Yes, Smirnoff

I used to think that Smirnoff was a vodka brownbaggers drink. But recently I have taken to Smirnoff. And at $12.99 for a 750-ml. bottle it's less than half the price of the super premiums. But it's not that I have suddenly become fiscally responsible in my drink choices (careful audit of my Amex bill confirms this). Thing is, I like Smirnoff. I like, God help me, the taste. I'm certain it's something my eventual sponsor and I will agree on.

I was brought to Smirnoff as many others were in the past couple of years when The Times conducted the now famous taste test in which Smirnoff bested 20 other vodkas, Grey Goose and Ketel One among them. My mention of this to our soviet bartender at Red Square vodka bar in Vegas was met with the dismissive silly-capitalist-American glower sported by Regan-era movie villains. Curious, I picked up a bottle and it's been a staple ever since.

What I really like about Smirnoff is that it tastes like alcohol. To the undiscerning this is a bad thing. Think of all the cloying -tini atrocities that resemble sundaes more than a cocktails. Smirnoff tastes as if the inside of your mouth has been swabbed with alcohol but without the burn, sucking the air out of your mouth and leaving you with a classic vodka-wheat taste. I originally intended Smirnoff to be my mixer of choice, but I have found myself using it to make a nice dry, frosty martini and being wholly satisfied. I even drink it neat on occasion.

There are smoother vodkas and ones with more character, but for nailing the basics, you can't go wrong with Smirnoff. We're talking thirteen bucks, people.

Incidentally, I speak of the red label Smirnoff, or No. 21, which is the standard 80 proof. There are also gray and blue labels, which are 90 proof and 100 proof respectively (I have no use for the extra firepower). Though presumably the brownbaggers appreciate the value.