By George Mahe
Photograph by Katherine Bish
Rarely are the phrases “he’s 21” and “he gets it” used in the same sentence. But that’s the least you can say about third-generation restaurateur and tequilero Coby Arzola, grandson of Chuy Arzola, proprietor of Chuy’s in Dogtown. Plenty of knowledgeable young chefs are around, but few are tequila masters. Late this summer, St. Louis will get its first tequileria, aptly named Agave Mexican Table and Tequileria. (Yes, they’ll also serve food.) If you had given up on finding the perfect margarita—or even a respectable one—the search may be over.
Let’s get right to it: Why are there no good margaritas in this city? It comes down to the components. And ratios. And with so many restaurants making them ahead of time, in mass quantities, it has gotten out of whack.
You mean you won’t be pouring your margs out of bar taps? Uh ... no. They’ll come from a shaker, not a giant plastic bucket. They’ll all be made by hand, using classic ingredients.
Like gold tequila, Grand Marnier and fresh lime juice? No gold tequila. In [the Mexican state of] Jalisco, the aged tequilas are blended by craftsmen and made to be cherished alone, not in a drink. So we’ll use a clean, white tequila; fresh lime juice; a bit of GranGala, the perfect triple-orange liqueur; and most importantly, some agave syrup to add sweetness.
Sounds different already. All that in your house margarita? With a name like Agave, it had better be good. We’ll also have a special marg, made with a seasonal muddled fruit, as well as our signature version that’s rimmed in red-chile salt and contains a bit of tamarind pulp.
That’s an odd choice. In Asian, Indian and Aztec cooking, tamarind’s used to accentuate fruit flavors, particularly sweet and sour flavors, which makes it the perfect complement for a margarita.
You convinced me. Did you learn all this in tequilero school? There is no professional school, really, no University of Tequila—
Sure there is. I think I went there. I spent many months in Jalisco, talking and working with small-batch distillers and artisans, learning the subtleties of the centuries-old methods. Tequilero is a distinction you earn among your peers. At Agave, I plan to teach what I have learned.
How so? We will pair regional dishes to specific tequilas and tequila drinks. The spices in our red-chile scallops complement the sugars in a blanco tequila, for example, while a marinated rib-eye would be better suited to the oakiness of a reposado.
Agave plans to take us “WAY beyond the burrito.” Where are we going exactly? We will feature the specialties of western Mexico. So no burritos, no chalupas, no enchiladas, but rather their first cousins: stuffed chiles, smoked-meat carnitas, tortas, birras, posoles. There are plenty of great burrito places—we own one of them—but we think it’s time for an entirely different experience. We won’t even serve tortilla chips.
Whoa.
There are no chips in Guadalajara. We will serve hand-made tostadas with seasonally based salsas, red-pepper tapenades, etc. Trust me—you won’t miss the chips.
Do you partake of, ahem, Mexican fast food? Quite frankly, I can make it better at my apartment, and almost as fast.
Yeah, but is your apartment open late? No. But Agave will be.
