This past weekend we went up to Dallas to pick up Jigger, our mascot/dog, from Tipsy's parents' house, where he had been staying for the week while we were on vacation. The date so happened to coincide with Tipsy's brother-in-law's 40th birthday, and being good catholics there was naturally a party where copious amounts of booze were being consumed. So festive was this particular soiree that they rented a margarita machine. I was offered a glass of the frosty liquid upon my arrival, and not wanting to seem inhospitable, I accepted. I am not generally a fan of the frozen margarita but since we live in what must be the frozen margarita capitol of the world, I have consumed my fair share. They are generally quite bad though In many restaurants they are passable, and occasionally even good. The "margarita" that came out of the machine on this particular evening did not register on the usual scale of terrible tipples. A whole new system had to be created to rate how bad this drink was. The heartburn, for one, was instantaneous, a swift rebuttal from a system seeking comfort after the long drive. The lime did not taste like lime so much as it tasted like lime Jell-O, or something else that is supposed to taste like lime but doesn't. The taste remaining in my mouth was as refreshing as a glass of water that has been poured from a soda gun that hasn't been flushed--unclean.
Paradise City? More like Cape Fear
The next morning I awoke on the sofa in the same room as the margarita machine. You would think that it would be difficult to sleep in the same room with a contraption demonic enough to have dispensed such a hideous libation, but since I found a few other things to drink after disposing of the malgarita, I slept fine. It was waking up that was hard to do. And the first thing I saw when I woke up was the machine in the corner with the sign reading "Paradise Margaritas." Paradise, I pondered. No, Paradise is not quite right. Incarcerated felons, I had to think, would expect a better beverage upon their release than the ones that came out of this machine.
Jus look at that ingredient list!
When I cleared my eyes I noticed that the jug of margarita mix was sitting near the machine. "Jus-Mix", by Jus-Made LP, Dallas, Texas. There is something that is jus not right about this product: HFCS, yellow #5, blue#1. 0% Fruit juice! Two different preservatives and "natural flavors"--where do those come from if there's no juice? Impossibly gross. It's truly amazing to me that people buy this crap. What would be the motivation? Isn't it disturbing that we have degenerated so far as a drinking culture that someone would look at a bottle with ingredients like this and say, "I want to invite everyone I know over for a special occasion, and celebrate with this!" I don't understand how the 'national drink of Texas' has become this endangered: at this and countless parties around the state, our unofficial official drink has been reduced to a simulacrum: instead of fresh juice we have 'natural flavors'. Instead of natural color, yellow #5. Instead of sugar, High Fructose Corn Syrup. Triple Sec is only optional, and not in anything resembling the proper proportion. This margarita is, to put it in bushese, a threat to the security of our culinary heritage. And I think I was the only person who noticed.
Ball-Throated Grackle sighted in South Austin
Speaking of invasive species, there is something else that has been bothering me since I got back from vacation. There is this grackle that has been hopping around the yard that has a strange growth on its throat/neck that resembles a pair of testicles. Large ones, almost human in scale. And I have never seen such a thing. Could it be that this grackle got ahold of some of that carcinogenic Jus-Mix margarita? I'm not sure. I have a cousin who is an ornithologist but I haven't talked to her in a couple of years, and I feel awkward calling her up to ask her about this bird with the neck scrotum. I'll let you know if I get up the, ahem, gumption to call her.
