Mezcal | Oaxaca Part II
“Think tequila but with some smoke to it,” my friend told me over my first flight of mezcal. This was several years ago at Dove’s Luncheonette in Chicago, USA. A few church votives doubled as shot glasses filled with a clear liquid that upon sniff test confirmed that a fire had once burned whatever was inside. Trying new things is nothing new to me, so I tossed one back. To be fair, I didn’t like it. But as I have learned, mezcal is a spirit that grows on you, from the first sip you had to the last one you tried.
Mezcal is the umbrella spirit for anything that comes from agave. Not to be confused with tequila — which only uses the blue agave varietal and can be cut with water and chemicals — mezcal can be any agave, as long as the distillation is only agave. 100%, nothing more nothing less. Tequila is a mezcal, but a mezcal isn’t necessarily a tequila (and most of the time it isn’t). It is the square-rectangle argument for alcohol. And don’t ‘think tequila’ when tasting.
Known as Maguey to the locals, agave bushes run rampant across the Mexican brushland and farms. There are 200 different species of agave on Earth today, 30 being found in the state of Oaxaca. It is in this region where 70% of all the world’s mezcal comes from. The best stuff has been flourishing wild amongst other flora for the past 15 or so years, and made by the hands from maestros who are passing the recipes down to the next generation.
Over the past 10 years, desire for mezcal has quadrupled and neighbors around the world want their fix. In the US, distribution has expanded and in most bars or liquor stores, a green bottle or few of Vida de Maguey can be found on the shelves. Despite all the talk of walls, other brands are quietly finding their way across the border and into the glasses of the thirsty. What the locals drink is limited in production though and doesn’t leave the Pueblas they were made in; when you are constrained to what you can find, the number of end bottles rarely exceeds 100. It is in these small batch barrels that you can pull out the nuances of each species of agave, and taste a little bit of their history.
Called terroire by the French to describe a wine’s origin story, mezcal is a vegetable that radically takes its flavor from the ground in which it is grown. Tasting the spirit is ritualistic in order to determine all the nuances of the liquid. At Mezcaloteca, a bar that is more of a library for the local libation, the ceremony is celebrated in an almost Catholic-like christening. A strong shake of the bottle invigorates the pearls (bubbles) to investigate for alcohol purity. After being poured into a wide mouth copita (a gourd or clay cup), aromas swirl and change depending on if you whiffed with your mouth open or closed. Rubbing a drop between one’s palms warms up a new layer and dimension. A slice of orange or dish of sal de gusano (salt with dried worms) is close by to help engage or calm a palette. Quick reminder that you haven’t even put the spirit to your lips.
Deep breath.
And indulge.
The first taste is usually offensive but its real purpose is to prepare the mouth for the second sip. And it is then when the harshness disappears and distinct flavors introduce themselves. Smoke is a an easy adjective to throw at it, but sit with it a bit longer and you can feel other notes cook up. Espadin, the most common agave in the land, offers an approachable profile: smokey sure, but smooth on the nose and ending sweet. Tobalas had a fruity complexion to them. One Cuixue I had seemed to have sucked up a millennia of minerals from a local aquifer; the Madrecuixe I took in a flask has a lingering cleanliness that refreshes like a mint as you breath. And in Tepeztate, one tries to dissect the 30 years it took for the plants inside to make it to you.
The best time to plant an agave farm was 10 years ago; the second best time is to just go into the desert and see what you can find. Talking with a few owners, many consider the mezcal they make to be a byproduct of harvesting squash and corn: something on the side, but not the main hustle. When your harvest won’t reap rewards for the better part of decade, one diversifies or dies. Despite production ramping up to meet demand, the system (as it stands) is sustainable; the entire plant down to the hacked off leaves are repurposed along the way, as fertilizer or shredded into fibers that will strengthen clay bricks to expand the fermenting facilities. There is a concern that mezcal is moving towards the same industrialization that has profited and plagued tequila: in the process, agave variety will consolidate to the fastest and most resilient, while artisanal recipes will be bastardized for mass market appeal. To combat this, several mezcal maestros are doubling down on replanting agaves in the wild to ensure their supply a short eternity later. It is like a gift to their future self, and eventually, for us.
Gracias.
Major thanks to Renee of Buguvvlaia Tours for squeezing me into his van! Incredibly knowledgeable and insanely connected, he took us around a few farms and several distilleries to fully appreciate what goes into this beautiful beverage.
