PM reservation, just before Meg the Stallion’s sophomore swim collection debut at 10.
As a wooden table rolled toward me in a buzzing restaurant filled with fresh sushi and sake, I couldn’t wait for the illustrious cocktail the restaurant named the “Nara Nara.” The drink, a blend of The Botanist Gin infused with Japanese Ume and vermouth, is kept in bespoke bottles, frozen inside a massive block of ice that you can’t see until the bartender pours room-temperature water over it. A young woman greeted me in a cream kimono-style top and introduced herself.
As we chatted, she pulled out a sharp ice pick and a wooden mallet. I’ve had martinis all over the world, and this was a first. As she banged the mallet atop the pick, I let out an audible “whoa” when the sharp edge hit the corner of the block, sending a large piece of ice onto the table.
Once the block of ice was cracked open, a small bottle at -4°F, adorned with a black-and-white photo of a stunning Japanese woman with 1920s-era black waves, emerged. Because the restaurant’s bar menu was inspired by the life and films of Sessue Hayakawa—a Japanese silent film actor who became a major star in Hollywood and Europe during the 1920s—the striking photo on the bottle felt perfectly fitting.
Was it the coldest martini I’ve ever had? Yup. Was it among the smoothest? Absolutely. Was it worth the nearly $40 price tag (with tip more like $50)? Yes.
In a world where bartenders are rushed to shake drinks in seconds—think: cocktails as fast fashion—the art can get lost. But here, from the presentation to the education to the glassware, the martini is elevated: an artful experience for true cocktail connoisseurs.
One I’d imagine takes bartenders days to master—and one that will be memorable long beyond your trip to Dubai or Miami.
The girl who once needed a stranger to crawl under a bathroom stall and lift her off a Miami diner floor could never have imagined ordering a $40 martini—chipped from a block of ice—at a members-only club in the same city. Or sitting front row at Swim Week as a journalist with 10 years in the industry.
Some things really do come full circle even when it’s past your bedtime, and I’m here for it.