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My grandfather’s tequila

Yes, I remember him so well, every time I think about him I can feel his particular smell, this combination between lotion and tequila. He loved tequila, I remember that in every family wedding, meeting, or celebration he was always with it. Nowadays I can picture this image of him and my grandmother. I was a small kid when he passed away, I remember that day so clearly. But now I can realize all the learnings he thought me. I remember him as a strong and serious man, forcing me to learn to ride. First I was always carried with him in his great brown horse and wandered into the huge ranch. I love the ranch, it reminds me so much of him and the smell of wood and tequila. All the weekends I spent in Valle de Bravo were special, each one was a new adventure for me, a new attempt to discover something different in the woods. He was extremely strict, I could say he was one of the strictest people I’ve ever met. Their ways of teaching were not the best, being realistic. I was pressured a lot, but I think that at the end it worked. Now every time I ride through the valley I remember it. This great man. I can clearly remember the bottle of tequila he liked. Always at the family meals, he took out his tequila and served himself, in a small glass called “caballitos”. I could see how he enjoyed every sip. Trying to enjoy every inch of taste the tequila offered. Herradura, was the favorite tequila of my grandfather, the bottle was so unique.  

I remember walking into the kitchen, and feeling a clear and delicious smell of rice, I think it is the best rice in the world, for me it was a magic rice cooked by my grandmother. The kitchen was so so special, we spent a full day in there, cooking, chatting, playing, and having fun. This kitchen always smelled delicious, I remember always opening the refrigerator and finding gelatin, or ice cream. I was seriously happy. On one side of the kitchen was the bar, this bar full of bottles, too many so different bottles, all kinds of colors and sizes. But I remember well his bottles of Herradura. Always at the bottom of the bar, my grandfather kept in small doors the tequila. He always had more than one. In the bar 

we spent hours playing dominoes, this was another of his teachings, playing dominoes made the time pass so quickly. I remember it well. And I miss him.