A love letter to the margarita

close up of margarita glass with a blue salted rim

This is not the margarita that made me fall in love, but let's pretend it was.

Honest to goodness.

At twenty-something years old, I knew nothing of lime's honest brightness, only the neon lies of dive-y Portland bars— those jolly rancher green imposters that burned like regret.

Then I found myself in Mark's kitchen, on a random Tuesday night in August, his strong hands working magic: fresh limes surrendering their juices, 100% agave silver tequila falling like liquid mercury from the bottle, black lava salt kissed onto glass rims like a benediction.

"Here you go."

One sip and the world shifted. I may have fallen in love in that moment.

He does have a way of turning food into art, poetry, living color. In this case, a cocktail. Smooth, stinging, singing, swinging, each element in perfect harmony. 

I held onto that glass like a prayer.

Now a little older, my kitchen is stocked with decent tequila, I can pick out perfectly juicy limes and the festive margarita glasses are close at hand. When friends and family gather, Mark still makes them a drink with the same tender devotion. 

And still, after two, I text old lovers declarations of forgiveness, call my sister to recite the lyrics to Since U Been Gone like a love poem and generally do things I shouldn't. 

The heart, it seems, remains twenty-something when touched by lime and time and the memory of that first honest-to-goodness margarita.

 

 

Kaitlin's Margarita Rules:

  • Always on the rocks, never blended.
  • The glass itself must have personality, either sophisticated or endearingly tacky.
  • Yes, I want salt on the rim.
  • It has to be salted with one of three choices. Nothing else will do:
  • No, I do not want another for the aforementioned reasons (I mean, I do, but...)

 

Did you know?

The first margarita cocktail recipe was published in December 1953 for Esquire magazine's "Drink of the Month" with this recipe:

1 ounce tequila 

Dash of triple sec 

Juice of 1⁄2 lime or lemon 

Pour over crushed ice, stir. Rub the rim of a stem glass with rind of lemon or lime, spin in salt—pour, and sip.

 

Ciao/Au Revoir/Adios for now,

-Kaitlin

PS. I made this margarita playlist just for you.

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