It's Ranch Water, Don't Overthink It
How to enjoy the iconic West Texas tequila highball that's increasingly everywhere.
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The legend behind the birth of Ranch Water — the simple blend of tequila, lime juice, and fizzy Topo Chico mineral water that Texans have enjoyed for decades — goes something like this: In the 1960s, a “wild-haired rancher” in the far West Texas town of Fort Davis concocted the first such drink and, inspired by its “spirit,” followed the stars all the way to the town of Marathon some 50 miles away, where he was later found sleeping beneath a piñon tree.
A less apocryphal origin story would likely note that Texas is hot and far West Texas hotter still, and that the marriage of three readily available complementary ingredients into a refreshing sundowner may have been inevitable. Bracing, cold, wildly effervescent, and invigorating, Ranch Water is an ideal mixed drink for summer’s most merciless days. For decades, however, those 50 miles traveled between Fort Davis and Marathon represented a really long trip for Ranch Water and its attendant lore. Embraced widely in West Texas as a quick and easy highball twist on what’s basically a Margarita, the regionally-iconic drink remained a curiosity beyond the arid scrublands of Big Bend and the Rio Grande Valley.
A particularly bubbly, mineral-rich water bottled outside of Monterrey Mexico since 1895 and long a fixture in Texas beverage culture, Topo Chico’s scarce availability in the U.S. long constrained Ranch Water’s proliferation even as the drink grew popular across Texas over the last decade. The water’s high mineral content and unrivaled effervescence provide the counterweight to tequila’s spiced earthiness, and purists will tell you that without it you’re simply drinking a lime-heavy tequila soda (and they’re correct). Substitutes simply aren’t tolerated, and a paucity of Topo outside the Lone Star State ensured Ranch Water remained a regionally-iconic Texas delicacy.
A $220 million dollar acquisition of Topo Chico by Coca-Cola in 2017 changed all that. While Coca-Cola slowly scaled up distribution of Topo in the intervening years in an effort to protect its cult-favorite status, it’s now available from the Hamptons to Honolulu. And where Topo goes, Ranch Water mania tends to follow.
Why this matters: When drinks go mainstream, the consequences can be both beautiful and disappointing. Texans protested and even boycotted the absorption of Topo Chico into Coca-Cola’s vast beverage empire (though for expat Texans such as myself, the news of wider distribution of a beloved fridge staple was quietly celebrated despite the overt attempt to give Topo Chico the La Croix treatment). And more than a few Texans have lamented the loss of the cultish, only-in-Texas status that both Topo Chico and Ranch Water enjoyed prior to each becoming nationwide phenomena.
But the real affront to Ranch Water has come via the arrival to market of several canned, ready-to-drink (RTD) versions of a beloved beverage that is, by its very nature, very ready to drink.
I personally discovered Ranch Water several years ago in the same way all uninitiated drinkers discovered Ranch Water in those days: sitting in a bar in far West Texas. I had my first at Marfa’s legendary Lost Horse Saloon while chatting idly with the equally legendary then-owner Ty Mitchell and marveling at the utter simplicity of the beverage on the bar before me — an ice-filled pint glass containing a heavy pour of blanco tequila and a roughly equal pour of lime juice, topped with Topo Chico. It wasn’t complex, and it certainly wasn’t sophisticated. But it was delicious, and proved the perfect way to cut through the mid-day Marfa heat.
The one I had a couple of days later at Marathon’s historic Gage Hotel — whose famed White Buffalo Bar may have been the first to officially list Ranch Water on a menu back in 2010, though patrons had been ordering it by name for years — was a bit different. The addition of orange liqueur brought everything into a slightly tighter balance.
Most modern recipes follow some loose (emphasis on the “loose”) variation of the formula established here; two parts tequila to one part each fresh lime juice and orange liqueur, topped with Topo Chico. The liqueur is optional and the ratio of lime to tequila can vary as well. It’s typical to serve the remaining Topo in the bottle alongside the drink so it can be topped up at the drinker’s discretion. The room for tinkering with ratios and for making the Ranch Water one’s own is as vast as the West Texas sky. Designed with simplicity and freshness in mind, it quite literally comes together in less than a minute.
All this begs the question: If Ranch Water is already so ready to drink, why complicate this elegantly simple beverage by refashioning it as a canned RTD cocktail that in most cases contains neither tequila nor Topo Chico (and is therefore not actually a Ranch Water)?
We could ask a similar question of many RTD cocktails, but in the case of Ranch Water this violation feels particularly searing. Complicating a beverage that by design is so simple to make and enjoy that it doesn’t even require you to have a glass on hand (see below) violates its very spirit. Never mind the fact that most of these RTD pretenders — including the one recently purchased by Diageo for an undisclosed sum that will soon be distributed as widely as Topo Chico under the “Ranch Water” brand name — tend to register as less-than pleasurable on the palate.
For the uninitiated, trust me, Ranch Water is coming to a dive bar or barbecue near you this summer (if it hasn’t already), and a growing number of canned “Ranch Water” six-packs will land on supermarket shelves across the U.S. in kind. We don’t begrudge beverage companies their attempts to sell products, but don’t let the latter shape your idea of what Ranch Water is or should be.
Instead, do the following: Juice an absolute shit ton of limes. How many do you have? It doesn’t matter, juice them all into some kind of container, preferably something with a lid. Add an amount of orange liqueur equal to your lime juice, doubling the mixture’s volume (we like Cointreau, but Patron Citrónge or whatever Triple Sec you have kicking around the cabinet works as well). Upturn a bottle of tequila (El Tesoro Reposado is highly recommended) and pour until the volume doubles again. You’ve now got a batch of Ranch Water starter that will keep fantastically in the cooler or fridge.
When you’re ready to serve, just pour out a couple of ounces (or three?) into a glass, add ice, and top up with Topo. Or do it tailgate style and take a couple of big sips from a 12-ounce Topo to clear some headroom in the top of the bottle. Pour in a desired volume of your tequila/lime mix and you’ve got Ranch Water to go. Adjust any of the above steps to suit your taste or your available ingredients (except the Topo; that’s non-negotiable). Experiment with different tequilas, liqueurs, ratios, and serving vessels until you’ve found something that fires on all cylinders for you personally.
Whatever you do, don’t let anyone tell you they've made a hyper-convenient drink even more convenient by complicating its recipe and stripping out the very ingredients that give it its identity. You won’t end up with a better drink, and there’s a fair chance you won’t even be drinking Ranch Water, no matter what’s written on the side of the can. —CD
The 150-Word Endorsement
Mezcal Amarás Cupreata ($60) Mezcal Amarás just snared a Best in Show accolade at the San Francisco World Spirits Competition (alongside a Double Gold Medal), and those who have managed to track down a bottle of its Cupreata expression won’t find that surprising in the least. Cupreata agaves produce less sugar – and therefore less mezcal per volume of agave — than more commonly-distilled varieties like Espadín. As a result, you don’t see as much of it on the shelf. That’s unfortunate for consumers, because Cupreata mezcals like this one truly stretch our perceptions of what different agaves can achieve in the hands of a capable maestro mezcalero. Powerful, herbaceous, bright, and peppery, Mezcal Amarás Cupreata captures both the less-explored terroir of Guerrero State and the rarer, richer flavor notes imparted by Cupreata agave. Don’t fight the urge to swap this into a Negroni. At this very attractive price point, you can afford to experiment. —CD
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