Check it Out, I Made a Paloma

This is adapted from the script of Episode 98, “ˆLight and Get Away, It’s the Fall Small Games Preview.”

The promise of getting my Vitamin C and a buzz was one of the things that compelled me to make my first-ever Paloma, which I tried during a recording with Walt, who had his own fixins down in Florida. 

I wish I could play the audio for you, but the first thing I learned about a Paloma is that when you eat almost nothing all day, then realize you’re due on Discord for a recording session in 20 minutes and you haven’t exercised yet and you rush through a choppy upper-body routine, then use a Paloma as your recovery drink…you get fucked up pretty fast.

Fucked up enough to somehow not capture or download all the audio.

It’s gotta be the juice, because it’s sure as hell not the liquor

Nonetheless, I remember much of it. Here’s how I went at this fruit-juice-and-tequila concoction: I had Herradura Reposado, which for the first time, I didn’t enjoy drinking straight. I picked it up with fantasies of sipping it throughout the night, but I ended up parking it on the shelf until I could find a recipe to pour it in.

I settled on trying a Paloma, so I hand juiced two grapefruit and a dozen limes. I also had on hand some unflavored Lacroix sparkling water, some simple syrup and kosher salt for the glass rim, mixing it in the proportions recommended by a blog called Love and Lemons.

I excitedly got it all on ice without incident, but it took me awhile to taste the heart of it because I’d oversalted the rim. That kosher salt was so potent, my first few sips were…some kind of liquid pouring through a boulder field of salt stuck to my lips. It was shockingly salty.

But like most of our minor mistakes in life, salt dissolves. A few sips later, I got the payoff I wanted. My senses rebalanced and it showed its glory in the middle stage: tart, cold, fizzy and smooth against the push of the salt, with the boring Herradura almost entirely buried except for a pleasant afternote. The drink seemed to snip all the front-end mezcal load that had so displeased me before and instead showed me the spirit’s soft ass — an almost buttery chase at the end of every sip. I finally found the part of this bottle that I liked. 

Over on the other end of the phone, Walt was posted up with some lime-flavored fizzy water, some Ocean Spray grapefruit and a bottle of Espolòn Blanco. This was his first time with tequila since his standard Jose Cuervo cautionary-example scenes as a teenager.

He reported pleasant surprised at the friendliness of the Espolòn during his pre-mix sample of the bottle, but when I connect with him the next day, he says once again he’s done with tequila. Personally, I think it’s probably because he used too much Ocean Spray.

I merrily continued pouring long after our call. My fruit juice ran out, but I kept at it into the night, getting to the point where I was just dumping tequila on soda and ice, which was fine.

A week later I saw that I still had some dregs of the Herradura bottle, so I finished it off neat, circling back for one second-chance nip. Nope. Didn’t like it anymore than the day I bought it.

The next time I drink a tequila straight, it’s gonna have to be better than this: Even after warming my mouth with one sip, the first hit of that agave flavor just tasted like plastic and ethanol trying to wear a plant costume mask. It had too little charm, and there was nothing seductive or noticeable on the finish.

I think I need to splurge a little the next time I’m in the tequila section.