Some people call it training wheels, some call it a waste of good tequila, I’m going out on a limb to say most people experience tequila for the first time with a couple of aids; lemon, salt and perhaps a little bit of a death wish.
It remains the fastest way to strip your taste buds and render taste as much absent as useless altogether. I have heard many tales of its non-Mexican origins, and it certainly seems to fit amongst such tastebud slamming 80’s creations as the kamikaze.
It was with more than a little surprise I read David Embury’s couple of paragraphs talking of a Mexican friend heading up across the border during Prohibition with a bottle, concealed presumably. He performs the Mexican Itch, a lick of salt, a squeeze of lemon on the tongue and a wash of tequila to follow it down.
Is this much derided ritual a hangover from the cheaply distilled and foul smelling mixtos? While I sit here sipping on an extra anejo, a ritual to eliminate the flavour seems very out of place. Embury obviously felt differently, and outlined his views in a very clear manner.
I’d like to think if he was here and now, in this renaissance of the distilled spirit we are entering, he’d be willing to at least hit a few bottles and maybe reconsider.
I’ll let you know if I find out something else.