Living with a beer aficionado, I’m by no means a teetotaler, but I seldom feel compelled to drink alone. Which is why it’s freakishly odd to find myself on a Thursday afternoon with a selection of tequila samples in front of me, and no one but the dogs to share my thoughts with. How the hell did this happen?
I suspect I’m not the only person for whom the word tequila brings up bad memories; in my case a hazy night of shots followed by beer chasers at the Bovine in my wild and misspent youth, and truly the official worst hangover ever the next day. Not to mention the more coherent image of members of a rock band standing around in my kitchen, doing “body shots” off the near-naked chest of an under-aged girl who was supposed to be one of the people in charge of the music festival we were producing. Both events came with the forethought; “this is a bad, bad thing.”
But for most people, that’s what tequila means to them. For decades, there were only a couple of low-end brands of the Mexican liquor available in Canada, and outside of sweet drinks like margaritas, it was consumed with the sole purpose of getting shitfaced and/or laid.
Continue reading “Sunday Sips – Tequila, You’re Breaking My Heart”