I am a strict judge of margaritas.
I can not avoid. I tried the quick and idiosyncratic frozen version in the venerable Spanish Village in Almeda in the 1970s; and then I learned to shake myself on the elbow of Diana Kennedy, the great lady of Mexican cuisine, when I visited her ranch at the top of the hill to write a profile in the 1980s. (She hated it, but that’s another story.)
Kennedy’s formula was purist. She used Herradura silver tequila, which became my home brand. Her proportions, as I recall, were 2 parts of tequila to one part of freshly squeezed lemon juice – with the pulp, if you like – to a part of Triple Sec, beaten with ice and strained. You embroidered the glass with sliced lemon, dipped it in salt and there you were.
I still do mine like that, although I have increased the lemon juice quotient a little over the years, as I like my cocktails in the pie instead of the sweet side. I still remember my first visit to the iconic Kentucky Club in Ciudad Juarez, where the homemade margarita further consolidated my particular tastes.
The versions of margarita with simple added syrup that took on the genre leave me cold – I think Triple Sec or any other orange liqueur you use adds a lot of sweetness – and I step back from many of the modern frozen round fruit confections) on offer throughout this great city of ours.
So, as I said, I am a tough and idiosyncratic judge of form. Take everything I say on the subject with enough salt.
Nor am I a fan of This or That Foodstuff’s national non-other-one days that plague the digital space in these difficult times. They are Frankensteins focused on public relations, as far as I am concerned. The advent of National Margarita Day each year (it is today, as you will be reminded countless times, including here) fills me with silent dread.
I know that I will see a lot of bullshit about many mediocre margaritas. But I am determined to offer a barbaric cry of challenge in defense of the quality margaritas that I venerate in the city – the ones I return to year after year and, in some cases, decade after decade.
Perhaps you admire them. Maybe you take my name in vain, and that’s okay too. But here’s my Houston Margarita honor roll, which spans five decades and counting.
1. O Perfeito at Arnaldo Richard’s Picos Restaurant. I told you before, I will say it again: this grandpa of Houston’s shaker margaritas, served straight in a suitable martini glass Nick and Nora, wrote the book on quality here. I don’t even need to ask bartenders to increase this or that: the formula is classic and uplifting. Not to mention that there is always something left in the shaker as a stalker.
2. Frozen margarita in the Spanish Village. This is a niche passion of mine, sour and wildly individualistic with its thin pieces of frozen lemon juice paper delivering texture plus. Forget all the sweet and droplets of margarita you’ve already been sealed with: it flies right in your face.
3. Oaxacan Rita de Hugo, Xochi and Caracol. I love how the smoky and multidimensional Mezcal, the agave-based cousin of tequila, works on a margarita. And I love how the qualified bartenders at Hugo Ortega’s various restaurants respond to my personal needs, such as “hold the syrup simple”, so the lemon leap from the finished cocktail still makes my heart skip a beat.
4. Saltillo Mexican Kitchen shaker margarita. This comfortable and elegant northern outpost in Bellaire illustrates why, when it comes to margaritas, it’s worth knowing your bartender. The courteous Lázaro Villalobos increases the lemon juice at my request, uses a 100% serious agave tequila and never lets me down.
5. Vanessa Lomeli’s Dragonfruit frozen margarita at her next restaurant 915. Yes, I know what I said about frozen margaritas with slices of fruit. Lomeli’s versions are different: based on real three-dimensional fruits placed to order in the blender, not the saccharin product, artificial syrups. I first fell in love with her garnet red Dragonfruit Margarita at her old outpost on the Gulf Freeway, and I’m looking forward to taking it again when she opens her El Paso-influenced spot on White Oak Boulevard in Heights this month.