Page 9 of Body Shot

“Hence the name of the bar,” I murmur to Carrie.

Marco hears her and points at her with a smile. “Yes, you are right! Although the name of the bar has other meanings for the owners. So. Before tequila, the Aztecs were making another fermented agave beverage, called pulque. Today, tequila is made exclusively from blue agave.”

“What’s the difference between tequila and mezcal?” Will asks. “Apart from the worm.”

I shudder.

“Good question.” Marco nods. “Tequila can only be made with one hundred percent blue agave. Mezcal can be made with as many as thirty varieties of agave. Because of that, mezcal can vary in taste much more than tequila. Also, tequila can only be made in certain regions of Mexico . . . mostly Jalisco.” The way he says the Spanish words, with perfect pronunciation, make me shiver. “As for the worm, I recommend you avoid those bottles. There really is no reason to put larvae into tequila.”

“Other than a good drinking game,” Beck says with a wicked grin, and everyone laughs.

“True,” Marco says. “Which is why many people think tequila is just a cheap drink for college kids.”

Carrie elbows me in the ribs and I wrinkle my nose. I catch Beck watching us, lips quirked, and my cheeks flame.

“But tequila is really a spirit that is meant to be sipped and savored,” Marco continues. “As true connoisseurs of the Mexican spirit will tell you, tequila is a refined and sophisticated beverage. Its long history makes each bottle on the tasting list tonight something to appreciate. I want to talk a little about how tequila is made, so you understand what makes a quality beverage. I’ll try not to bore you with too many details because I could talk about this forever.”

I smile at his enthusiasm, something I understand. Just not about tequila.

My attention is caught by Beck as he winks at a woman farther down the bar, then leans over to listen to something she says. He throws back his head and laughs, his white teeth gleaming in his dark beard. Then he says something back to her, and I crane my neck to see the woman. Yeah, she’s pretty—dark-haired with shiny red lips reflecting Beck’s smile in an equally flirtatious one of her own.

Ugh.

I turn my attention back to Marco.

“It takes eight to ten years before the blue agave plants are ready for harvesting. The harvester, known as the jimador, extracts the piña from the core of the plant, which are then split open and steamed. The resulting liquids ferment for twelve hours to several days, then undergo a double distillation process resulting in a potent, high-proof tequila.”

“What’s the difference between gold and silver tequila?” someone asks.

“Another good question. And I was just getting to that. Tonight we’ll be sampling tequilas from these different categories. First, silver tequila, also known as blanco or white, or plata which is platinum. This is blue agave spirit in its purest form. It’s clear and typically un-aged. The true flavors and the intensity of the agave are present, as well as the natural sweetness. This is Patrón.” He holds up a bottle.

Beck and Cade also have bottles of Patron and they begin pouring small amounts into what look like champagne flutes.

“These glasses are tequila glasses,” Beck says, “specially made to experience the full complexity of the tequila and not compress the aromas.”

Carrie and I exchange glances. I have to admit I’m reluctantly impressed. These guys are serious about their tequila. For some reason I expected limes, salt, and shot glasses that we’d toss back, but this is clearly not the case.

“First we look at its color.” Marco holds up the glass, and everyone picks up their glass and does the same. I inspect the clear silver liquid in my glass.

“Also look at the consistency. In some of the more aged tequilas, the liquid will have a heavier, thicker body. Next, savor the aroma. But don’t do this like wine—this is eighty proof alcohol.”

“If you stick your nose right in the glass, all you’ll smell is booze,” Beck adds helpfully. “And your eyes will water. You guys don’t want to look like you’re crying into your tequila and have your guy card revoked.” He shoots a grin at the men in the group, who laugh.

He’s so damn funny and charming he even wins over the men sitting at the bar.

“Take three little sniffs,” Beck continues. “The first one without moving the liquid.” He does so and everyone again follows suit, including me. “Then give it a swirl and see what you smell. And one more small sniff. Anyone?”

The scientist in me makes me focus intently on the task. “I don’t really smell much,” I admit.

Beck smiles at me and my belly flutters. “You’re right, this silver tequila doesn’t have a lot of aroma. Maybe a hint of agave. Now everyone take a small sip to get your mouth used to the alcohol.”

We all do so. I grimace as the heat traces its way down my esophagus.

“Taking a little first gets your mouth ready for the burn of the alcohol, so your next taste you can ignore that and focus on the other notes,” Beck says.

I like how Marco is the tequila aficionado and Beck brings everything down to earth.

“Now take some tequila onto your tongue and try to identify the various tastes.” Marco says. “You might sense some citrus.”

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