It’s late. The lights are low. The bar hums with weekend chatter. You glance at the drink menu, already knowing what you’ll order. It’s not just a cocktail. It’s the cocktail of the moment—the espresso martini. And when it arrives, frothy and elegant in its V-shaped glass, you’ll likely notice something curious floating on top. Three small coffee beans. Neatly placed, always the same. Never one. Never five. Just three.
To the uninitiated, this may seem like a stylistic flourish, a visual choice made by bartenders for the sake of Instagram or tradition. But the presence of those three beans is anything but random. The espresso martini is a drink with a backstory, and those beans are more than decoration. They’re a ritual. A superstition. A quiet nod to history, culture, and even a bit of magic.
The story of the espresso martini begins not in Italy, as one might assume given its starring ingredient, but in London in the 1980s. At the Soho Brasserie, a young model reportedly walked up to the bar and made a very specific request. She wanted a drink that would “wake her up and f*** her up.” Behind the bar was Dick Bradsell, a bartender with a flair for invention and a brand-new espresso machine within arm’s reach. He grabbed the essentials: fresh espresso, vodka, and coffee liqueur. He shook them with ice, poured the drink into a rocks glass, and handed over the very first version of what he called the “Vodka Espresso.”
The name would evolve. So would the glassware. As the 1990s ushered in the martini craze—an era of appletinis, lycheetinis, and chocolate martinis—Bradsell refined his concoction to fit the new style. Gone was the rocks glass. In came the sleek stemmed martini glass. The drink was reborn as the espresso martini, and it has remained a staple of cocktail culture ever since. But the garnish? That’s where things got symbolic.
In Italy, there is a longstanding tradition tied to Sambuca, the strong, anise-flavored liqueur often served after meals. A glass of Sambuca, when served neat, is typically accompanied by three floating coffee beans. These beans are not edible embellishments; they are a wish. Each bean represents something—health, wealth, and happiness. Together, they signify a toast to good fortune. The tradition likely has roots in Catholic symbolism—the number three often linked to the Holy Trinity—but its cultural power has outlasted its theological origins.
According to Bradsell’s daughter, Bea Bradsell, it was this very Italian custom that her father borrowed when deciding how to complete his now-iconic drink. The espresso martini, already indulgent and stylish, gained a final flourish that gave it not only visual appeal but symbolic weight. What had once been a practical solution to a customer’s caffeine-and-alcohol request became something more—a modern ritual rooted in centuries-old superstition.
Today, the espresso martini has taken on a life of its own. It has seen resurgence after resurgence, proving immune to the typical life cycle of cocktail trends. While drinks like the Aperol spritz, negroni sbagliato, and dirty Shirley come and go, the espresso martini remains a mainstay. It’s both dessert and pick-me-up. A drinkable contradiction. And, importantly, a visual icon.
What makes the espresso martini so enduring? Part of it is its flavor. The combination of bitter espresso and sweet liqueur strikes a balance that feels indulgent without being overpowering. The caffeine makes it a popular choice for late dinners or second rounds. And its presentation—frothy top, deep brown color, three perfectly placed beans—photographs beautifully. In an age where every cocktail is evaluated not only by taste but by how well it performs on social media, the espresso martini delivers on both fronts.
But beyond aesthetics, the drink offers something else: a sense of ritual. Whether you're ordering one in a swanky hotel bar, a cozy speakeasy, or your local gastropub, you expect it to look a certain way. That familiarity is part of the appeal. It’s comforting to know that no matter where you are, your drink will arrive with the same three-bean garnish, a tiny toast to good fortune floating just beneath the foam.
Bartenders, too, understand this ritual. Some insist that the three beans are non-negotiable. Others have fun with the tradition, riffing on the base ingredients or embellishing the garnish. There are espresso martinis with chocolate syrup drizzles, whipped cream crowns, or flavored vodkas that nod to everything from vanilla to pistachio. And yet, more often than not, those three coffee beans remain.
What’s fascinating about the three-bean rule is how little most people know about it. Ask the average drinker why there are three beans on their espresso martini, and you’ll likely get a shrug. “That’s just how it’s served.” But dig deeper and you’ll find that even unspoken rituals hold meaning. They persist because they resonate—because they make the ordinary feel a little more sacred.
In that way, the espresso martini isn’t just a cocktail. It’s a micro-ceremony. A moment of pause between the chaos of the night and the comfort of caffeine and alcohol colliding. The drink itself is layered with contradictions. It’s a stimulant and a depressant. A throwback and a trend. A bar staple and a showstopper. And floating above it all are those three little symbols, whispering promises of health, wealth, and happiness to anyone willing to believe—even for a moment.
Of course, not everyone drinks their espresso martini with reverence. For many, it’s just a tasty drink that happens to look nice. But even then, the ritual holds. People may not know why they expect three beans, but they notice when they’re missing. That, in itself, is the power of tradition. It becomes muscle memory. Aesthetic becomes expectation. And expectation becomes cultural norm.
Interestingly, this isn’t the only cocktail with a garnish that carries symbolic weight. The olive in a martini is famously customizable—some prefer one, others two, and some go for the drama of a skewer full. But ask around, and you’ll find that even martini drinkers have opinions about numbers. One is classic. Two is balanced. Three? Too much. With the espresso martini, however, three is not excess. It’s precision.
There’s also something quietly beautiful about the garnish being coffee beans. Unlike citrus twists or maraschino cherries, the beans aren’t meant to be consumed. They aren’t functional. They don’t infuse the drink with flavor. They simply float. Present, symbolic, untouchable. You can chew them if you want, but most people don’t. They let them sink, like wishes dropped into a well.
In an era where food and drink are increasingly deconstructed, analyzed, and reimagined, it’s comforting to know that some traditions persist simply because they feel good. The espresso martini, with its triple-bean crown, doesn’t need to justify itself. It just needs to arrive, elegant and caffeinated, reminding us that a drink can be more than a drink. It can be a little ritual. A tiny spell. A toast in three words.
Health. Wealth. Happiness.
And maybe—just maybe—a good night out.
So the next time you raise your glass and see those three beans smiling back at you, don’t brush it off as bar flair. Acknowledge the quiet intention. The story carried through decades. The borrowed superstition that now belongs to you, for the length of a cocktail and the mood it creates.
Even if you’re not the superstitious type. Even if you don’t believe that three beans floating on a caffeinated cocktail can influence your fate. There’s still something grounding about it. Something soft and human. We don’t always need logic to make a moment matter.
Sometimes all it takes is three beans and a sip.
WhatsApp
Instagram
Threads
