From Lime To Legend

Day 52/366 days of writing pieces in 2024.

Yesterday was National Margarita Day, a day to celebrate the zesty, tangy, and oh-so-refreshing concoction that we all love. When I had a much-needed break between clients, my colleague and I decided to escape to grab a delectable lunch paired with a tantalizing margarita. As we sat at the bar, sipping on our liquid sunshine, it triggered a hilarious flashback to my youthful days as a fledgling bartender.

Oh, the memories! I was just 18 years old when I landed my first gig slinging drinks. Our bar boasted one of those retro blenders, a shiny silver contraption straight out of a quirky '80s movie.

The drink that haunted me was none other than the elusive frozen margarita. It was a fiendishly tricky concoction that left me feeling utterly insecure. I just couldn't nail the perfect consistency! I'd either end up with a polar ice cap in a glass devoid of flavor or a sad, drippy mess that resembled a melted popsicle.

Whenever a frozen margarita was ordered – especially during the chaotic rush – I'd be thrust into a comical frenzy. I'd pray to the margarita gods that the order wouldn't come, but alas, it always did. The struggle was real. And it happened a lot. Many times, my margarita creations were unceremoniously sent back by disgruntled patrons. Honestly, if I had been served one of my own concoctions, I would have probably sent it back too! Those early margaritas were truly a disaster. – and in the worst possible way.

For a long time, I suffered from what I can only describe as margarita PTSD. The mere mention of a frozen margarita would send me spiraling into a whirlwind of panic. It was a unique blend of fight or flight response triggered only by that dastardly blender and its frosty creations. On the rocks or straight up? No problem. But frozen margaritas? Let's just say they were my kryptonite in the world of bartending escapades. Those early years behind the bar were sometimes a bitch.

I spent three years working at that bar, hoping it would get better, but it never did. However, my luck changed when I got a job at the next bar, which had an Island Oasis Machine.

This machine was a game-changer - foolproof and easy to use. With clearly marked lines for measurements and the perfect amount of ice dispensed every time, it made my job so much easier. It was like a gift, making the whole process almost effortless. Working at this bar, I finally felt like I was in my element making a seamless frozen margarita. But because the machine was doing it for me, had I really mastered it? False confidence.

It was at the third bar I worked at, a Mexican restaurant that I truly found my margarita making genius kick in. It was as if the heavens had blessed me with the opportunity to hone my craft. By this point, I had been making margaritas for four years, and this bar took it to the next level, especially my first year. With 22 different types of tequila and a variety of margaritas on the menu, I was pushed to excel like never before. There was no room for error, and I had to rise to the challenge. It was here that I truly mastered the art of margarita-making, and I will always be grateful for the experience. The fear and ptsd dissolved during my three years here.

I remember the moment I realized I had arrived. One of the servers came to the bar with a margarita that was being returned. I had not made it because I wasn’t on service bar that night. My fellow bartender (a newbie was) The server motioned for me to come over. She said, Hey, my table didn’t like their margarita. They said they want you to make it because yours is the best in the city.” She glared over at the new bartender with pity because it was his margarita that had been returned. A smile came over my face. I laughed inside. I was 23 years old. It only took 5 years for me to finally master making this cocktail. Finally. “The best in the city”.

And in that moment, as I stood there, a sense of fulfillment washed over me. The years of dedication, hard work, and passion had led me to this point. Being acknowledged as the best in the city was not just a title; it was a testament to my commitment to excellence. It was a reminder that perseverance and skill can truly set you apart. This was not just a cocktail; it was a symbol of my journey, my growth, and my triumph in the world of mixology. From that point on anytime I was training a new bartender that wasn’t getting a drink right (there’s a lot to learn, especially when you start really getting into mixology) I always would tell them it took me 5 years before I really made an exceptional margarita. Mastery of anything takes time.

I remember one night many years later when I was about 40 years old and by then I was designing beverage menus and working at a 16 star Forbes rated property that had been written up in Robb Report. A patron motioned me over and said,”I’ve been making gimlets for probably longer than you’ve been alive and mine doesn’t taste anywhere near as good as this. How did you do this?”

But that’s another cocktail and a different story. Maybe I’ll share my secrets on Christmas. Because that’s National Gimlet Day.