Oh hell, might as well go whole hog. I decided a while back that I'd try making some authentic Margaritas this summer, lots of them, and so far they've been a big hit. Everyone seems to love them, once they get past the "Don't you need a blender?" mindset. It's remarkable to me how much the frozen Margarita has so thoroughly implanted itself in the mainstream consciousness, including mine own up until this point. And with that, a little history.

I lived in Houston, Texas for two years, from the summer of 1998 to the summer of 2000. Ludicrous heat, remarkably vast expanses of desert between the big cities, and wonderful dining opportunities on the whole. And one item that thoroughly permeates the food and drink culture down there is the Margarita. The Margarita is the unofficial state drink of Texas, whether it's been formally recognized as such or not. Margaritas are everywhere, in every bar, restaurant, and backyard party. And they almost always come frozen, with salt, and rarely at more than $2 a pop. But given my recent foray into more proper, "classic" cocktail preparation, I was interested in trying the real deal, the three-ingredient original that got this whole thing started.

There's something about the flavor of a classic Margarita that just clicks for me. The two main taste components are the tequila and the lime, and any recipe that claims you can substitute lemon for the lime is not one that should to be in your collection. Lemon does not belong in a Margarita. Yes, I know the Spanish limón can denote both lime and lemon, but I don't care. It's wrong. I'm hardcore about this, people. Make a drink with lemon, tequila, and triple sec, use a salted rim if you want, but don't call it a Margarita, because it's not. Okay? Okay.

Now, the other ingredients. I've come across a lot of Margarita recipes that seem clearly designed to mask the taste of the tequila, going so far as to call for a mere ounce and a half of the beast. These people must be using Cuervo Gold or some other terrible shit, because an ounce and a half just doesn't work in a good Margarita - there's simply too much lime and triple sec to compete with. The tequila should stand up and make itself known - not in an imposing way, but as a clear flavor component in the cocktail. The other major component is, of course, the lime, and this is where you should let your tastebuds guide you. I don't recommend going under 3/4 of an ounce; I use Persian limes, the typical supermarket kind. If you use Key limes (which I plan to hunt down and horde as soon as I find some), do a few taste tests and see what works for you.

And then there's the triple sec, by which I mean Cointreau - I always mean Cointreau. You should only ever use Cointreau, unless you're making a huge bunch of these for a party and don't feel like splurging on an admittedly expensive liqueur, in which case I recommend Marie Brizard's triple sec - cloying and sweet, but the lesser of all the other evils out there. You can also use Grand Marnier if you're feeling flush, but let's draw the line somewhere. Cointreau is your friend. Accept the way of the Cointreau; you'll likely never go back. But keep in mind that the Cointreau in a Margarita should be a mere background component - too much and it'll compete with the lime, turning the drink into a citrus overload. So this is where I add a dash of simple syrup, to further tone down the lime without resorting to more Cointreau. Around half an ounce of syrup works for me, but it depends on how tart your limes are.

If this all sounds terribly anal retentive and pedantic, it is. Other people get worked up about the proper components and proportions of a classic Martini - I get het up when my Margarita doesn't taste right. It really is one of those drinks where measurements are crucial. And this is where I urge you to experiment - try the recipe below, and if it doesn't work, adjust. One of my biggest apprehensions when I first dove into amateur mixology was deviating from the recipe, afraid that what poured out of my shaker would be a disaster. Don't do this. Get a feel for the drink, become familiar with the ingredients, and keep trying different combinations until you find the one that makes you smack your lips and go, "Aha!"

Margarita
2 oz gold tequila
3/4 oz fresh lime juice
1/2 oz Cointreau
1/2 oz simple syrup, or to taste

Shake well with ice and strain into a chilled, salt-rimmed cocktail glass, or into a salt-rimmed rocks glass with a few cubes. (I rim half the glass in case the drinker doesn't like salt.)



Es bueno. Es muy bueno.

[Edit on 6/6/2008: I know I said that lemons don't belong in a proper Margarita, and I stick by that. But if you ever find yourself with a serious Margarita hankering and no limes to be found in your kitchen, but plenty of about-to-go-off lemons in the fridge, substitute a full ounce of lemon juice for the 3/4 ounce of the lime. You'll end up with something that falls a tad short of true Margarita greatness, but satisfies much of the same urges.]

This entry was posted by Darryl, on Wednesday, June 13, 2007. You can leave your response.