Tequila Sunrise

Paloma

The Paloma is Mexico’s most popular cocktail by volume, considerably outselling the Margarita in the country that produces the tequila both are built on. Outside Mexico its profile is lower, partly because the defining grapefruit soda is less universally available than lime and triple sec. The name means dove, and the origin is most often attributed to Don Javier Delgado Corona of La Capilla in the town of Tequila, Jalisco, though the precise date and the accuracy of that attribution are not clearly established anywhere. What is established is that tequila and grapefruit have been a fixture of Mexican drinking long enough to become the country’s default tequila serve, which is a more meaningful endorsement than any bar guide. The salt rim is the element most often omitted by versions that miss what the drink is doing. Salt suppresses bitterness, which makes it a structural decision rather than a flavouring one.

El Diablo

El Diablo is the devil in a highball, and a Trader Vic creation from 1946: tequila and crème de cassis under a ginger beer top, lime squeezed and dropped, one of the first cocktails anywhere to treat tequila as worth building around. Vic printed it as the Mexican El Diablo when tequila was still exotic; the drink outlived the qualifier. The blackcurrant is the sly part. Cassis colours the drink a plausible devilish crimson and sweetens the seam between agave and ginger, the tequila’s pepper answers the ginger beer’s bite, and the lime keeps all three honest: a mule’s architecture wearing a darker suit. It drinks easier than its name and colour promise, which was presumably the joke. Among tequila highballs it sits between the Paloma’s sunshine and the serious stirred drinks: fruitier than the former, more playful than the latter, and the best possible answer to a ginger beer bottle already open from Storm & Spice duty.

Tommy’s Margarita

The Tommy’s Margarita was born at Tommy’s Mexican Restaurant in San Francisco, where Julio Bermejo, working his family’s floor from the early 1990s, made two changes to the house margarita that became modern doctrine: out went the triple sec, in came agave syrup, and the well tequila became 100 per cent agave or nothing. The result carries his family’s restaurant name into every serious bar on earth. The logic is like-with-like. Orange liqueur, the classic margarita’s sweetener, brings its own flavour to the party; agave syrup brings only sweetness with the plant’s own accent, which lets the tequila stand at the front of its own drink. Three ingredients, and the spirit finally audible: the Tommy’s is less a variation than an argument about what a margarita is for. It is also the drink that taught a generation to read tequila labels. Bermejo evangelised 100 per cent agave bottlings from behind his bar decades before the category boomed, and the Tommy’s remains the fastest way to taste why the words on the label matter.