DCist previously pointed out while examining the mini burger, that the more widespread something becomes, the more it is abused, mistreated, and re-interpreted, until what’s left is a meager refection on its past greatness. Another perfect example of this atrocity of commercialization is the Margarita. We’ve already sent out the troops looking for the best Mojito. We’ve also gathered ranks in the quest for the finest Bloody Mary, but we will save ourselves from unnecessary drunken wonderings in search of the greatest margarita, because we already know where it is.

Our house.

For it is in this location that the Margarita is broken down to its true essence. Tequila joins citrus flavors in a matrimony that is anything but holy. Too many of these and you’ll be lucky if you can even remember your sins. Save the sugars, syrups, mixes, slushee machines, swirls, and mangos for your next trip to Lauriol Plaza. When you are in your own home, you should settle for nothing less than a pefect margarita.