Every six months or so, Barabara Graustark, now editor-at-large for The New York Times, and previously editor of the “Living” sections, takes me out to dinner, to pick my brain for story ideas, and then to steal my signature drink.

Every good alcoholic needs a signature drink, a fallback choice at fine drinking establishments. And every good alcoholic knows the best signature drinks are those whose recipes are duly swiped from fellow hard drinkers. For the past year, mine has been the Sidecar, up, nothing on the rim, according to a recipe stolen from an agent at CAA. Before that, a Grey Goose martini, up, very dirty, courtesy of a Napa vineyard owner. But, of late, those Sidecars have seemed stale, the dirty martinis even further out-of-date.

So it was, while watching Casino Royale, a particular thrill to hear James order what I’d long known to be a real Bond martini: a Vesper Lynd, named after his love interest in that first Ian Flemming novel. In the other Bond films, James had simply ordered his martinis as ‘vodka, shaken, not stirred’. And for good reason, the Vesper Lynd sounding more gasoline substitute than cocktail:

3 parts Gordon’s Gin
1 part vodka
1/2 part Kina Lillet

Still, on a lark, I ordered one up while out in California for Thanksgiving. And again on two subsequent evenings. Then, this afternoon, I stopped by the inimitable Morrell Wine to requisition a bottle of Lillet for my own liquor shelf. Now, once my cold clears (and, let’s be honest, likely before), I’ll be mixing up countless iterations of this remarkably counter-intuitively smooth-drinking beverage.

It seems I’ve found my new signature drink. And, even better, stolen it from the very best.