Tequila Moans and Groans

When it comes to tequila, you either get cheers or jeers. It’s a favorite of some, a nightmare for others, but it’s the only alcohol that has singers relentlessly singing its praises. Carrie Underwood blames not knowing her last name on the Cuervo. Cassidy is home and got the Patron for his drink and his two-step. After ten rounds with Jose Cuervo, Tracy Byrd loses count and starts counting again. The Champs like it so much that in the 1950s they created an instrumental song with the only word sung being "tequila" (for those of you a bit younger, think "The Sandlot," fair scene). Jimmy Buffet wastes away in Margaritaville. And Joe Nichols knows the secret to life for men – tequila makes her clothes fall off.

No matter what they sing, they all recite a universal truth: tequila makes us make bad decisions. If tequila is the drink of the night, we’re going out strong and probably not going to remember it the next day.

With Spring Break looming and sandy surroundings seizing my thoughts, tequila night in bartending class was highly anticipated.

Made from agave pinon, which is still harvested and tended to by hand, tequila considers itself the crème-de-la-crème of alcohol. If there’s a pretty bottle and a pretty package, you can bet there’s a pretty price. Tequila, more aptly a headache in a bottle, is so prestigious, in fact, that there are really only two drinks that tequila can make: a margarita or a tequila sunrise, both perfect for tiki bars somewhere tropical in the Caribbean.

For the heavyweights, however, tequila can be sipped straight or shot, with a lime in one hand and salt on the other. A celebratory chant (“arriba, abajo, al centro, para dentro”) may be in order, but watch out – one shot of tequila is enough to make a person legally drunk.

Mixto tequila, the type used in well drinks, such as Jose Cuervo or Montezuma, is artificially colored to mimic the more expensive, better tasting 100-percent-agave blanco, reposado and anejo types, which have all been aged for at least some time in oak barrels. No matter its age, all tequila comes from in and around the Tequila region of Mexico. Other alcohol made the same way as tequila but from a different region is called Mezcal and includes a signature worm that does nothing but add a fun gimmick.

Whatever the type, tequila gives us liquid courage to make infinite memories or lack there of, so sip on this while I search for my lost shaker of salt.

The Perfect Margarita

1 ¼ oz. of Patron

¾ oz. of Citronge

Sour Mix

Grand Marnier float on top

Margarita salt

Lime

Fill a margarita glass full of ice. Pour both shots over the ice (don’t be afraid of a heavy hand). Fill the rest of the glass with sour mix. Pour drink into a shaker and shake. Rub a lime around the outside of the glass and dip into margarita salt, being sure to only get it on the outside rim of the glass. Return the drink to the margarita glass and pour a little Grand Marnier on top as a float. Squeeze in 1/4 of the lime to top. And there you have it…disfruta!

Bartending 101

I’ll admit it straight up – I’m a cork dork.

That’s what my bartending teacher calls those of us who are wine snobs - those of us who already know which wines are varietals, which should be served with dessert and which should be heated, even before he writes it on the board. It’s a plus that I know “grigio” in Italian means “grey.”

Wonton, our teacher, and as far as I am concerned, our drinking buddy, teaches the University of Florida’s bartending class for two hours on Wednesday nights. The class – a motley bunch of 21-and-older frat boys, wanna-be bartenders, curious souls and borderline alcoholics – each came with a different purpose, but all with the coveted idea of learning a thing or two about college's true takeaway, alcohol, without a killer hangout or a burnt-out pocket.

Each week greets us 30 students with a different alcohol – vodka, whisky, tequila, rum. After a bit of history, mixology and description, we get to taste and try what we learned. Tonight, for our first class, we began with wine and beer.

Reds, whites and blushes span the wine scale. Chianti, Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, Riesling and all others were described to my fellow classmates. Optimal serving temperature and food pairings were glossed over, and wine wasn’t served (another class at UF is dedicated specifically to wine). Bummer for us cork dorks.

Beer, on the other hand, was in abundance. Little plastic cups dispersed at the end of the lesson were for sampling the smorgasbord of cold ones.

Kona, from Hawaii, left a lasting impression, perhaps just because of its origin. Guinness in a can, with its ultra-cool, patented CO2 filter, showed its skills in making packaged beer taste like draft. Shock Top took the place of Blue Moon. Bottled apple cider and Bud Light Golden Wheat were easily identifiable as the ladies’ heartthrobs. Local beers from Key West and Tampa somehow squeezed their way in, but couldn’t quite hold their own next to the standards like Red Stripe, Yuengling, Samuel Adams, XX and Stella Artois. Gluten-free and organic beers showed just how far the ale and lager industry have come. Flying Dog Tire Bite and, dare I put it in the same category, Old Engine Oil, were too bold to be truly enjoyed. And missing from the crew were Corona, Heineken and Bud Light. Perhaps they were too drunk to come to class.

My personal favs (and no, I am still not a beer drinker) included Wild Blue, Newcastle and a raspberry-infused brewski that, with each sip, tasted like a sun-kissed field. I regret to say I can’t remember its name.

If my beer-tainted mind from tonight’s class is any indication of future lessons, I cannot wait until next week.