Have you ever lost something which formed a bit of your
inner being? No, I’m not talking hair or
a special ring, or even a limb, I’m referring to something both intangible and
invisible but integral to who you are.
The first parallels that come to mind are religion and virginity, and
then reluctantly Love. Recently I have been feeling a bit of my persona
slipping away. The transition has been slow, and fluid, much more akin to a
loss of ones religion than the immediate losses enjoyed in the back seat of the
Buick. It hasn’t been a painful
transition, rather, I have experienced a fairly tasty and subtitle digestion. Room
has been made for another course…..I have slowly but surely been losing my
taste for Tequila.
Gasp! You say!
Some History for the uninformed:
Like all good college students I began drinking too soon and
well before the fine Commonwealth of Pennsylvania thought appropriate. Since I
matriculated in Central PA, the fluid of choice was Yuengling Lager. “Lager” in
the local vernacular because let’s face it, Yuengling is hard to say sober, and
damn near impossible to say from the losing side of the pong table. Early
forays into the hard liquor world were influenced by a few critical concerns,
chief among those was volume of booze for the buck. So the booze was clear,
cheap, and in a plastic bottle; mixed with something full of sugar and consumed
quickly…..Resulting in hangovers which required more than a few cheeseburgers
to cure and the freshmen 25-50 which I still carry with me today.
One evening the door to my dorm room flung open, and in it
stood a seriously intoxicated friend who in one hand had his pledge bottle, and
in the other a pizza procured though dubious means. He handed me the pizza and then thrust the
bottle at me, “Have a drink.” The bottle was Monte Alban Mezcal, yes the yellow
stuff that has the worm in it, and while not Tequila it was the beginning of a
long friendship with the Agave based beverages.
Over time I acquired and reveled in a taste for good Reposado Tequila, served neat. Not a
shot, or a shooter, but a good two fingers of Mexico’s finest in a glass
unadorned with either salt or lime. For
me Tequila was a sippin drink and a margarita
is something you make when you have booze to cheap to drink straight. Me and tequila got along just fine.
Ordering Tequila neat was always a crap shoot. First you would have to explain, “No not
Cuervo, Yes that bottle over there, the one that says Tequila but does have the
word Cuervo on it.” You would be amazed how many bar tenders got it wrong. They
would shake it with ice, or instinctively pour it into a shot glass and serve
it with another glass holding the lime.
My companions would look at me cautiously, and quiver as they pondered
their last Tequila experience. “Is that Tequila?”
“Yep” “Really, you’re gonna drink it like that?” “Sure, want to try it?” “No!,
the last time I drank that stuff…….I can barely stand the smell.”
There were
advantages. Never did someone who knew what I drank, ask “do you want to do
some shots?” Furthermore once the bartender got it right, he would remember forever.
(Trying to numb the pain from holiday shopping I stopped in
the bar at the KOP Mall, I had been there last, the year before. The bartender looked up at me, smiled and
said, “You’re the Tequila Neat guy right?” True Story.)
I find myself reaching for the bottle of Basil Hayden far
more often than the Milagro, and Bourbon has its own rewards. Its smooth and sweetish to Tequila’s smoky
spice and yet they both have the a vanilla aftertaste that I enjoy the
most. You can find a few good bourbons
to choose from in most bars, which is not a luxury enjoyed by Tequila. While I still drink Tequila it’s no longer
safe to describe me as the big guy who drinks Tequila neat…..frankly I miss it. It’s fun to be distinctive, to have a drink
that while simple is distinctively yours.
There are other people on this planet who drink Tequila like I used too,
but for every agave sipper there is a million vodka martini drinkers.
What I cant figure out is how to handle this
transition. Should it be embraced, like
the experiences in the Buick, or dreaded? Those of you who have found and lost
love, know that you find it again…..just not in exactly the same place or formula,
and while it’s initially painful life works out for the best. My guess is losing a religion is a bit more
shattering.
All of which really begs the
question: Is Tequila a love or a Religion…..I think I have said enough, I’m
thirsty.
