Chica-Chida peanut butter tequila is the exact amount of glory and stupid I want in a shot

Welcome back to FTW’s Beverage of the Week series. Here, we mostly chronicle and review beers, but happily expand that scope to any beverage that pairs well with sports. Yes, even cookie dough whiskey.

Chica-Chida had been sitting on my liquor shelf for months. When I heard someone ask for it at my local Wisconsin dive bar, I knew it was time to call it up to the big leagues. By which I mean my mouth.

A peanut butter tequila probably serves a single purpose; as a chilled, easy-to-pound bar shot. But there's utility to that. And even beyond, if Fireball is any indication. If Chica-Chida is harsh-but-memorable then, hey, useful shooter. But if it's the kind of spirit I can pour over ice and clandestinely sip from a coffee mug while watching The Good Place reruns, even better.

Well, now you know where my head's at going into this one. Let's try it out.

As a chilled shot: A-

Let's start with Chica-Chida in its native environment. Enjoyed 1.5 ounces at a time, ice cold in a single gulp. I tend to save my shots for special occasions and Vanderbilt wins. Well, today the Commodores managed to avoid blowing a 10 point lead in the final three minutes to beat Tennessee. That counts.

My first impression after cracking the bottle is... can a drink smell loud? You're immediately overwhelmed by a creamy, Reese's Cup style peanut butter aroma that fills the air. Behind it is a light, salty-spicy vibe you may not clock as tequila on first sniff. It's minorly boozy but more feels like... well, you know when health foods try to make a peanut butter cup analog but it's a bunch of ingredients that don't quite live up to the original? That. It smells like that.

Holy moly, though, it is *easy* to drink. This 64 proof shot went down with barely an indication this is liquor. The peanut butter is generic salty sweet. True to form, it sticks a bit to the roof of your mouth after it's gone. It's a little strange, but it goes down easy. At least as easy as it is to rip a shot of Fireball, if not more so.

It's never going to replace Rumple Minze as my go-to celebratory shot, but I can understand why people would order this. It's fairly strong but tastes roughly as boozy as Rumchata with a more pleasant aftertaste. I had low expectations coming into this. Chica-Chida soared over them like a half-shaved Italian high jumper with springs in his shoes.

On ice: B

Once again you're confronted with a confusing and slightly noisy pour. But knowing Chica-Chida is actually pretty decent in shot form has calmed my concern. I'm actually very much looking forward to using this to unwind after a full day of NFL playoff coverage.

It's confusing and salty and sweet and the roasted peanuts lend a bit of a coffee liqueur vibe. This is not a bad thing. It's a kinda great thing, because I could easily see myself plowing through the bulk of a bottle during March Madness. Which, admittedly, is probably a bad thing because a spirit this sweet probably has enough sugar in it to leave me with a truly dreadful hangover.

Well, for now it's sweet and sippable and probably a little too much of the former category to be something I'd drink more than three or four of.

Would I drink it instead of a Hamm's?

This a pass/fail mechanism where I compare whatever I’m drinking to my baseline cheap beer. That’s the standby from the land of sky-blue waters, Hamm’s. So the question to answer is: on a typical day, would I drink Chica-Chida over a cold can of Hamm’s?

I would rip a shot of Chica-Chida, then chase it with the Hamm's. Though, admittedly, you don't need a chaser for this one. Honestly, the sugar fatigue would get me before the alcohol content does, so there's a limit on how many I could have -- but this is a wonderful spirit no one should think about for more than a few seconds.

This article originally appeared on For The Win: Chica-Chida review: A very dumb, very tasty peanut butter tequila