I've been living here a week now, and already have had more conversations about Margaritas than a Senior about to go to Mexico on Spring Break. In the hallways at work, the Texan natives were lamenting about the heat that will blast us all come July. . . and one peppery gal who's been with the company over ten years chirped in her most precious southern drawl, "Oh well that's when the Margarita machine comes out!". You would not expect this coming out of a woman wearing pearls and a St. John cardigan. Her name was Kelly. Other mentions of the Margarita have been tossed around as if it's the state's Robitusson, the Texas Band-Aid for discomfort--the Lone Star liquor suitable for even the fanciest of occasions.
Then, after having two myself at the most brilliantly kitschy Tex-Mex restaurant with my mother and father-in-law (La Hacienda Ranch) I spotted this proudly displayed over the fireplace.
Only in Texas, can you get a signed letter from George W. where he commends you on your "hard work, innovation, and entrepreneurial spirit"--for inventing the worlds first frozen margarita machine. Yeah. . . Texas and I are going to get along just fine.
