To make margaritas, you will need:
- Middle age
- At least two divorces
Margaritas need tequila. If you have relatives round, don’t say that, or one of them will invariably pipe up with “I think I need tequila”. You’ll find yourself having to laugh politely, or worse, genuinely laughing. With that laugh, you will surrender any claim to being young and free.
You can find tequila in any good supermarket, or a field where year eights are drinking. I tend to opt for the latter, as they’re usually too drunk to notice you’re stealing it. The recipe also calls for lime juice, which in my experience year eights don’t drink. They usually think that ‘lime juice’ is either a Class A drug or homophobic slur. Either way, they tend to be on-board, but it isn’t particularly helpful.
Add tequila and lime juice into a glass, with some orange liquor. For the uninitiated, orange liquor tastes like a Terry’s chocolate orange, if Terry’s chocolate oranges were haunted.
Finally, add some salt around the glass. I know it’s disgusting, but look at you. You used to have dreams and aspirations, and now what are you doing? You’re standing in somebody else’s kitchen wearing an apron that says “I love cooking with wine: sometimes I add it to the food!!!” You’re holding a jug of alcohol you think you’ll hate over six empty glasses. You’re oddly reluctant to pour, as if there’s some part of you in that jug that you’ll lose when you separate it into portions. And the truth is, there is, and you will. You’re going to do it anyway. I know it, you know it, the whole street knows it. So put salt around the glasses: it’s what you deserve.
Best served with lots of friends and even more tequila 😉