When I die, I’m not sure what I’ll be remembered for except my margaritas. Sure, there will be those who say nice things about me and, of course, my son will think loving thoughts after my demise, but years later there is no question in my mind that it will be my margaritas they miss. They’re cool and frosty with a hidden kick. They stay smooth and yummy and are always the hit of any party. My margarita recipe is probably the single most important thing I learned in college. It was handed down to me by a Chi Omega from San Diego.
My margaritas have gotten me dates, gossip, invitations, a possible job promotion and there was one marriage proposal from a Canadian Naval Helicopter pilot, Alan – we were in Hawaii - but I digress. One time they got me in trouble. Henry and I were going to stay with my friend, Jennifer, at her parents’ gorgeous log cabin on a lake in Wisconsin. A cabin straight out of Architectural Digest – really, the issue was on the coffee table. Anyway, we got there and Jennifer started telling her extremely successful, high-powered, competitive father how great my margaritas are. What I didn’t know was her father fancied himself quite a margarita expert, complete with his own recipe. Jennifer suggested a taste test, a little friendly competition. I knew immediately this was going to end badly. I never lose. Never. And I didn’t. It isn’t polite to beat your host in a competition ten seconds after you arrive; it’s considered bad form. The next few days didn’t go well and we’ve never been invited back.
People ask me all the time if my recipe is a secret. No. I painted my recipe on a tile and made it part of a counter in my old home – I left it there for the new owners. I’ve always planned to put my recipe on my tombstone. It’s either that or be buried next to my mother and have an arrow pointing to her grave with the words “I’m with her.” I think if I choose the recipe I’ll be giving back something to society. People who go to cemeteries are as a rule unhappy so, if I can lift their spirits, I’ll have accomplished something.
Today is Cinco de Mayo, a holiday not really celebrated much in Mexico but it’s the best excuse for a frosty pitcher I can think of. Actually, Tom and I love a spontaneous pitcher of margies just about any old time. Have pitcher will travel.
3/4 cup tequila
1/4 cup triple sec
1/4 can frozen lemonade
1/4 can frozen limeade
and the essential ingredient – 1Tablespoon lemon yogurt.
People are usually appalled at the idea of drinking margaritas with yogurt in them. I get reactions much like Madge and Palmolive “You’re soaking in it.” But the truth is the lemon yogurt is the key. It binds the ingredients together and keeps them from separating. If you leave out the yogurt you’re not drinking my margaritas.
Add all the ingredients together and then add a lot of ice and blend, blend, blend and blend. People do not blend enough. You cannot over blend.
Salt the rim and - fiesta. -