You must have known by now that not all margueritas are created equally.
There are margueritas, and then there is THE marguerita.
Jamie, the front counter host/tender asked if I wanted a "House Marguerita." And like most great stories, this one began with an innocuous opening.
She poured. She crushed. She mixed. She shook. She twirled. She limed. She salted. And then she presented THE marguerita to me. The "House Marguerita."
Unassuming in its initial presentation. Cold to the touch. Salt around the rim. And a slice of lime perched arrogantly on top. Daring. Inviting.
I took my first sip.
To be clear: I did pretaste it with a light introduction of the sweetwsoureness of the lime.
Adding the salt.
Then the coldness of the drink. The thickness of the glass. The decadence of history, of casualness, of invitation. The Tequila.
And the taste took my soul away.
Tangy, salty, and a touch of bitterness. And the comforting aftertaste of sweetness. Lingering. Touching. Reminding. Remembering.
Almost as a promise. And an invitation.
I shall be back.