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The Margarita may just be the most curious of the super-popular cocktails (and by “super-popular” I mean being ordered by a massively large number of people as I type). The curiosity stems both from its history, which I’ll talk more about in a second, and from the fact that people seem to be okay about 78% of the time with drinking a really awfully made mix that somebody who doesn’t know better calls a Margarita. This is a shame, because in my mind a well-made Margarita is one of the most delicious summer concoctions: citrus tang, subtle sweetness, chill, and a kick that can take you into a summertime state of mind, relaxed and happy, by the end of the first drink.
The problem probably stems out of the popularity mentioned above. At a certain tipping point, the Margarita went from seen-here-and-there to seen-everywhere, and that led to cost-conscious entrepreneurs (or just wicked people) using pre-mixed dreck and forgetting about the joys of fresh juice and generally serving a drink that was a Margarita in name only. Luckily, you can help buck any continuance of that trend by following the below recipe when serving Margaritas at your summer fiestas.
Just don’t forget to pick a story to tell while serving. Or multiple stories, which is what I like, because drinks with stories somehow taste better to me--or at least start off those cocktail party conversations that can go on for many enjoyable hours. The history of the Margarita has three possible branches (there may even be more I don’t know of, but these are the three I go with when telling tequila tales). The first, and probably most mentioned theory centers around a wealthy Texas lady, one Margarita Sames, who threw some serious wing-dings and may have invented the Margarita during one, or a series, of them. Or invented it at a Christmas party. Our second contender is professional bartender Danny Negrete, who may have created it and named it for his lady friend Marjorie when tending bar in sunny California. The third option (and perhaps my favorite, due to its own mysteriously working class nature) has a nameless bartender in Mexico serving up Margaritas way back in the 1930s at a local tavern, where a local vacationeer had one, loved it, and brought the recipe north.
Whichever story you go with when you serve your Margaritas, remember a few key points. First, use a reputable tequila Blanco, or white tequila. Lately, I’ve been using Casa Noble, an all-organic, triple-distilled tequila sent to me, and have been loving it. Smooth but still boasting lots of taste. Second, stay far away from those low-end generic triple secs, especially those with no alcohol content. Really, use Cointreau, Grand Marnier, Gran Gala, or another solid orange-based number and you’ll feel better for it (and your Margarita will taste better for it). Third, never, ever, use un-freshly-squeezed lime juice. Ever. I also stay away from any salted rim (because I like my Margaritas to taste like Margaritas, not salt), but give instructions for that in the Note below in case you’re feeling salt-deficient.
Ice cubes
2 ounces white tequila
1 ounce Cointreau (or a reputable triple sec)
1/2 ounce freshly squeezed lime juice
Lime slice, for garnish
Coarse kosher salt (if needed)
Lime wedge (if needed)
1. Fill a cocktail shaker half way full with ice cubes. Add the tequila, Cointreau, and lime juice. Shake well.
2. Strain the mix into a cocktail glass. Garnish with the lime slice.
A Note: If you want a salted rim, here’s the skinny: pour a small layer of Kosher salt onto a small plate or saucer. Take a cocktail glass and wet the outside of the rim with a lime wedge. Holding the glass by the stem, rotate the rim through the salt. You want to be sure that salt coats only the outside of the rim. Do the salting before you start the shaking.