Getting a Buzz

What folks are drinking and thinking when they can do either

THIS season's beverage has an evocative aroma, no carbonated components, and little color unless sunlight hits the glass just so and one happens to be wearing bright cottons. Made from unequal parts of dry vermouth, rainwater, and fortified clam juice, the beverage slakes without cloying.

It encourages indulgence. It loosens.

Social drinkers in the coastal areas call it the Sandal, perhaps because it's so airy, so indicative of a relaxed attitude. It carries propriety and informality to every occasion. Midwesterners and Southerners have many names for it according to local dialect, but Whistle has become generic.

A favored mot at country clubs and seaside watering holes is “Give me a pair of Sandals.“ Bartenders never tire of hearing the order, which they fill with a smile and a hearty “Buckle up” as glasses and money change hands. Wags refer to a fellow's being “properly shod this evening.” Romantic dinners begin with the lovers' slipping into something more comfortable. Dieters and athletes apologize for “going barefoot.”

Some have likened it to a martini without the bite or a gee & tee without the bubbles. Others say they had a kind of imported vodka like it once somewhere in someone's lodge. Still others say the Sandal has nothing on a good Chablis properly chilled.

But the majority are happy to call the Sandal their beverage of choice, if only for a season. They feel as if everyone is joining them. They belong, and they are pleasantly high most of the time.

—Jeffrey Burke