I wrote about Margaritas a little while ago. I stuck to describing the “canonical” recipe, rather than giving my own, because I hadn’t really perfected the drink. Since that time, I’ve been touching up and refining my recipe until, if I do say so myself, it is almost entirely perfect. The other day I was in a Dave and Buster’s, and had the opportunity to drink on someone else’s tab. Without thinking, I ordered a margarita on the rocks, and was given something well-nigh undrinkable. I knew my Margarita recipe was better than what you find in most bars, but I didn’t realize just how much better it was until I had refreshed my memory.
I’ll give you my Entirely Perfect Magarita recipe in a little while, but first let me wander afield and talk about something else that happened recently. It starts, as so many stories do, with my friend Nat.
“Hey!” I said to Nat, “I have the perfect Margarita recipe! Are you prepared to go from zero to drunk in 8.9 seconds?” “Sure,” he said, “although actually I haven’t been drinking many Margaritas recently. I’ve been making a lot of Sidecars.”
I’m all about the booze, but I have a poor memory for mixed drinks, and I’d never had a Sidecar. “What’s a Sidecar?” Wikipedia claims it is a descendent of the Daiquiri, which is almost the eohippus of the class: equal parts brandy, Cointreau, and lemon juice, often served with a sugared rim. Intrigued, I set aside my Margarita experiments and spent a week madly making (and, er, drinking) sidecars, using different types of brandy and different types of lemon. I mentioned to another friend of mine whether he knew of a bar in town that made a decent sidecar so I could have a reference against which to judge. His answer was quick: “No, I don’t know any bars where I could get a sidecar,” he laughed, “because I’m not a girl.”
This sort of thing has gotten me into trouble before. Once, when put on the spot in a bar I’d never been to, I blurted out the first drink I saw on the menu. “I’ll have, uh, a Cosmopolitan.” I had absolutely no idea what a Cosmopolitan was; it turns out that it is a ridiculous pink martini. I’m not insecure in my sexuality, but you simply can’t avoid it: a man drinking a pink martini might as well be wearing a dress. I spent the rest of the night getting funny looks from everyone around me, and when I left was half-convinced that people at the bar might follow me home and beat me up for my lunch money.
So there is this concept of “the girly drink” that floats around in the zeitgeist. What is it that makes a drink girly? We should note that “girly” does not, in fact, mean that only women drink these drinks. First off, there are plenty of women who drink real drinks: witness Ladies United for the Preservation of Endangered Cocktails. Furthermore, the success of Chi-chis is not based entirely on 45 year old twice-divorced legal transcriptionists going out for Ultimate Frozen Strawberry Daiquiris. For every woman at a bar drinking a girly drink, you’ll find a guy drinking one too. OK, it’s true that he’s just trying to convince her to drink more so that he can take her home in his Camaro and score, but that’s not the point. The point is that just as our culture has embraced fake food and fake political debate because they are more convenient than the real thing, we have embraced fake cocktails as well. When I call something a “girly drink”, it’s that easy acceptance of mediocrity that I am in fact trying to evoke.
Some drinks are born girly, while others have girliness thrust upon them: we’ve already established here that although “Daiquiri” today connotes a fruit smoothie specifically constructed to hide the taste of booze, the real daiquiri will knock you for a loop, pillage your cattle, and write a Hemingway novel before you cure your hangover. One classic sidecar recipe calls for cognac/lemon juice/Cointreau in an 8:2:1 mixture. So the girliness of a given drink is often in its implementation.
A week spent downing innumerable sidecars, with varying grades of brandy and cognac, has convinced me that I still like Magaritas better. So here, with no further ado, is my discussion of the Entirely Perfect Margarita.
I’ve already discussed how to make a good Margarita: use a decent tequila (100% blue agave), and Cointreau instead of any other triple sec. The two things that separate the Entirely Perfect Margarita from the others you’ve had are the citrus juice, and the proportions.
Limes are problematic. Perhaps people in sunnier climes don’t have this problem, but at least where I am I cannot get limes that taste the same year ’round. One batch is bitter and acidic, another batch is sour and juiceless, a third batch is sweet and lemony. The point is that around a third of your Margarita is subject to the vagaries of whatever limes got delivered to your grocer this week. I have found a way to solve this problem. Instead of persian lime juice, I use the juice of two key limes combined with the juice from half a (small) lemon. This will give you the exact taste you’re looking for in a Margarita, and will be much more consistent to boot.
Second, I use a 1:1:1 ratio of all the ingredients, rather than the more traditional 2:2:1 of juice:tequila:Cointreau. 1/3rd key lime and lemon juice, 1/3rd tequila, 1/3rd Cointreau, shake over ice and serve. Make this for guests and you’ll be a superhero.
Just make sure you get their keys, first.
I like the sidecars at Kelly’s. No sugared rim, and they use lemon juice and not sour mix like some half-assed bars do.
The sidecar is “girly”? News to me. (On Google the “sidecar manly” to “sidecar girly” ratio is about 35,500 to 800, for what it’s worth.)
I guess one could make a girly-style sidecar by sugaring it up and going heavy on the juice, and maybe that’s what the kids are drinking these days. Nevertheless, the well-made sidecar is a classic man’s drink. It’s also a useful benchmark: if your bartender can’t make a proper sidecar, ordering any other classic cocktail will probably earn you a glass of disappointment.
The Sidecar is among my top three drinks. It is sadly ignored. I declared 2003 the Year of the Sidecar and attempted to get the bartenders in Butler to understand how they’re properly made. I didn’t have a lot of luck, probably because I was the only person in the county drinking them. To bad for everyone else.
I like my Sidecars with lime, not lemon, and with the brandy:Cointreau:lime ratio as 4:2:1.
Another good alternative: a Bourbon Sidecar (http://www.closkey.com/mybrilliantmistakes/archives/000082.html), which does require lemon rather than lime.
I’m a Manhattan girl myself. If I ever feel the need to be girly, I’ll ask for an extra cherry.
Errata: I said in the original article that for my Margaritas I use the juice of one key lime and 1/2 a lemon. Actually, that’s two key limes and half a lemon. My only explanation for the mistake is that I had just finished trying out the latest batch of Sidecars and Margaritas with our test panel when I wrote the article.
My question would be, then, what constitutes a “manly” drink these days. Martinis? Gin and tonic?
Are there any “interesting man drinks” worth learning about?
I did once order an “Old Fashioned” at a company lunch, and a room full of mostly men had no idea what it was.
I think my favorite drink is 2 parts whiskey (Jameson works well), 2 parts OJ, 1 part Grapefruit. From the look of this blog this is girly because the juice outweighs the liquor. Oh well. I drive a small car too.
-Doug
As the nice waitress at the Bellagio cautioned me about Manhattans: “That’s Booze ya know? I mean…. it’s BOOZE!” to which I replied: “yup… as my pappy said: a manhattan straight up please!”
I’m not sure what mixed drink I like, though the dirty martini is currently making my list when I drink.
This brings to mind the Kids in the Hall sketch ‘Girl Drink Drunk’. Does anyone actually still remember KITH? *sigh* I feel old…
I don’t know about vextorspace’s favourite drink being girly, but adding a load of fruit juice to whiskey marks it out as amoral.
That said I used to like a Manhattan every now and then (strictly a Rob Roy, but you can get some funny looks telling people you like to suck down Rob Roys).
As for the Sidecar being a girly drink, pah! When I used to make them the ratio was 2 strong (brandy), 1 sweet (cointreau), 1 sour (lemon) as a real cocktail should be — except those that shouldn’t. It has a good kick and the flavours are fairly well balanced.
When it comes to pink drinks, thanks to Angel I like the occassional Sea Breeze and its utter pinkness has never bothered me.
I also prefer the sidecar a bit to the margarita. But think what you’re saying here — they’re basically the same recipe, citrus juice + cointreau + booze. The sidecar substitutes cognac for tequila, and lemon for lime. How could one be girly and one be manly?
I wasn’t saying (or wasn’t trying to say) that one IS girly or IS manly. I was talking about the perception of drinks, which doesn’t have to have any rational underpinning. And as I said, a lot depends on the implementation.
If you want to come up with conundrums you can pick drinks that are identical all day. For example, post-Big Lebowski, White Russians are manly. But a Brandy Alexander is still girly.
Ooh, I recently learned of a pink drink that is manly at heart: a Pink Gin. Swirl a glass with bitters, add an ice cube, and fill with gin. And then beat up anyone who comments.
I remember Girl Drink Drunk. I miss Kids in the Hall too.
I squish your head!
I pinch your face!
There is nobody home!
Yes, Kelly’s!!! They make a great sidecar. They make a great margarita. And great cocktails in general. As for the Cosmopolitan, if it’s that pink, it’s made wrong – should be fresh lime juice and just a dash of cranberry to make it slightly pink and it should NOT be sweet. Damn Sex in the City.
Plus, all of those classic “girly” drinks will kick your ass! They are mostly alcohol with very little mixer.
Yeah, with good alcohol, it’s sometimes a shame to muck them up with too much mixer.