You may have noticed I haven’t been around lately…or maybe you haven’t! I don’t know how I feel about that. I haven’t posted for over a month and no one sent an email or a comment or a text to see if I was still alive. I could have been lying in a ditch, dead from a horrible hiking accident – although I guess if I was dead from a horrible hiking accident, I probably wouldn’t be in a ditch. That wouldn’t say much about my hiking skills if I was just walking along a road or through a field and I up and fell into a ditch. And even if I did fall into a ditch, I can’t imagine it would kill me – I might get wet if there was water in there or I might twist an ankle or a knee if I was especially clumsy – but dead? Probably not – unless I drowned or I could not walk on my injured ankle or knee and just laid in the ditch until I was dead from hunger and thirst – all because you didn’t tweet or post on Facebook wondering about my whereabouts, so there was no outpouring of concern and support, no search parties were organized, and my body wouldn’t have been discovered until a hungry coyote gnawed off my arm and tried to drag it to home to her pups, but dropped it on a busy road while she was trying to dodge assholes who drive like maniacs and don’t slow down for an emaciated coyote trying to carry a grisly load. Poor coyote – another death to add to your guilty conscience!
I’m happy to report that I am not dead! But I’ve been busy – so busy – and it’s all because I love margaritas.
Let me explain.
My friends introduced me to prickly pear margaritas a couple of years ago. Up until then, I was strictly a strawberry margarita girl – I didn’t even know that prickly pear margaritas existed…or that they were delicious. Then, last year, the same friends posted on Facebook that they had made their own prickly pear syrup – from scratch! They even included pictures of themselves enjoying the delightful elixir in margaritas and other alcoholic concoctions – but I was not invited to imbibe. I was sad and let them know that next time they made prickly pear syrup, I wanted to be included (and have a drink or two). They graciously agreed – or I may have bullied them into it – but either way, they were gracious.
So this year, while I was out hiking in the desert, I noticed that the prickly pear cacti were producing fruit like crazy! This made me want to pluck the pears right there, but I decided to wait when I saw the cactus spines in my fellow hiker’s hands (they unintentionally grabbed the cactus to prevent a catastrophic fall down the mountainside to their certain doom – now THAT’S the way to die while hiking!)
Just in case you didn’t know — this is a prickly pear cactus.
When I got home, I broke out my five-gallon bucket and a pair of tongs — and I went prickly-pearing. Before I knew it, I had filled the entire bucket with the claret colored fruit. By the way, the fruit are called “tunas” — don’t ask me why. People give you very strange looks when you live in the desert and tell them you are going to go pick some tunas so you can have some margaritas.
Thanks to my prickly pear margarita drinking friends, I knew I had to burn the prickles off the fruit. It not the long, easy to see spines that you have to watch out for – it is those tiny, hair-like pokies that are lurking, just waiting for the opportunity to bury themselves into your fingers or hand. They are nearly impossible to pull back out and seem to burrow under your skin, ready to shoot lightning strikes of pain shooting if you are so audacious as to pick up anything ever again.
My son let me use his blowtorch. Why my son has a blowtorch, I don’t know (and I’m not sure I want to know).
The fruit gets a delightful shine as you singe the shit out of it. However, watch your grip! Those suckers love to jump out of the tongs and fly across the room and the juices stain anything they come into contact with. There is a reason that Native Americans used the juice as a dye.
Rinse off the tunas and maybe give them a little scrub, just in case some especially sneaky prickles escaped the bonfire. Then dump a bunch into your blender or food processor and give them a whirl!
Basically, you want to puree the fruit until its smooth and looks like something that might be found at a murder scene.
Pour that carnage into a strainer that is set over a bowl and then stir it around for a while until the juice is in the bowl and the pulp is left behind in the strainer. Don’t feel bad for the pulp – it did it’s job and you can always throw it into the compost bin if you are so inclined.
Watch the splatter!
If you’re not a perfectionist, you can call it a day a mix up a perfectly acceptable margarita right now. If you’re on the anal side (like me) then you’ll want to strain the juice again – this time through cheesecloth or a paper towel – to get rid of any remaining sediment.
Ahh – much better! Now you’re left with a beautiful jewel-colored liquid that can be frozen or refrigerated for a couple of weeks. But I take it a step further (because I’m an over-achiever).
Prickly pear is sweet – it tastes like a cross between watermelon and bubblegum (which actually is much better than it sounds), but it has almost no acid. It tastes even better if it has a little tang from lemon juice or citric acid (you can use Fruit Fresh, which is sold at any grocery store). I pour about six cups of the juice into a saucepan, add the juice of a lemon or two (or a tablespoon or so of citric acid) and some sugar. Hold onto your hat – it seems like a LOT of sugar. One cup for every cup of liquid, but it works! Stir it in, heat it up, and let it simmer for about 10-15 minutes. This will make a thin, simple syrup that is perfect for drizzling on vanilla ice cream, over pancakes, or – of course – for making delicious margaritas!
I make mine this way:
2 ounces tequila, 1 ounce triple sec or Cointreau, 1.5 ounces lime juice, and 2 ounces prickly pear syrup. Mix it up in a blender and serve over ice in a salt or sugar rimmed glass. If you’re in the mood for a frozen margarita, just freeze some of the syrup in ice cube trays and use them along with a bit of ice.
Have one or two — or three — or four if you don’t have to go to work in the morning.
I harvested prickly pear three more times after the first go round and made a shit-ton of syrup. I even bought some cute little mason jars and canned four dozen bottles of prickly pear syrups to last through the long winter months ahead. I rather feel like an accomplished pioneer woman — who likes to drink…a lot.
Oh my god you’re my spirit animal. I just noticed the tunas (as they say) were ripe up here in CO and I have decided I need to go picking… NOW I have a recipe. MWAHAHAHAH. I can’t wait.
I had a surprise with a half-bucket worth of tunas – they were large and magenta colored and I happily picked every one from the cactus – but when I got home I found them to be sour instead of sweet. I also noticed with another batch that the pears from one cactus were sweeter than those from another. I would recommend taking your blowtorch (or other implement of fiery destruction) and a knife with you when you go prickly-pearing. That way, you can cut into one to make sure it is up to par before harvesting from that particular cactus. The good news is that if you’re making syrup, the sugar sweetens up the juice, so even if it is a bit bland or on the sour side, at the end it still tastes delicious. If you don’t yet have a blowtorch, you can always rub the tuna in the sand (apparently, that is what the Native Americans did to clean the prickles off).
Ha! I’ve been watching your hiking pics on fb and enjoying the mountain scenery. I’m glad you strain the pulp because what if you MISS a tiny spine, and then try to drink it? THAT would be a horrid way to die – by margarita spine!
I can’t even imagine! Despite my best efforts, a few of the tunas managed to take their revenge on my fingers (in fact, there is still a tiny spine in one finger that I’m hoping will find its way out before too long) and those suckers hurt! Getting one in your lip or throat would be horrid!
I may have to revise my advice to Laurie – don’t rub the tunas in the sand! Blowtorch the shit out of those suckers before you try them.
Ohhh OW! OW! OW! Jana! That SUCKS. Spines sound just awful. Maybe you should get drunk! And…we don’t have them here, so it’s not a problem I’ll face, but they sound yummy, so I’d kinda like to.
I’ve missed you terribly! And what if you fell into a ditch full of vipers..that would kill you. Probably.
I also want a drink and it’s 6:42 in the morning.
I’ve missed you, too! Not only was I not writing, but I wasn’t reading my favorite blogs either! By the way, I have an excellent recipe for a drink called “Grapefruit Crush” – basically it’s grapefruit juice, grapefruit vodka, and a bit of Sprite or 7up for bubbles. I think that would be an entirely acceptable breakfast beverage!
I’m pretty sure you weren’t invited to the first prickly pear party because you were dead. We didn’t think to invite you to the wake but I wish we had served these. Yum! Glad you are risen and have been so productive in your absence.
Being dead does have a way of hindering one’s social life. Unless you’re the dead guy in the movie “Weekend at Bernie’s” (I guess the dead guy would be Bernie?) He seemed to be the life of all the parties when he was dead.
I’LL BE RIGHT ON DOWN!!!
(I’m heartbroken bcz former neighbors had beautiful stand of prickley pear at their gate, but new neighbors ripped it all out!!??!! Even worse, my husband LOANED THEM MACHETES to get started – remind me to post the Machete Girls story!!!)
& sorry – I figured you’ve just been horrendously BUSY, like me…
(Also obviously failed to post link to my new blog correctly but I’ll fix later)
There, I’m anal about LINKS THAT WORK CORRECTLY…
Gasp! You are cactus killing accomplice? I can’t fault your neighbors entirely – prickly pears are not really friendly landscaping plants – but the thought of having a prickly pear right on my property and not having to roam the valley searching for wild or abandoned prickly pears makes me giddy. And now I want to hear the Machete Girls story – get to writing!
I’m not good with the tech, and my email doesn’t seem to want to do anything, lately, but I have checked this blog almost every day to see if you had a new post!
Oh, Dana – this nearly brought a tear to my eye!! That is so sweet that you check on my blog often to see if there is a new story. I’ll try to do better about posting. I think I only posted one story in September and then none in October. I can barely call myself a writer at this point!
I just wanted you to know that I care, even though my techlessness doesn’t let me communicate all those other ways, you mentioned in the post!
I’m just now realizing we never got around to making said delicious margaritas when I was home last! Save some syrup for Christmas!
Don’t worry — I’ve got plenty! We can stay perpetually tipsy throughout your visit if you want 🙂
How far is Albuquerque from Denver? I need to come over. This looks amazing. But I am WAY too lazy to blowtorch my cocktails.
About 7 hours or so (depending on weather and how fast you drive). If you guys ever want to make a road trip, I have a guest room and plenty of liquor! Bring Zola — my cats would love her 🙂
Hi Jana: Like Lizzi we’ve been watching your hiking ventures and beautiful pics and figured you were on a walk-about. lol How’s the coyote by the way? 😉 Okay…as for the Prickly Pear Margarita’s holy shit!!! That sounds freaking delish!! I can’t wait to show Inion this. She seen Prickly Pears used on the cooking show Chopped and fell in love with them. We can’t get them here so we’ll have to head to your place for a girls margarita night. Love the pics and sharing them now!! 😉 xoxo
You girls have an open invitation to come drinking at my place! Just holler next time you’re in New Mexico!
I’m not a huge fan of tequila (hope we can still be friends) but thanks for the tutorial on getting the fruit because I’d love to make jelly out of it. I hadn’t heard of these little tuna things either until I moved to AZ this year.
Of course we can be friends! I’m not a fan of jelly — but for prickly pear jelly, I might make an exception.