What better way to arrive for a dinner built around the wines consumed by James Bond in “Goldfinger” than an Aston Martin.

Photographs by: LUCAS NOONAN

A Bentley may well have been the motor of choice of Fleming’s Eton educated Bond, but Cubby Broccoli’s milkman from Edinburgh began with a preference for Astons. And despite the odd dalliance over the years the DB mark still seems to be the screenshot of choice.

Hence the Aston Martin DB9. Big sister to the sublime Vanquish we cleaned the cobwebs out of in LA not so long ago. And although the DB9 is a little more built for comfort than speed, she’s no slouch. In fact, it would be a crime to suggest so. When you plant your right foot the spitfire-like V12 spools up into life catapulting you up the road with more than enough oomph to relocate your spleen. And like all true GT cars the oomph just keeps coming until you’re so far past the speed limit you may as well just keep going and not look back.

Agile in the same way that a large cat defies inertia, the huge Pirelli boots she wears guarantee she’s glued to the road. It’s all about the journey, not just the destination.

With more horses than Saxon & Parole she seemed the perfect steed to arrive, tuxedo’d up to the max to imbibe and inspire the lucky few with a few tall tales of James Bond like prowess out in the woods of upstate New York.