Let's imagine you find yourself cornered at a party or a convention or, indeed, any other social event by a Martini Snob. You know the type... an insufferable pedant, full of trivia about the history of that noble drink, and pronouncements from on high as to exactly what is and is not a Martini. Someone like (cough) me.
You'll want to put the dastard in his place, of course. But given his (it's always a him, isn't it?) superior knowledge of a subject you never felt the least inclination to investigate, how?
Wait for a brief lull in the torrent of words -- even the most long-winded has to stop to take a breath -- and ask, "Do you prefer your Martinis shaken or stirred?"
Nine times out of ten, the Martini Snob will draw himself up and haughtily declaim, "Shaken, of course!" Because if one doesn't chill the Martini by shaking, there is no excuse for collecting shakers.
"Ah," you'll say. "Interesting."
"Interesting? How so?" the Martini Snob will ask suspiciously.
"Because you express a disdain for Martini-like drinks and yet that's exactly what you're drinking -- not a proper Martini, but a Bradford."
Nonsense will come out of the Martini Snob's mouth. He may even sputter. But you will endure it all with a saintly smile. Then, when he finally comes to a stop, you'll whip out your smartphone and suggest that he look it up.
Yes, technically speaking a proper Martini is always stirred, not shaken. Putting the fixings in a shaker and giving it a good rattling magically transforms it into a Bradford.
That's "technically," of course. Nobody uses the term in polite company. Save for the poor soul who's been cornered by a Martini Snob.
So do I use the term myself...?
No, of course not. Whenever I fix a cold, steely Martini, I employ a cocktail shaker. And afterwards I completely eschew the term Bradford for the more dignified moniker of Martini. But I know it's wrong. Very, very wrong.
Wrong in the same way that some of the sexual practices you enjoy so much are wrong.