In the dim, amber-lit corners of Ireland’s cocktail bars, where crystal glasses clink softly against polished wood, a quiet question hangs in the air: Why is there no Tomatini on the menu?
Amidst the haze of juniper, citrus, and the bitter whisper of vermouth, there is something absent. Tomatoes, plump and sun-warmed, ripen in gardens across the land, their skins blushing under the late-summer sun.
And yet, no one thinks to crush one beneath a muddler, to let its juice stain the hands of bartenders already so well-versed in the alchemy of spirits.
The Tomatini—born far from these shores, under the hot desert sun of Dubai—has, in recent years, taken root in distant places. It has crept into the menus of Las Vegas, London, NYC and Sydney, fluttering through social media like a vine stretching towards light. And yet, here in Ireland, where cocktail culture flourishes, the Tomatini remains a stranger.
Why? The ingredients are all here. Creativity and the thirst for innovation already buzzes through every bar. But the Tomatini, for some reason, has not yet found its place.
Words: Shamim De Brún
