The Beginning

It has come to my attention that there are a grand total of ZERO regularly updated tequila review blogs out there; at least, there are no bloggers easily accessible from Google that review the wonderful world of tequila. While my friends at Tequila.net do a fantastic job of keeping us all updated on the goings on in the tequila community, where are all my bloggers at?

I feel the need to fill this niche and bring the global tequila shooting community something to peruse as they open their minds to this oft-misunderstood drink. I hope that my reviews are well-received and useful to the man or woman seeking a new tequila experience in their lives, who are sick of the standards and want something new to shoot, mix, or sip.

It’s not just for bandits and binge-drinking college kids. Tequila can be an incredible experience if you do it right. The flavor, the smooth burn, the versatility…it’s time to take back tequila from the likes of those bad dates you’ve had with Mr. Cuervo or Lady Patrón.

Everyone has a tequila story, whether it involves projectile vomiting, hugging a toilet for thirteen hours, or your very first alcohol poisoning. That’s not the point. The point is that you can drink tequila and enjoy it. You can even remember it the very next morning. And good tequila? A good tequila can soothe even the most catastrophic of days.

To kick things off, I’ll tell you all about my first tequila experience.

It was my 23rd birthday and I celebrated it at Margaritaville (sue me, there aren’t a whole lot of ‘upscale’ places to celebrate here in the Inland Empire, and I had to work the next night). Up until that point, I had indulged in sweet cocktails…mostly rums and the like. I did shots, but always things like Kamikazes, B-52s, and Buttery Nipples. Suddenly, as my friend and I waited for the bartender, “Margaritaville” blared on the speakers. If you’ve ever been to one of these establishments, you know what it means: Scantily clad cocktail waitresses stand on the bar and it’s $1 shot time.

It being my birthday and all, a fine portly gentleman gave me a dollar and told me to get myself some tequila. I wandered over to the girl, and being the gregarious bandida I am, screamed the following over the music as I handed over my dollar:

“It’s my fuckin’ birthday!!”

She tilted my head back and I braced for the shot of José Cuervo.

This woman poured not one, not two, but THREE shots worth of Cuervo down my gullet. Oh, it burned in the best way you can imagine. I was no longer a tequila virgin…and I actually liked it.

Fifteen minutes later, I turned to my friend and whispered “I can’t feel my legs!”

I terrorized a motorist, a Jack-in-the-Box lady, the movie Anchorman, and a grassy knoll on the way home. Mostly shirtless.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is how you enter the world of tequila aficionados.