In my past life as a Californian, there was nothing better on a hot day than a pool, some friends, and an ice-cold margarita in my hand. Well, in Seattle, we don’t get many oppressively hot days, but that doesn’t mean that my love for a margarita (on the rocks, of course) has decreased. But now I do have to look a little harder to find a good one. (Also, now I wear sweaters while I drink them. Que sera.) Or at...
