Blood orange margaritas with rosemary salt

There so much joy to be had in rolling around on the floor.  

As we progress into adulthood, we learn to control our bodies ( to an extent), especially when out in public. Children, however, are different. They see their bodies as tools to express, things that reveal play and power using flurried hand motions and skips and dives and rolls. I see it all the time when nannying; these five and six year olds fling themselves off the playground and into the sand, allowing their bodies to make all sorts of contact with the earth. Maybe it's the excessive amount of sugar from a dunkaroo or choco-taco...who knows!! Regardless, I like it when Ashley, my yoga instructor, tells us to take happy baby. I look at my legs and toes and think "WOW, these things are COOL!" I feel like one happy baby!!

We began Ashley's class the other day by recalling something that filled us with pure joy. For her, it was a baby goat that she used to sleep with in her family's barn. For me it was a baby crane. 

Before my Ammie and Poppop died, they lived in a condo in Florida that overlooked a forest of tropical trees and a flat golf course. Their home was dusted with lemon yellow furniture and potted plants and the pantry was filled with the same staples that my father had grown up enjoying: TandyKakes, peanut butter, and english muffins. 

One year we spent our spring break at the condo. My brother and I slept in twin beds in the guest room, while my mother and father camped out on the pullout in front of a console TV. In the morning we'd have breakfast out on the veranda. Poppop would drink coffee and read the paper, his grapenuts topped with a sliced banana. I'd do the same, but swap the newspaper for a Judy Blume book. In these early hours of morning, occasionally a family of cranes would gently plow their way through the palms and the brush. The babies followed their mothers, trusting they were being led to nourishment, and opening their mouths in a hungry "KAHHH!" The orange trees held the fruits as if they were planets, floating among the green and bursting with their acidity. My brother and I would eat them and let the sweet citrus explode onto our skin. It was the definition of happy place.

Now that I am older, I still read Judy Blume and coo over baby animals, but I've found ways to adult-ify my citrus. This includes adding tequila, triple sec, and rosemary salt to blood orange juice, in order to create a beverage that feels like happy baby and vacation. Citrus is crazy in season right now, and we have about a month left, so get juicing! If you end up laying on your back, remember to admire your toes. 

blood orange margaritas 


4 ounces of blood orange juice(about 4 oranges, juiced)

4 ounces of silver tequila (i like Milagro, but you do your thing)

2 ounces of fresh lime juice (about 1 lime, juiced)

2 ounces of triple sec

1 teaspoon of agave nectar 

rosemary salt for the rim 

blood orange wedges to garnish 

rosemary sprigs to garnish 



Run a wedge of lime around the top of your serving glasss. Dip the top of the glass into the rosemary saltat a 45-degree angle and roll it from side to side to catch the salt. Add ice cubes and set aside. 

Fill a large cocktail shaker with ice. Add the tequila, triple sec, agave, and juices. Shake for 20-40 seconds and strain the liquid into the glasses. Garnish with a slice of blood orange and a sprig of rosemary, if desired.

*I got my rosemary salt from my friend Alyssa, who got it from The City Farm.  You can find a recipe here. 

-Stay cozy