Tequila

Using tequila as a steaming liquid enhances the flavor of the clams and oysters, but it’s fine to use water instead. Setting the skillet over a grill gives the dish a touch of smokiness, or you can use your stove turned to medium-high heat.

Cinco de Mayo actually marks the 1862 Mexican victory over the French, not Mexican Independence Day, as some believe. Thanks to Madison Avenue, it’s a holiday more enthusiastically embraced north of the border than south. To celebrate this semicorporate affair, grilled Burgos de Mayo combine all our favorite Mexican flavors (including the tequila) on one bun. Top them off with Mayo de Mayo, our Cinco “special sauce.”

While at first blush it may appear that this cheater pitcher was inspired by Jimi Hendrix and Creedence Clearwater Revival, the credit belongs entirely to bottled smoke. Rim the glasses with Cheater Basic Smoked Salt with celery seed (page 48) if you like.

Cheaper spring break brands of tequila are plenty good enough for mixing with tangy sour juices and margarita mix. To prove this point to ourselves and save some money, we set up a blind Cheata Rita taste test, comparing regular cheap tequila with fancy top-shelf $45-a-bottle brands. Honestly, we could not taste a difference. You’re probably thinking that we’ve oversmoked our taste buds, and you may be right. If so, that’s money in the bank, as we’re now saving the good stuff to pour over ice. We say go economy on the tequila and perk up the margarita mix with fresh lime and orange juices.

The Yellow Jacket cocktail was inspired by chance circumstances and a little harassment. For weeks, we had toyed with the idea of mixing together Partida Reposado tequila and St-Germain elderflower liqueur, but there was a piece of the puzzle missing. Then one evening, a bunch of obnoxious cocktail geeks came into Employees Only to stump the bartenders by ordering the Last Word cocktail. After being satisfied with that drink, they asked if we knew of another drink with Chartreuse. At that moment, Yellow Chartreuse became the ingredient needed to bind together the elderflower and tequila. So pretty and elegant, the rich yellow color grabs your attention. The true beauty of this drink, though, is the interplay of the ingredients. The light oak on the Partida Reposado tequila works so well with the St-Germain, and they in turn produce a perfect ground for Yellow Chartreuse to bring it all into balance. The orange bitters play a key role. This cocktail is similar in style to the Widow’s Kiss cocktail (page 141), as they both contain very sweet herbaceous ingredients balanced by high alcohol content. It’s named for the yellow jacket wasps that inhabit agave farms and tequila distilleries.

If we had a family drink, this would be it. (Underage kids excepted, of course.) It’s my older daughter Louise’s favorite, and she makes this margarita perfectly for all of us on the weekends. I love the heat of the ginger balanced by aged tequila. Be sure to use high-quality aged tequila here. Otherwise, the drink will taste like spring break gone wild.

The icy strawberry filling in this pie is pleasantly complemented by the luscious whipped cream. The pie tastes just like a margarita—the tequila flavor adds quite a zing. The recipe calls for freezing the whipped cream on top of the pie, but you can also freeze just the strawberry part and add the whipped cream when you serve the pie.

GOOD TO KNOW Sparkling Prosecco adds effervescence—and not an ounce of fat—to grown-up sorbet floats; tequila combines with orange and lime in a granita that tastes like a frozen margarita, salted glass rims and all.

“Drunken” salsas have been around forever. They were originally prepared with pulque, an alcoholic beverage made from the fermented juice of the once-sacred maguey (agave) plant. Pulque, which is not easy to find outside of Mexico, is not distilled and has a much stronger flavor than tequila, which I use in its place in this recipe. The alcohol is mostly burned off in the cooking process, leaving only its musky flavor. The sweetness from the freshly squeezed orange juice gives this salsa a wonderful balance.

This recipe is one of my favorites ever. It comes from my aunt Marcela, a chef who inspired me to enter the magical world of the culinary arts. We not only share the same name and the same career, we also agree that sweet and spicy is one of the best combinations when preparing Mexican food. Store-bought apricot preserves, used here, work well; just be sure to buy the best you can find. A kitchen syringe is a useful tool for injecting the hens with a flavorful mixture of broth, butter, and tequila. The result is a moist and succulent dish.

The influx of great-quality tequilas into this country over the last decade has gently nudged my concept of what a margarita should be ever further away from the sweet blender drinks that bars and American Mexican restaurants pass off as “margaritas.” These days a long pour of good tequila, a dash of orange liqueur, and a quarter of a lime over ice is how I make them. The following recipe has a little more padding, but is still a vehicle for the flavor of tequila, so I advise buying the best you can (it should be 100 percent agave). If the salt-rimmed glass doesn’t appeal to you (or a guest), omit the first step.

Who doesn’t love a margarita? Well, this is one way to get the flavor in a very refreshing ice that you can keep on hand in your freezer. You’ll be tempted to add more tequila, but try to refrain, because it won’t freeze.

Watch out for these—they go down easy!

When I first got Rick Bayless’s Mexican Kitchen, I was so inspired by the recipes that I invited people over and made brunch for the first time in years. It was a warm, sunny New Orleans winter day, and I picked satsumas from my backyard tree and made these margaritas to welcome everyone.

This is mixologist David Alan’s grownup version of that old college party favorite Long Island Iced Tea. By using premium spirits in small amounts, David creates a balanced drink that isn’t too sweet or too strong, a far cry from the frat boy rendition, where one drink could put you out for the night. David omits the standard sweet-and-sour mix and tops the cocktail with the traditional splash of cola. Incidentally, despite its name, the drink doesn’t contain tea, but when all the ingredients are mixed together it sure looks like it.

I’m betting it took a strong stomach to handle what cowboys called son-of-a-bitch stew, a concoction that included cow innards, even, and especially, the guts. “A son-of-a-bitch might not have any brains and no heart, but if he ain’t got guts he ain’t a son-of-a bitch” is the old cowboy saying. Known as son-of-a-gun stew in polite company, the dish was standard chuck wagon fare and said to include everything from a young calf but “the hair, horns, and holler.” According to Come an’ Get It: The Story of the Old Cowboy Cook by the late western folklorist Ramon F. Adams, the real thing did not include any vegetables save perhaps a “skunk egg,” cowboy slang for onion. I guess the only thing that my stew has in common with the cowboy favorite—and I know I am stretching things here—is my use of venison, just about as accessible to many of us Texans as the calves were to cowboys on the range. Everyone around here shoots deer, and many of my friends have freezers full of venison to prove it. If you don’t, feel free to substitute beef stewing meat. You can make this stew up to 3 days in advance, or freeze it for up to 3 weeks.

Just a few of us hung around the kitchen following a wonderful late-afternoon party at Sarah and Sam Bell Steves’s San Antonio home. Sam’s son, Tres, stopped by and we started talking margaritas. Tres broke out the family’s personalized sterling silver margarita shakers, a pretty good sign that we’d stumbled into in the hands of a margarita-making marvel. We politely asked for seconds—just to make sure. Then we asked for the recipe.

While most of my friends are foodies, David Alan’s central focus is liquid refreshment. A coffee distributor by trade, he devotes most of his free time to the art of the cocktail. He writes a witty, drink-packed blog called Tipsy Texan. I asked him to create a couple of drinks for my backyard garden party. Both are beautiful to look at and delicious enough to be dangerous. The drinks are tastiest made one at a time and enjoyed immediately. If you are throwing a party with a spouse or partner, suggest they help by manning (or woman-ing) your “bar”—any small to medium table will do—for the first 30 to 45 minutes of the party. The bar action provides a focal point for incoming guests, and it’s a great icebreaker. Have all the ingredients and drink-mixing paraphernalia assembled in advance and set them out on your bar just before guests arrive. A large ice bucket, or even two, filled with crushed ice is a must.

My friend Yvonne makes this salad for her summertime pool parties when we crave something cool and light, which is often. She tosses it in a big bowl, we throw something on the grill, and everyone heads for her backyard pool. Sometimes we float in the pool all afternoon, climbing out of the water only when we need a watermelon break. It’s a great way to beat the Texas heat. Using the scooped-out watermelons as serving bowls means this dish performs double duty: satisfying your guests’ appetites and adding an eye-catching decorative touch. It’s easier than you think and your friends will marvel at your artistic flair.

Salt makes tart things taste sweeter (and, oddly, cuts the sweetness of sweet things to bring out their subtler flavors) and mellows the sharpness of alcohol. The salted rim of the margarita is iconic because it capitalizes on all the opportunities lurking within the sweet-tart-alcohol bite of the cocktail; because it is beautiful; and because it revives us with every sip. The salted rim allows margaritas to be served on the tart side, so this recipe calls for more fresh lime juice and less triple sec than is commonly recommended. As tempting as it may be to bring out the heavy guns and rim the cocktail with more massive flake salts, I often prefer the fine crystalline froth of Marlborough flakey. It gives a truly satisfying crunch, like the feeling of stepping on powdered snow—a welcome sensation when drinking a margarita in the waning heat of a late summer afternoon.

Sitting in the sun, overlooking the beach, I could drink margaritas all day. Unfortunately, or maybe I should say, fortunately, I don’t live in a warm climate or anywhere near a beach. If I did, I’d never get anything done. Whenever I’m looking for a taste of the tropics at home in Paris, I’ll start squeezing limes in my kitchen and I’m immediately transported to paradise (albeit with bills piled up on the counter and the dishes in the sink). Practically obligatory to serve alongside margarita sorbet are salted peanut cookies. They were inspired by the disks of solid peanut paste sold in Mexican markets called mazapan or dulce de cacahuate, which I’ve been known to nibble on with a margarita, or two, south of the border. And above it, as well.

Skirt steak is a chef’s best friend. Besides cooking up fairly quickly, it’s got a great flavor and a price tag that shouldn’t break the bank. However, I’ve found that traditional supermarkets sometimes charge substantially higher for it than Latino markets and carnicerias, so shop savvy—especially if you plan on cooking for a larger crowd. Use the carne asada in tacos, burritos, or tortas, or atop a piping hot plate of nachos. diced onions, chopped cilantro, lime wedges, sliced radishes, and, of course, more Sriracha make excellent toppers

This definitely isn’t a common flavor of paletas in Mexico! It’s inspired by one of the first desserts that wowed me as a child—and my favorite dessert for years: cherries jubilee. My extended family and I were on a cruise, and one night all the waiters came out to make cherries jubilee, flambéing the cherries tableside, then serving them over vanilla ice cream. It was quite a theatrical spectacle to see all the elegant waiters simultaneously come out of nowhere with their carts. I was more impressed by the amazing flavors than the dramatic flair. Back then, I was too young to know the word sublime, but that’s definitely how I felt when I ate it. In this version, sour cream replaces the vanilla ice cream. Its tart flavor complements the sweet cherries deliciously.