There always is a wait, the staff isn't the friendliest, and the food is hot enough to burn every single taste bud from your tongue, but we keep finding our way back to the patio of this South Phoenix hot spot for its kick-ass house margarita. It isn't infused with lavender, there isn't a trace of rosewater, and the tequila hasn't been blessed by a holy donkey from the depths of Mexico, but the housemade margs deliver with a not-too-sweet, perfectly sour base blended nicely with puree of real strawberries, raspberries, and limes. As for the tequila — there's enough of it in these suckers to literally put you on your ass after just one. You think we're joking — let's see if you can remember your dinner after two.