A little over a year ago, I discovered a most wonderful homemade barbecue sauce. I made it and used it for grilled chicken and whoknowswhatall, and then I made it again (I think?).

I kept planning to blog about it, but then we went to Puerto Rico — and I typed the recipe up as an email draft so I wouldn’t have to Google search it every time I needed the perfect barbecue sauce — and then it was fall, and then winter, and I kept wanting to write about it but I didn’t.

The reason I like this barbecue sauce is because (oh goodness, for a split second I was back in Miss Wolgemuth’s second grade class doing a book report!) there’s no chopping of onions or blending up of anything. Simply measure, whisk, simmer, refrigerate, and then, whenever you need some barbecue sauce, grab it from where it’s hanging out in the back of the fridge, waiting … to make your wildest dreams come true!

Or something like that.

Barbecue Sauce 
Adapted from Half Baked Harvest

I usually double the recipe.

1¼ cups ketchup
1 cup brown sugar
¼ cup each molasses, pineapple juice (or apple cider vinegar), and water
1 tablespoon worcestershire sauce
2½ teaspoons dry mustard
2 teaspoons smoked paprika
½ teaspoon garlic powder
¼ – ½ teaspoon cayenne pepper
1½ teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon black pepper

Combine all ingredients in a small saucepan, bring to a boil, and then reduce heat. Simmer for five minutes, or until the sugar has dissolved. Cool and store in the refrigerator.

This same time, years previous: plan our vacation for me please, the quotidian (6.12.17), the business of belonging, Greek cucumber and tomato salad, when I sat down.

Raindrops.

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (6.11.18), spinach dip, the smartest thing I did, the quotidian (6.11.12), sourdough waffles, fresh tomatillo salsa.

The other weekend when my cousin’s family came to visit, she brought along a bottle of margarita mix. We didn’t get around to drinking any — they fixed us fresh mojitos instead, oh-la-la — so, curious as to how margaritas from a mix tasted, I asked if I could pour a bit into a jar for a drink later, after they left.

The margarita was delicious (of course — aren’t all margaritas delicious?), and then I started thinking: couldn’t I just make my own margarita mix? Really, how hard could it be?

From my preliminary research, I learned that mixes — ingredients and proportions — are all over the place. Some have only a spoonful of lime, and others call for a variety of citrus: lime, lemon, and orange. Some mixes have boatloads of simple syrup and others zero. After reading recipe after recipe, the whole thing started to sound like gobbedly-gook, so I quick scribbled down some quantities and shut the computer. Clearly, I’d have to learn by doing (and tasting, ha!).

But lo and behold, my first attempt, despite my decidedly inferior mixology skills, yielded margaritas that were exactly — I repeat, exactly — what I was after: not too sweet, punchy with alcohol, and with plenty of sour from the lime. I was thrilled.

Since then, I’ve made the mix several times. I enjoy the drinks both straight up (salted rims, optional) and whirled with ice for a slushy. On hot summer afternoons, however, I’m particularly partial to the slushy version, especially when it’s served up alongside a heaping plate of cheesy (pepper jack is best!) tortilla chips.

Margarita Mix

One recipe makes about four margaritas and can be either served straight or blended with ice.

For the simple syrup: measure ½ cup each of white sugar and water into a small saucepan and bring to a simmer over medium high heat, removing from the heat when the sugar is dissolved. Store any leftover syrup in a jar in the fridge.

6 ounces tequila
2 ounces triple sec
2 ounces simple syrup (see head note)
2-4 ounces fresh citrus juice, approx (1 lemon and 2 limes)

Combine and store in a pint jar in the fridge.

For an icy margarita for one: blend ½ cup of the mix with ice (keep adding ice until it’s a thick slurry) and pour into a tall glass. If you’re feeling fancy, add a slice of lime and stick a straw in it.

They (the margarita gods) say that the mix will stay good in the fridge for a week, but I think it’d last lots longer. I mean, it’s alcohol and sugar, after all — how can it go bad?

This same time, years previous: ba-BAM, pulling the pin, reverberations, a photo book, mud cake, last Sunday morning, Jeni’s chocolate ice cream, how we beat the heat.