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The Federal Reserve will continue its program of purchasing $85 billion in securities and will leave the target interest rate for federal funds untouched to support the U.S. economy, the U.S. central bank said in a policy update issued Wednesday afternoon.

Here's a summary of the state of the U.S. economy from the Fed, which concluded two days of meetings today:

"Information received since the Federal Open Market Committee met in May suggests that economic activity has been expanding at a moderate pace. Labor market conditions have shown further improvement in recent months, on balance, but the unemployment rate remains elevated. Household spending and business fixed investment advanced, and the housing sector has strengthened further, but fiscal policy is restraining economic growth."

There's no cocktail more distinctly American than the martini. It's strong, sophisticated and sexy. It's everything we hope to project while ordering one.

Baltimore-born satirist H.L. Mencken is said to have called the martini "the only American invention as perfect as the sonnet." But is the martini perfectly American? Maybe not entirely.

So in honor of National Martini Day on Wednesday, we decided to dig into the drink's muddled past.

The history of the martini is a murky one. As is the case with many alcoholic concoctions through time, things weren't always written down, and memories got fuzzy from drinking a few of them.

Many historians follow the martini back to a miner who struck gold in California during the Gold Rush. The story goes that a miner walked into a bar and asked for a special drink to celebrate his new fortune. The bartender threw together what he had on hand — fortified wine (vermouth) and gin, and a few other goodies — and called it a Martinez, after the town in which the bar was located.

The Martinez was a hit, according to the city of Martinez's official website, and word soon spread about the new drink. It was published in the Bartender's Manual in the 1880s.

And yet, author Barnaby Conrad III, who wrote a book on the drink's history, asserts that San Francisco is the martini's true birthplace. Then there's the claim that a New York bartender created it in 1911.

And wait, there's more: An Italian vermouth maker started marketing its product under the brand name Martini in 1863.

"Personally ... I think the martini may have gotten its name because of Martini & Rossi vermouth," says Robert Hess, secretary of the Museum of the American Cocktail in New York. "A customer asks for a 'Martini' cocktail because it utilized that product, much as they might ask for a 'sherry' cocktail in those days if they wanted a cocktail which used sherry. During the 1800s, many drinks were named very simply (gin cocktail, fancy gin cocktail, gin cobbler, gin daisy, etc.)," Hess tells us via email.

Over the years, the drink's fame has grown, as its ingredients (Butterscotch? Seriously?), the ratio of spirits to vermouth, and even its name changed (try saying Martinez three times fast). And there are people who prefer drier versions of a martini, vodka instead of gin, and shaken instead of stirred.

But where does that all-important olive garnish come in?

Nobody knows for sure, but our far-flung correspondent Deborah Amos may have a lead.

Last year, she tells The Salt, she was interviewing a Dr. Ammar Martini, a member of the Syrian Red Crescent, at a Syrian rehab hospital on the Turkish border.

"As we were chatting, I said, 'Hmmm, Martini, that's an unusual Arab name, no?' And he said, 'There are a lot of Martinis in northern Syria. In fact, my grandfather gave the name to a famous drink in the West,' " Amos recalls.

And how did that happen? she asked. Martini said that after the French left Syria (they occupied it from 1920-1946), his grandfather went to Paris and ran a bar and a caf.

"His contribution to the famous drink, according to his grandson, was to put an olive in the glass — and he did so because Idlib province in Syria [where he was from] is famous for olives — and so the drink was called Martini after its Syrian inventor," she tells us.

While it's a great story, "unfortunately, this particular one doesn't hold up when you realize that the martini cocktail existed pre-1900," Hess says.

It seems that everyone wants to take credit for this famous cocktail.

The House has passed one of the most far-reaching abortion bills in decades. But it's unlikely to ever become law.

By a mostly party-line vote Tuesday of 228-196, lawmakers passed the "Pain-Capable Unborn Child Protection Act," which would ban nearly all abortions starting 20 weeks after fertilization.

"At 20 weeks maybe sooner, the baby feels pain," said physician and Rep. John Fleming, R-La., on the House floor. "And so I would just submit to you today Mr. Speaker; this bill is not just about abortion; it's about pain, it's about torture to that young life."

The contention that fetuses can feel pain starting at 20 weeks is hotly disputed. But it's been used as a justification to pass similar bills in multiple states over the past several years.

Bringing the federal bill to the House floor now was meant to capitalize on the publicity surrounding last month's murder convictions of Philadelphia abortion doctor Kermit Gosnell, according to House Speaker John Boehner.

"After this Kermit Gosnell trial and some of the horrific acts that were going on, a vast majority of the American people believe in the substance of this bill and so do I," Boehner said at his weekly news conference.

Democrats, however, say there's one huge and glaring problem with the bill: It's unconstitutional.

"The bill bans abortions prior to 20 weeks," said Democratic Rep. Jerrold Nadler of New York, ranking member of the Constitution Subcommittee of the House Judiciary Committee. "Since Roe v. Wade, it has been well-settled law that no bill is constitutional that bans abortions before viability, which is later than that."

Most experts agree that viability begins somewhere around 23 weeks, depending on how you count.

But Democrats use the abortion-ban bill to make a larger point, as well: that Republicans are continuing this year where they left off last year, attacking the rights of women.

"This bill is extreme, an unprecedented reach into women's lives, and a clear indication that the well-being of women in this country is not something that Republicans care to protect," said Florida Democrat Debbie Wasserman Schultz, who is also the chairwoman of the Democratic National Committee.

And Republicans, perhaps inadvertently, played into Democrats' hands.

During committee consideration of the abortion ban last week, the bill's sponsor, Arizona Republican Trent Franks, tried to fend off an amendment that would have provided an exception for victims of rape or incest.

In arguing against the exception, he said, "You know, the incidence of rape resulting in pregnancy is very low."

Franks later said he was trying to say that most women who get pregnant as a result of rape have abortions well before they are six months pregnant. But the PR damage was done.

Republican leaders late last week decided not to let Franks manage his own bill on the floor. Instead, they turned to Tennessee Republican Rep. Marsha Blackburn, a longtime anti-abortion voice. They also added exceptions to the bill for rape and incest.

But Democrats were outraged at the choice of Blackburn to handle the bill, because she's not even a member of the Judiciary Committee that considered it.

"And if that is not PR, I don't know what is," said Rep. Louise Slaughter, D-N.Y., co-chairwoman of the House Pro-Choice Caucus. "And if that is not simply trying to fool you, I don't know what else that is."

On the other hand, Republican leaders couldn't have chosen a woman from the Judiciary Committee, because the Republicans on the panel are all male.

Still, the entire effort was likely all for show. The Senate is not expected to take up the bill. And President Obama issued a veto threat against it on Monday.

Another interview with a key IRS employee, another oblique connection to Washington, D.C., and yet still no explosive revelations in the scandal surrounding the agency's targeting of Tea Party groups.

That, it seems, was precisely the point of Rep. Elijah Cummings' decision to release 205 pages of redacted interview transcripts Tuesday (here and here).

Although the name of the "screening group" manager was blacked out, NPR has confirmed it is John Shafer, a longtime IRS employee who supervised workers doing initial screenings of applications for tax-exempt status in the Cincinnati field office.

"I believe releasing this transcript serves the best interest of Congress and the American people by ensuring that there is an accurate and fair picture of the management challenges facing the IRS and that recommendations for legislative reform are appropriately crafted to address the specific problems identified as a result of our oversight efforts," said Cummings, the ranking member on the House Oversight Committee, in a letter to Rep. Darrell Issa, the committee's chairman.

Issa, a California Republican, shot back with a statement saying the release of this transcript could potentially harm the committee's investigation.

"I am deeply disappointed that Ranking Member Cummings has decided to broadly disseminate and post online a 205 page transcript that will serve as a roadmap for IRS officials to navigate investigative interviews with Congress," said Issa.

What's so special about Shafer's interview?

Cummings says it "debunks conspiracy theories about how the IRS first started reviewing these cases."

For the Maryland Democrat, it certainly can't hurt that Shafer describes himself as a "conservative Republican," and also says the elevating of Tea Party cases for further review started with him, rather than someone higher up the chain.

But much like transcripts of other interviews viewed by NPR, this lengthy interview reveals just a tiny piece of the ongoing investigation.