Tequila Sour

You can, but it's thick and roughly a third sweeter than simple syrup, so it slides to the bottom of the shaker instead of mixing. Cut it half and half with warm water first. It jiggers cleanly after that, and nobody gets the sweet last mouthful.

Add agave, 5 ml at a time. Cutting the lime flattens the drink rather than balancing it, since the acid is what carries tequila's pepper. Taste the juice on its own before you pour, because a late-season lime can be half again as sharp as an early one. A couple of extra seconds in the shaker helps too.

Pour 20 ml of it instead of 15, since agave is roughly a third sweeter by volume. The result is cleaner and a shade sharper, closer to a Margarita with the orange left out. What goes missing is the green, slightly earthy sweetness that comes from the same plant as the tequila.

There is nowhere for it to hide. Anything not labeled 100% de agave can be up to half cane spirit, and that reads as a solvent edge the moment lime strips the sweetness away. A mid-shelf blanco costs a few dollars more and fixes it outright.

A classic Tequila Sour calls for 60 ml (2 oz) Tequila, 22 ml (0.75 oz) Fresh lime juice, 15 ml (0.5 oz) Agave syrup. That single-serve spec scales cleanly — the recipe above converts it to oz and multiplies it for 2–4 drinks.

A standard Tequila Sour is roughly 25% ABV once mixed (before ice melt softens it further). That makes it spirit-forward — closer to a Martini than to a beer, so sip it slowly.

A Tequila Sour is shaken — the rule of thumb is to shake anything with citrus juice. About 13 seconds with plenty of ice chills and dilutes it correctly.