Рецепт Cinco de Mayo Margaritas
If you have been a long time reader of EE, you may remember that The Hubs and I have a freud fued around May 5 of every year. (Seriously, I was not trying to be funny. I actually typed “Freud” first. Wow. I have to pause for a minute to read a LOT into that slip!)
Anywhoo, we met on May 5. It was a Wednesday night. It was at our local neighborhood hang out. It was past 9 o’clock.
What in the world was I doing out on a Wednesday night past nine? I mean, really, it was a school night.
I was still in my twenties. I could still pull off that sort of thing. Enough said.
We were meant to meet. It was fate. (Again, ’nuff said.)
My best friend and I were sharing a house in midtown. As we were single twenty-somethings, it was not unusual for us to go out on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. Going out on Wednesdays was bit more uncommon. So, what was our excuse?
We had met some “slicky-boys” as my best friend and roommate would later call them. A “slicky-boy” is a male who seems to look too good on paper.
House at the lake? Check.
Owns a cool car? Check.
Also owns a Harley? Check.
Seemingly unlimited supply of money? Check.
Totally handsome? Not so much. (But, with all the other “bonuses”, we could over look that for a while.)
One of these lads was after my girlfriend and promised to set me up with his friend, a veterinarian. “Interesting. Might be a possibility,” I thought. So, we agreed to meet them out on Wednesday night. (We weren’t the smartest chicas around.)
We arrived early and got a table for it was crowded that night.
When they arrived, we were already seated. I stood up to be introduced to my veterinarian. He was 5′ 4″. I am 5′ 11″ and I believe I had heels on which would put me over 6′. I was not impressed. And besides, this guy was OLD. He had to be over thirty-five. (Remember, we were clueless twenty-somethings.)
So, I sat back down and tried to hide my embarrassment and boredom. As I listened to his inane banter, I was just thinking about leaving. That’s when it happened. I saw this great looking guy at the bar. I noticed that he and another guy were talking to some very petite girls. (And, he was totally handsome!)
I love my best friend. She followed my gaze, realized that she knew the other guy from college, ran over to talk to him, and brought my future husband back to the table.
The Hubs is a big guy (former college football player). He sauntered over to the table, crowded the small vet out of the way, and muscled his way into my heart. I joke that he rescued me. We talked and laughed and danced—two-stepping to the Cajun band that was playing. (And, he was totally HOT!) Like I said, it was a weird and fateful night.
Although I don’t remember, I think it was a full moon, too.
(This is where we met.)
Every year, I remind The Hubs of our anniversary and he scoffs, “This is not our anniversary. We got married in December.”
Still I persist. This year marks the twenty-first year of our meeting.
To celebrate our faux-anniversary (as I have started calling it), I will whip up some margaritas.
Here is a new favorite I made when I had too many lemons on hand.
Sweet and Sour Margaritas
- 3 T. honey
- 3 T. hot water
- 1 c. fresh lemon juice
- 1 c. gold tequila (100% agave)
- 1 oz. Campari
- 1/2 – 1 c. frozen dark sweet cherries
Dissolve the honey in the hot water. Set aside while you juice the lemons.
Place lemon juice, tequila, Campari and honey-water in a pitcher and stir. Add frozen cherries.
Serve. (We like our margaritas tart so feel free to add more sweetener to your liking.)
This recipe makes enough for two JUMBO cocktails or four regular sized ones.
I cannot take a decent beverage picture to save my life.
Twilight
So, I tried some effects.
Twinkle
They still sucked.
But, Cinco de Mayo seemed like a good place for some cacti pics. Here are some recently flowering (and near flowering) cacti pictures from our greenhouse. Maybe you will enjoy these more.
Happy Cinco de Mayo (tomorrow), ya’all!!!!