This tequila was not a shot of love

Much of one's first experiences with tequila are regrettable if not criminal. It was that insufferable midpoint of a frat-boy ritual that involved licking salt off your person (or someone else's; see regrettable) and sucking on a lemon.

The tequila itself was to be endured heroically, like the Greek brand left on your arse from an engraved wooden fraternity paddle. Thank you sir -- may i have another?

Later tequila became a tolerable ingredient in a margarita, but the thought of sipping it was akin to caning oneself.

But with all liquors of heritage, there is the good stuff, or at least the exorbitantly priced stuff.

In my case, I was introduced to Patron when Mrs. McDrinkerson gifted me a bottle. Specifically, she gave me Patron Anejo, which is aged three years in oak barrels.

While light years ahead of Cuervo, it's still tequila. And I'm just not that crazy about sipping tequila. Patron doesn't have that sawdust taste of Cuervo, but it is woodsy. And having previously tried Patron Silver, I can think I can say that I prefer my tequila without the wood.

Ultimately, I liked it. But I didn't love it. And at more than 50 clams a bottle, I need to feel the love if I'm going to pick up another bottle.