Seems the drink du jour in the media these days is the michelada. Aside from the beauty shot in this month’s GQ, there’s equally mouthwatering references on pretty much all my favorite boozy blogs:
- MattBites finds it the only way to enjoy his cerveza;
- Sloshed! sampled three different beers just to be thorough;
- The Spirit World eyes a couple alternative preparations;
- Anita at Married …with Dinner delved into its history last Turkey Day; and
- Camper was way ahead of the curve, calling this drink’s rising star fully two years ago, and is now on a campaign to bring it back as a brunch favorite.
The timing was good. With an upcoming visit to the in-laws in Kentucky (where we are now) this struck me as the perfect beverage to ply on less-than-experimental palates. With an ingredient list of un-scary and familiar ingredients — Mexican beer, lime, Worcestershire and Tabasco, basically — it promised nothing less than refreshing goodness for the inevitable hot, muggy days.
Alas, my cool micheladas were met with a tepid response. No one — including DPaul — liked the flavor the Worcestershire sauce imparted. To which I say, ¡más micheladas para mí! Personally, I thought the balance of sour-salty-hot was perfectly delicious, and certainly slapped a hearty coat of red lipstick on the Corona pig. It’s a quaffable, refreshing brew that I could happily kick back more than a couple of on a sultry afternoon. Still, I will admit it pays to have a light hand with the Worcestershire.
I look forward to trying this again with Negro Modelo, my preferred Mexican beer. I would have used it this time, but our options out here in the wilds of Kentucky are … limited. And for DPaul, I’ll just pull back on the Worcestershire and Tabasco for the classic chelada. (Actually, he rather liked the Tabasco. So does that make it a semichelada?)
1 bottle Mexican beer (Corona, Pacifico, Bohemia or Negro Modelo, for example)
juice of 1-2 limes
1 scant dash Worcestershire sauce
2-3 dashes Tabasco
Plenty of ice
Salt the rim of a highball or beer mug. Fill halfway with ice, and add the lime juice, Worcestershire and Tabasco. Pour the beer over; it will foam copiously at first. Give a quick stir to combine. For a chelada, simply omit the Tabasco and Worcestershire.
You’ll notice I didn’t salt the rim of the glass. Given the fine crystal we were using, I’m sure you’ll understand why.
One year ago today … Damn, those Le Creuset pans are heavy!