Tequila and I are not the best of friends. We had a major falling out years ago when I was in my early 20s. Before that, I’d been happy to guzzle margaritas and shots until the wee hours. I was, you could say, a fan of the quintessential Mexican spirit and loved the flavour of the spiky agave plant it’s distilled from.

But then one day I had a bit too much Jose Cuervo and – well, I think you can guess what happened. Ever since, just one sniff of that sweet, sweet liquid and I blanch. (And don’t get me started on mezcal. Shudder.)