Mostly ice, pale pink, and slightly sweet. Watermelon is a cunning fruit, which is why it occurs. When you bite into a cold wedge, it tastes amazing, but texture and water are primarily responsible for this impression. Remove the crunch, and the juice quickly becomes thinner, especially when it comes into contact with an ice-filled shaker.
A weak watermelon syrup is an almost embarrassingly simple solution that bartenders discovered years ago. Fresh watermelon juice mixed with half its volume in sugar until it dissolves, rather than a thick, cloying reduction. No simmering, no stove, and no waiting for anything to cool. You can add a full ounce or more to the drink without it becoming too sweet because the syrup is purposefully low in sugar. At last, the flavor emerges at that point.

Perhaps ten minutes of actual labor are needed to make the syrup. A few cups of ripe watermelon should be blended or muddled, the pulp should be strained out using a fine sieve, and the juice should be shaken with sugar in a mason jar until the grains are gone.
There’s something subtly satisfying about lifting the lid the following morning to discover a pool of deep pink, and some cooks prefer the slower route—chopped melon buried in sugar overnight, the fruit slowly giving up its liquid. In either case, the syrup can be stored in the refrigerator for a week or two, or about five or six cocktails if you pace yourself.
Two ounces of blanco tequila, one ounce of syrup, and three-quarters of an ounce of freshly squeezed lime make up the margarita itself. Shake vigorously with ice, then strain over newly formed cubes. There’s a good case for omitting the orange liqueur from the traditional build, but some recipes retain it and it works well. Watermelon requires as much space as possible, and Cointreau has a way of pushing past delicate flavors. Strangely enough, the melon benefits more from a pinch of salt in the shaker than from an orange.
People can voice their opinions on the rim. Traditional kosher salt is plain. The chili-lime seasoning known as tajín, which seems to have taken over every cocktail menu in recent years, gives the fruit a savory edge that works surprisingly well. If you enjoy heat, you can add some muddled fresh pepper slices or jalapeño tequila to make it sharper and more intriguing.
It’s difficult to ignore the fact that the simplest summertime drinks are typically the best. This margarita rewards you with a cocktail that truly tastes like the fruit on the label in exchange for one small bit of preparation—a jar of pink syrup that is waiting in the refrigerator. It’s another matter entirely whether visitors will leave any watermelon for the fruit salad.
