I hate tequila. I hate the way it smells, I hate the taste, I don’t like the weird fuzzy drunk it leaves me, and while I certainly like salt,
I generally don’t like any liquor that requires I lick a pile of it off my spit covered hand and then jam a bitter lime wedge into my mouth.
So you can imagine my excitement when I found myself sitting at Sunset Cantina with five half full shot glasses in front of me and instructions to let the liquid sit in the front of my mouth before swallowing and breathing out.
I was pleased to see the two bartenders on duty were actually more than happy to take the time to introduce me to tequila, even during a Celtics game.
You could tell that they really enjoyed tequila and they took the time to explain what I had in front of me with love and care, laughing as I crinkled my nose in anticipation.
The glasses contained Corzo Blanco (clear in color, a bit of bite), Herardura Reposado, Rey Sol Anejo (my favorite, really smooth with caramel undertones), Dom Julio Anejo and Grand Mayan (darker in color, aged and oaky tasting). I stared blankly at the glasses and pictured myself letting the liquid sit in my mouth as instructed and then breathing out vomit. Classy.
I’m sure me drinking something like that was the equivalent of a beer connoisseur watching someone enjoy a frosty bland Coors Light, and I couldn’t help but feel ashamed.
Luckily, behind me, a girl in a Celtics jersey had dropped her cell phone for the 60th time; I turned back to my tequila as she started to snort lines of Cholula hot sauce with hot pink drinking straws off her dinner plate. The tequila tells me I shouldn’t snort lines of Cholula, but that instead, I should totally give the bartender my phone number. (Wait… what?)
Did I mention I hate tequila?