There's something about the heat of summer that makes the michelada more alluring. Beer is thirst quenching on its own, for the most part, and adding lime juice and salt helps get those salivary glands going. If it's spicy enough to induce that sweaty, cooling sensation on the back of your head, all the better.
At most Dallas bars, or at least the ones I've encountered during my time here, the drink is made with bloody mary mix, which lends a heavy texture that weighs down the refreshing nature of a michelada. Better versions are found at bars that make their own mix on the fly, muddling limes in the bottom of a pint glass, adding hot sauce and arriving at a drink that is tart, spicy and effervescent. If your michelada doesn't exhibit each of those three properties, you're doing it wrong.
This green monster of a michelada served at El Bolero has plenty of tartness and heat. Tomatillos lend their requisite tang, while an aggressive addition of jalapeño will put beads of sweat on your brow. It arrives in a mason jar, with the beer that wouldn't fit during the initial pour on the bottle on the side.
It's a little intense at first, but when you drink down a few inches and top the jar off with more beer a sort of sweet spot is realized. The michelada verde becomes everything it should be and stays that way to the very last sip. It's a refreshing riff on a classic that's sometimes overlooked and often abused. It's only fault is you can't find everything you need to make one while shopping at a 7-Eleven.
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