My Favorite Spanish Daisy: The Margarita

The summer season has a reputation of being the time when the world seems to slow down and get a little bit lazy. Schools shut down, television goes into reruns, and the hot, humid weather seems to create the effect of slowing people's vibrancy. But nowhere is the sluggishness and lack of care more represented (in my opinion) than in the Margarita.

Now margaritas are somewhat Cointreauve--excuse me, controversial--both in its history and its composition. Many restaurants will offer a variety of tequila-based fruity drinks over crushed ice and call them margaritas. Only recently did I start taking umbrage at that. It is partly based in our society's total ignorance and lack of appreciation for alcohol and fine cocktails. But I also find it somewhat insulting that if I were to order a margarita, I will be presented with a mixture of tequila and syrup most likely laden with high fructose corn syrup. If that's what I wanted, I would get a Slurpee and customize it myself. It would certainly be more cost effective than paying through the nose for it at a Mexican restaurant. The frozen margarita is a complete bastardization of the sophistication of the original drink. As Drinkboy once said, "No, a properly made margarita never sees the inside of a blender."

Which brings me to a tangential point: to those experimenting with different spirits trying to come up with new cocktails, drinks should be simple. Simplicity allows for easier memorization, but mostly it makes it so that the flavors of each spirit do not overtake each other. The beauty of the original margarita is its elegance and the way that it maintains all the qualities of the Mexican style of drinking tequila without making you look like a foolish sot.

The Original Margarita (official IBA recipe):

1. 35 mL Tequila Blanco
2. 20 mL Triple Sec or Cointreau
3. 15 mL Lemon or Lime juice

Run half a lime around the rim of a glass and dip in salt. Shake the tequila, triple sec, and juice over ice and strain into salt-rimmed glass.

After a few months of practice I have gotten to the point where I not only enjoy the Margaritas I make for myself, but I am confident that the Margaritas I make for others will impress them and totally alter their opinions of what a great Margarita should be. In my margaritas, the harshness of the tequila is offset by the slight orange flavor from the Cointreau and the tartness of the lime juice, and the salt balances the sweet fruitiness, and the sum of the flavors linger in your mouth for a few seconds after each sip. Besides which, it's refreshing to boot!

Much like many mysterious elements of our world's history, the true origins of the original Margarita may never be known for sure. Most origin stories revolve around a bartender creating the drink and naming it after a woman somehow related to the management/owner of the particular establishment at which said bartender was employed at the time. With the exception of the names of the bartenders and the bars all of these stories are basically the same.

However, my personal favorite Margarita story says that there was a bartender named John Durlesser working at Tail o' the Cock in Los Angeles and presented it at the All American Cocktail contest in 1949. John and his girlfriend (a Mexican lady named Margarita) were avid hunters. One day out in the fields, Margarita was killed in an accident, and Durlesser created the Margarita to honor her memory, using ingredients intended to incorporate his lady friend's Mexican heritage. I find this to be the most poetic history behind the Margarita, but also was the crux of an especially heart-wrenching episode of the brilliant, slice of life anime, Bartender.



So please, do yourself a favor and the next time you go to a Mexican restaurant and are tempted by what they call a margarita, take a pass. Order a Negro Modelo or a Bohemia instead, wait until you get home and make a real Margarita. You deserve it after drinking so many alcoholic Slurpees.