The Omni Parker House named its retro-themed bar after the Edwin O’Connor book fictionalizing Boston politics, and true to form, drinks like the Politico fill the cocktail menu. But a lot of this is just gimmick as most of the specialty cocktails are nontraditional fruity vodka drinks – and even the intriguing Dickens Punch (”gin-based fizzy punch that Charles Dickens drank when he stayed here”) turned out upon further inquiry to be simply Pimm’s Cup.

But I was in the mood for a Plymouth martini, and Last Hurrah was able to deliver credibly. I asked for it not too dry, and got a decent balance of gin and vermouth. My only gripe was the oversized glasses combined with the mini shakers left at the table with the extra, if watered down, cocktail remaining inside. I know a lot of customers like this touch and feel they’re getting something a little extra. Me, I’d be happy with a smaller, well-chilled cocktail at a couple bucks less.

But perhaps the real draw is just that Last Hurrah is a nice, downtown bar that’s not overrun with a scene. On a quiet, rainy Friday night, sometimes nothing’s better.

The Last Hurrah is located inside the Omni Parker Hotel, at the corner of Tremont and School Streets.

Ian, a former bartender, leaves in the comments an interesting and well-reasoned case for including frou-frou concoctions in the “martini” category. His argument is that highballs are a category of drink based on the type of glass, so we should be willing to consider things in a martini glass to be a martini.

I’d put the etymological emphasis elsewhere. On one hand, the highball has come to be a whiskey and ginger ale, but from what I gather it was originally scotch and soda. So it’s been a fairly generic term for a while – and while we classify screwdrivers and vodka-tonics as highballs, people don’t usually order them that way. On the other hand, even the Pop Rocks martini at Match (the place T-Rage so expertly reviewed) references the very drink it’s supplanting. The martini (originally the “martini cocktail”) derives from Martini & Rossi vermouth. Earlier versions may well have been sweeter than the idealized dry martini we have in our heads today. But they, too, had vermouth as a component.

Certainly, it’s a purist stance. I should probably have Ian’s understanding and live-let-live attitude. But I don’t. Especially when I read stuff like this:

You may not notice the narrow Charlesmark Hotel façade as you walk down Boylston Street, but it’s most certainly worth stopping for. In fact, the tiramisu martini alone merits a drop-in. A brilliant concoction of vanilla vodka, Baileys, amaretto, sugar, spice, and everything nice, this drink eats like a meal — a delicious pastry-like meal. The Key-lime martini tastes like liquefied pie (in a good and alcoholic way, of course)

I’ve been to the Charlesmark Lounge (655 Boylson St., near Copley) and liked it as a bar. It was an undiscovered little spot on the edge of Back Bay (let’s see how long that lasts), with a nice slender layout. The service was subpar, but sometimes even that’s OK, especially since the bartender was capable enough with the vodka martinis and cosmos. But tiramisu? Key lime pie? If I want these desserts – I often do – I’ll eat tiramisu or key lime pie. There’s such a wonderful world of spirits out there, I don’t see the point of bothering with ersatz food.

Meanwhile, this weekend I visited Encore Lounge (275 Tremont Street, next to the Roxy) which is the antidote to Trendy Bar Syndrome. For starters, it’s a cabaret bar, and on open-mic nights patrons belt out show tunes and songbook favorites to piano accompaniment. The clientele, unsurprisingly, leans heavily gay and older, though on Saturday night there really was a cross section of people, women and men, straight and gay, young and old. The ethos is pure hotel bar: round black-lacquer tables, votive candles, dim lighting. Sure, it looked and felt like a Billy Joel video, but I was into it as a refreshing change. I’m not even a showtunes or cabaret fan, but the fun people were having was infectious.

Service was attentive, but the bartending was more miss than hit. My friends ordering mixed drinks complained of watering-down and ended up resorting to the drastic measure of taking their next vodka neat. The server confided that one should order manhattans from him, since the bartender didn’t know how to make a good one and he did. It was all right, but I’ve had plenty better. One cosmo arrived without the cranberry juice (!); instead of taking it back to remake it, the server brought out a plastic shot of cranberry juice to add in. Granted it was a busy Saturday night for the staff. But if they’re charging Theatre District prices (11 bucks a cocktail), one expects better.

By the way, if you make it to Encore take a minute to peek into the Marriott lobby. It’s grandeur of the sort you just don’t see much these days.