There’s a famous Latin doctrine ordo ab chao ; out of chaos, comes order. An old motto for Freemasonry, usually used in the context of discussing the general disastrous running of the world, also, I feel, appropriate to describe what is needed for this Margarita critiquing process. To explain, this is now my sixth post and I think it’s about time I implement a solid rating routine for each tequila talisman.
Before you think I’m going all crude on you, I’m not talking a general ‘out of 10’ folks. A cocktail as sultry as the Margarita deserves more than that defaming ambiguity. No. But don’t worry, what we’ll be doing is no where near as sleazy as wine goers objectifying their libation by swirling it around and swooning over it’s legs. We treat our Margarita’s with more integrity than that friends.
So, where to begin? For me, there’s several key areas that need to be addressed when on the receiving end of your God or Goddess:
1) The Glass. Capital G. From previous posts, you may note that on occasions I’ve been left feeling pretty bloody indignant when some 21st century rogue decides to serve me a Margarita in anything other than a triangular glass. It’s like Buzz Lightyear waking up one day and oddly finding himself in squeezed into Kermit the frog. I’m traditional, what can I say. But I’m also not totally square. So if your glass is less geometric, that’s ok, but it’s probably because it’s being served on ice. Psssh.
2) An evenly applied salt-rim. Do I need to say more?
3) Actually, yes I do. Let’s sip back, relax and discuss salt for a moment folks. Now, any fabulous chef will tell you the secret to a successful naughty feast is in the seasoning, get that wrong and your palette is going to sit naked and cry in the corner. And with sea, Kosher, pickling, Himalayan and black salt only scraping the surface of this sodium and chloride combo, the possibilities are endless! So. Think about whether the salt is complimenting your drink or destroying it, there’s such a thing as too salty folks. But don’t worry about your cholesterol, save that for the hangover.
3) How fresh is your lemon? There’s nothing more inhumane than a citrus fruit that’s lost it’s zest. You wouldn’t expect to see Jesus walking on water without his beard. Some things belong.
4) The toddy itself. Traditionally, a Margarita is the majestic blend of 1 1/2 oz tequila, 1/2 ozpremium triple sec, 1 oz lime/lemon juice and sometimes sweet & sour mix. Of course, we live in a modern free pouring world, and we all have our own preferences. Personally, I wouldn’t mind tweaking those measurements so the ratio of tequila to the rest, like, doubled. But anyway. A well-balanced beverage is key, so if you’re indulging in a more flavoursome variety, remember your choice ingredient shouldn’t overpower the tequila itself. That would be silly.
5) The brand of tequila. No need to get sassy folks, but you wouldn’t build your house on Tesco value foundations.
6) Inventiveness. Which brings me to this chappy, a jalapeño Margarita:
Discovered at ‘Casa Bar’ on Soho’s Wardour Street, on the surface of the menu, it sounded frankly dangerous, I was very worried about the burn. But here’s where the territory of inventiveness sings out to the world with baritone vocals, because the holistic effect of this drink was just heart warming. Quite literally, it warmed my heart. All I can say is that after dancing down my oesophagus with a delicate grace, gradually the combination of alcohol and chilli began to feel like a slow burning marriage that was destined to last forever in my mouth. Magical. Go there and buy one folks.
7) I digress. Finally, the overall Margarita experience. Where did you go, who were you with, did you request ‘No Diggity’, did you turn into a kleptomaniac, did you meet someone special, did you OI OI SAVELOY. The drink is only as fabulous as how you feel holding it folks.
So that’s it. My seven-fold order out of Margarita chaos. Actually something that makes perfectly no sense in relation to that Latin phrase, but hey, Latin never made sense anyway.
Margarita & I 