 Fortunato Hernández, San Baltazar Chichicapam Alvin Starkman, M.A., J.D. Over the past 15 years, perhaps less, there has been a significant change which has gone largely unnoticed, in the self-esteem, psyche, and spirit in distillers and their family members throughout the state of Oaxaca. Visitors who come to Oaxaca for the purpose of sampling and buying mezcal, for learning about the culture of palenqueros and their families, and for a plethora of other reasons, periodically comment on changes observed over the past several years. Things are rather different today from what they experienced on an earlier visit or from what they have been told. But the one profound change is simply not acknowledged, even by those who regularly visit.  Felix Ángeles Arellanes, Santa Catarina Minas One of the two differences which does jump out is prices charged for mezcal in the villages near the city of Oaxaca. A dozen years ago a liter of espadín cost as little as 20 pesos, and now it’s upwards of 300 pesos. The other main difference upon which many of the clients of our Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca comment, is in the installations at the palenques: more ovens, stills and fermentation vats; added and up-graded distillation and bottling facilities; relatively modern and/or updated concrete homes where previously much more simple adobe abodes existed; and newer vehicles (while some are still car-less).  At the palenque of Manuel Méndez, San Dionisio Ocotepec That’s all fine, and certainly welcomed by the families of palenqueros, but it’s merely “stuff.” A much more important change has begun to take hold, and it’s rather apparent. Material possessions can do only so much for the soul of a people.  Juana Mateo serving aguamiel, Santiago Matatlán Prior to the mid-1990s’ commencement of what I term the modern era of mezcal, very few people were interested in the agave distillate. In the US that gut-wrenching hooch was drunk mainly in shots, by youths who couldn´t afford anything better, with all manner of myth about who gets the worm. In urban Mexico it was shunned, a drink for poor village folk. Then the pilgrimage began.  Victoria Ramírez illustrating ABV, San Baltazar Chichicapam Along with those wanting to learn, buy and sample, came the rest; the entrepreneurs interested in starting their own brands, the professional photographers, the documentary film makers and other media sorts. And so a transformation began, not merely bringing more revenue into family coffers, but something much more profound and “needed,” I would suggest; a dramatic change in the self-esteem and sense of self-worth of the palenqueros, their partners, sons, daughters, parents and grandparents.  Estela Hernández' home with a group of mezcal aficionados, San Baltazar Chichicapam Although my introduction to the world of mezcal began with my travels to the state in the late 1960s, I must confess that my memory of visits to palenques and to the homes of the makers of mezcal is vague at best. But my witnessing of the noted metamorphosis, beginning in the early 1990s, does indeed afford me an opportunity to comment on change ushered in which began in earnest with the beginning of mezcal’s modern era.  Reina Sánchez, Distrito de Miahuatlán In previous years, palenqueros and their family members were extremely meek, modest, and at times interacting with visitors from abroad with literally their heads bowed down. It was as if they were close to being embarrassed about what they did for a living; “try it, I have two or three kinds of mezcal which might interest you.” Not now!  Cutting an 1,100 pound arroqueño (Agave americana oaxaquensis), Santa Catarina Minas Today there’s a rather discernable sense of self-pride in their craft, in how they make their distillate. Even without a request being made they are anxious to illustrate each stage of production. There is a sense of self-worth, and confidence that you will want to learn from them and have them and their partners and their children have you sample their mezcal.  In the process of making a hand-stitched tortillera, Distrito de Zimatlán Of course, each distiller wants to make a sale. But now there’s something more, in their affect, in their interactions with those from outside of their world. Heads are now high, smiles peak through, “come and let me show you this.” If you buy, that’s great, but if not, the palenquero has nevertheless obtained something equally if not more important to him and his family members, a shot in the arm of self-respect, dignity, and sense of worth which money cannot buy.  Santos Martínez, San Lorenzo Albarradas And now, when the photographer shows up at the palenque, there’s no longer the retort that he doesn’t want his soul to be stolen. He wants to be pictured online and in magazines. He wants to be one of the subjects in a documentary.  Rodolfo López Sosa, San Juan del Río I personally detect the pride, the enthusiasm, the courageousness, all shining through at every turn; perhaps not as much when interacting with middle class urban Mexicans who in recent memory would not even venture into the villages beyond just passing through along a highway to somewhere else. But still, even then, there’s a glimmer of difference in self-image, as if to say “now what do you think about what I do.”  At the palenque of Lencho García & son Silverio, Rancho Blanco Güilá And so come for a visit to rural Oaxaca armed with cameras and video equipment. Don’t feel like you are intruding into their worlds and will be perceived as mere gawkers; nor embarrassed that you might not buy enough or any at all. Understand that you’re doing your part to help the palenquero and his family. Money buys a little, but more importantly, sampling agave distillates from the source is like serving chicken soup … it’s good for the soul.
Alvin Starkman operates Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca (www.mezcaleducationaltours.com). He and Spike Mafford, photographer, collaborated on the recently published book, Mezcal in the Global Spirits Market: Unrivalled Complexity, Innumerable Nuances, Third Expanded Edition with Portraits.
1 Comment
 Alvin Starkman, M.A., J.D. A movement has recently begun in American mezcal bars, and restaurants with a decent complement of agave distillates. They are dramatically reducing or almost entirely deleting mezcal cocktails from their menus. (And some ardent mezcal fans are also against the mezcal cocktail craze.) The storyline goes something like “mezcal cocktails inhibit our ability to promote the distillate as a fine and diverse sipping spirit, so in order to promote mezcal the way we want to do it, we’re going to restrict the number of mezcal cocktails we’re offering.” A case, however, can be made for this way of thinking, and acting, doing more harm than good. A decade ago a colleague who is an accomplished author, retailer, and “mezcal expert,” wrote that “cocktails are the fanciest manner to degrade mezcal.” But he has changed his tune, thankfully, and in fact has been known to hold the odd cocktail evening at his outlet in the city of Oaxaca. He lives in the city. The cocktail critics by and large do not live here in Oaxaca, and simply lack a comprehensive understanding of the importance for the state of the continued growth of interest in mezcal cocktails. By contrast, my fellow enthusiast and many others who live here, get it.  Oaxaca is one of the poorest states in Mexico, with agriculture and tourism being virtually the only industries. But the mezcal boom, which began in earnest about a decade ago, has witnessed a dramatic increase in visitors to the state wanting to learn about the spirit, start their own brands, and document the industry in photos and in film. For those of us who live here and venture into the mezcal-producing villages, we see what the change that the dramatic increase in revenue for the state as a consequence of the boom, has meant for the distillers and their families; village roads paved, schools built, homes and palenques expanded, etc. More sales of mezcal means more income accruing to the villages; whether served neat to those wanting to experience and savor the broad range of aromas, flavors and finishes derived from the myriad of different subspecies and the plethora of factors impacting each batch, or, dare I suggest, “simply” used in cocktails. All this means is more income accruing to the villages.  The more consumers hear the word mezcal spoken, or read the word on a cocktail menu, the more their interest piques. They want to learn more, and perhaps visit Oaxaca thereby dropping their sometimes-hard-earned dollars in the state. Tourism in Oaxaca is characterized by peaks and valleys. But mezcal tourism is a different animal; it keeps rising despite US State Department warnings and sensationalistic journalists’ articles. Increase in hotel bookings, restaurant patrons, craft sales, are all part of the economy lifted via promotion of the agave distillate.  Let’s assume the cocktail naysayers have a point. So why not offer mezcal cocktails made with mezcals other than Del Maguey Vida. Don’t get me wrong, I say to Ron Cooper, Pernod Ricard and the others currently or in the recent past involved with the brand; your product has an important place in the industry. But if a bar is interested in bottom line, why not increase the complement of agave cocktails offered by adding other “economical” entry level mezcals to the cocktail menu, since each is different from the next. Doing so serves two functions. Firstly, it gives patrons options. Secondly, it helps to educate the non-aficionados about mezcal diversity, even if they are “blends,” using the common non-traditional-mezcal parlance of the term. Better yet, if you really want to educate the public about mezcal as a fine sipping spirit, treat mezcal as any other ingredient in a cocktail:
 The critics’ answer is the cost of a tepeztate or a jabalí as compared to a blended espadín. I have enough confidence in the public to believe that over time people will learn the benefit of careful mezcal selection in producing a high-quality cocktail. Consumers will detect the difference, pay for that difference (there’s lots of money out there), while at the same time come to understand mezcal’s unbridled diversity.  Another way to promote mezcal in mezcalerías, bars and Mexican restaurants, without diminishing the complement of agave distillate concoctions, is to have a comprehensive training program for staff, whereby they are taught how to promote the spirit with just a few brief sentences in the course of serving cocktails. Perhaps even give away a half-ounce sample when interest in mezcal is expressed by a patron. The bottom line of the business will surely improve by providing such value-added service and that little perk of a gratuitous sample.  Hold events if you want to more broadly promote the spirit. Be a little altruistic and don’t worry about not making money one evening per month, or on the day of the week that your establishment is closed.  Epilogue
Pisco is a spirit distilled in mainly Peru, from fermented grapes, akin to a brandy. It is the national spirit of the country, production dating to the 16th century. A trend began to take off, making whisky sours with the country’s national spirit, pisco. The pisco sour traditionally includes egg white, lime juice, simple syrup and bitters. A Peruvian client recently advised me that once the popularity of the pisco sour began to grow, exponentially, so did the consumption of pisco; neat, with a plethora of new expressions being created and savored by Peruvians. American retail liquor outlets which are supporting an anti-mezcal-cocktail approach are taking a very risky gamble which can easily adversely impact not only their collective bottom line, but also the growth of the mezcal industry. I began this article noting “a recent movement.” The real movement is the meteoric growth of the cocktail industry. Embrace it with mezcal. Alvin Starkman operates Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca (mezcaleducationaltours.com). He is the author of Mezcal in the Global Spirits Market: Unrivalled Complexity, Innumerable Nuances (Third Expanded Edition with Portraits). #mezcalcocktails Alvin Starkman, M.A., J.D.
Selecting what brand or expression of mezcal to buy should be determined by more than considering price and your own or published tasting notes. Of course they will form part of the equation, but so should your knowledge and understanding of to what extent, if any, the brand owner is giving back to the community. What is your favorite brand of mezcal doing, if anything, to support the local economy of the town or village where the agave distillate is being produced, beyond simply purchasing from the palenquero? Does it donate to Mexican charities, and if so to what extent? Some brands do the right thing, believe it or not even some of those owned by celebrities. Over the past decade, several times a week I meet various mezcal novices and aficionados. I can perhaps count on one hand the number of times anyone has mentioned a brand giving back to either the local or broader Mexican community. The discussion the spirit imbiber begins is virtually always about nose body and finish, and/or value. Sometimes there is the odd commentary about the multi-nationals’ or movie/sports stars’ incursion into the industry. Brand owner personality lies along a continuum. At one end are those motivated by strictly altruism (to the extent it can ever exist at 100%), and at the other are those concerned with profit and little if anything else. I suspect that a fair number lie towards or even hug the latter, while nary a single one is to be found at the former. But being in a capitalist society suggests it’s okay to make improving one’s brand’s bottom line rather important. But that doesn’t mean we should willy-nilly accept brands which do their best to buy bulk agave distillate for as cheap as possible, even if part of the motivation is to benefit the end consumer. And we should reject those who do not give back to one or more segments of the community in need, by not supporting those brands nor singing their praise, no matter what the quality of the various expressions. If you want to continue to witness the industry thrive, that is those brands producing ancestral and artesanal mezcal, investigate before making a purchase, or promoting on social media or via any other means. You’ll feel better about yourself. Red flags should go up, at least provisionally, regarding a product seemingly under-priced, just as for the mezcal appearing to be over-priced. Does $25 USD for an espadín at 45% ABV a bottle of 750 ml suggest the brand is squeezing the palenquero as much as possible to get the best price? Does $60 USD suggest the brand is paying a lot and at the same time donating to a worthy charitable cause? Perhaps the brand is even partnering with the palenquero, which at least to some extent removes that inequality of bargaining power. The imbalance is evidenced by a brand owner knowing that the producer is in dire need of sales and thus he has the upper hand in negotiating price. The two as partners, on the other hand, suggests that as the brand flourishes in the marketplace, so does the economic lot of the palenquero. So what should you do before buying? What do I mean by “investigate?” We can begin a groundswell in the industry, as long as we do our part. Admittedly, it may require that you depart from your comfort zone. At the Retail Level When you go to your local wine and spirits store or mezcalería, ask the salesperson or better yet manager if the brand gives to charity or does anything else to support the state or community where the mezcal is being distilled. The answer will likely be “I don’t know.” Follow up by asking the person to contact the distributor to find out. Now many brands, for good reason, do not promote their charitable endeavors, but once asked should readily explain with details. Often the distributor does not know although he should so as to enable him to better promote the brand. It’s simple to give out your cel number and ask to be called once the vendor has an answer for you. But walk out of the store without buying! The next retail outlet you attend might have the answers you should be seeking. At the Trade Shows & Tasting Events At the trade shows, spirits competitions and tasting events conducted by brand owners or third parties it should be easier to get the answers you want. If not, then there’s a problem. Those promoting particular brands should be armed with a lot of information beyond telling you how great their products are and a little about the family which produces the spirit. When you are then told about the mountain of revenue the palenquero is given in reply to your query, remember that the members of his family are the ones awaking at 4 am to harvest and staying up all night to distill; not the brand owner who lives a much more comfortable lifestyle. And if you are told about how many hands the mezcal must touch before landing in a bar, store or mezcalería (i.e the Three Tier system in the US), and thus that the brand owner makes very little, that is simply a way to avoid answering your pointed question. You might even want to ask about any belief in tithing, and have a fruitful discussion about the practice as it relates to the business of mezcal production and sales. At both of the two foregoing levels you should press for details. Get the name of the charity, the address of the school the brand rep states it built, or water filtration plant it constructed for the entire community. Ask if there is a partnership agreement between the palenquero and the brand as opposed to simply an agreement fixing price per liter for the term of the contract. Brand websites and Facebook or other online mediums might provide the information outlining the information you should be seeking. But as suggested earlier, many brands might be uncomfortable promoting their charitable giving. But some are not. Several brand owners over the past few years have in fact asked me where they should park some of their profits in order to help the state of Oaxaca. Epiloque Do your research. Be just as critical as you are of brands of clothing, shoes and widgets which profit from the cheap labor encountered in third world or developing nation sweatshops. Help the agave distillate companies operating towards the ultra-capitalist end of the continuum to understand that making their charitable nature known to the public will ultimately cause profits to spike as consumers come to understand that buying the brand is a good thing. Quality of product will remain important, and price paid will diminish as a determining factor. Or, assist brands to rethink their business practices in order to then assist the palenqueros a bit more than is presently the case. I am not suggesting that donating to charities or partnering with the palenquero is the only way to help, nor that and one or both should be a prerequisite for supporting a brand. There are umpteen ways. And it’s not only the brand owners who should be encouraged or even shamed into “doing the right thing;” rather every person or business along the chain making a profit. They should understand that perhaps helping to grow the industry at large is just not enough; especially here in Oaxaca, one of the poorest states in all Mexico. Alvin Starkman is the author of the recently published third edition of Mezcal in the Global Spirits Market: Unrivalled Complexity, Innumerable Nuances. He operates Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca (mezcaleducationaltours.com). Alvin Starkman - M.A., J.D.  Most of them have been drinking mezcal for less than a decade, have researched in only a cursory manner if at all, and/or don’t live in Oaxaca but rather visit for a week or so once or twice a year. In Mezcal in the Global Spirits Market: Unrivalled Complexity, Innumerable Nuances; Third Expanded Edition with Portraits (Alvin Gary Starkman & Spike Mafford, Oaxaca, Mexico, Carteles Editores, 2021), I make reference to those mezcal aficionados who would seek to keep mezcal as a secret society. They are dogmatic in their beliefs about what they consider to be “traditional” mezcal, and attempt to convince others of the truth of their worldview; “DO AS I SAY.” Regretfully they find disciples. Some of the expounders even own or work at bars, Mexican restaurants and mezcalerías. They disseminate un-truths.
There’s nothing wrong with opining about the industry if you are relatively new to it, or if you have never visited Oaxaca or other agave distillate producing Mexican states for that matter, as long as there is a well-considered basis for promoting your point of view, beyond simply jumping on the bandwagon of your fellow neophytes and even of the so-called experts. Have you considered the pedigree of the latter and/or their motivation? And don’t ever think that if they’re standing behind a bar serving you, that they’re thinking is necessarily gospel. Question whether or not they should be telling you what to drink and what not to drink. Despite having been around the industry for three decades, I’m still learning. And I’m always open to other points of view. But I do take issue with those who tell me that they only drink “traditional” mezcal. They typically mean unaged products, with no infusions, which they have been buying outside of Mexico, both now and since early in this millennium. The issues are, (1) aging in oak and/or infusing with something, such as “the worm,” (2) the impact of CRM [Consejo Regulador del Mezcal, previously known as COMERCAM, our main regulatory board] since about 2004, and (3) clay v. copper. How far back must we go to deem something, anything, “traditional?” Once I’ve better digested the series of articles in the volume entitled The Invention of Tradition, edited by Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger (Cambridge, University Press, 1983), I hope to be able to opine from a much stronger position. If we believe that distillation in Mexico dates to about 2500 years ago, and that back then fermented agave was being distilled in only clay, then perhaps anyone who imbibes any mezcal distilled in a copper alembic or refrescador is not drinking traditional mezcal. Perhaps a bit extreme? Absolutely not. If they can be off the wall in their spouting, then surely I can advance what I consider to be a not unreasonable position, depending of course on how we define traditional. Let’s continue with our timeline. We’ll forget about the Filipino introduction to distillation on the west coast, and not even ponder the Chinese, and jump right to the Spanish. And let’s assume they arrived in what we now know as the Yucatan Peninsula during or about 1519 and in Oaxaca some two years later. And let’s not even ponder Spanish cultural appropriation of the spirit. There is both archival evidence and anecdotal oral history noting the arrival of oak barrels from Spain into the country. They were initially filled with Iberian hooch for imbibing in the New World, and in due course used for storing and transporting agave distillates. The practice dated back at least a couple of hundred years. And so mezcal drinkers if not by design then by default were drinking barrel-aged mezcal way back then. Is that traditional enough? The late Maestro Isaac Jiménez, in the 1930s/40s used to walk from Santiago Matatlán to the city of Oaxaca, with his mule or donkey loaded with mezcal in oak barrels, each on one side of the beast of burden. The trip would take 36 to 48 hours, and typically included bedding down for the night between Tlacolula de Matamoros and Santa María el Tule. The mezcal was continuously being jostled about during the journey, and upon arrival in the state capital, as a result of the movement it had been aged perhaps the equivalent of a year! We can now jump ahead to 1950, the year that apparently the gusano de maguey (“the worm”) was first introduced into an agave distillate, initially, state the pundits, as a marketing tool. I suspect that it was first found in a bottle of distillate somewhat earlier, but let’s use that date. Its introduction did result in Mexicans taking a liking to the flavor it imparted. After all, if the distinct nuance is now coveted by local cooks and modern chefs, why should the rest of us not recognize it as something agreeable? Just try sampling it along with a smattering of single malts, and you may just find some similarities in nose and body. If the non-tequila agave distillate aficionados believe that tradition dates to before the mid-1950s, then I suppose they have something. But they go further. They then say that both barrel aging and infusing with the gusano, or anything else for that matter, should be shunned because it masks or changes the natural nuance of each species of agave. Do they not realize that serious efforts at distinguishing in earnest one species or sub-species from the next dates to only about the mid-1990s with the introduction of Del Maguey brand? Before then traditional mezcal was often produced by baking, crushing, fermenting and finally distilling together whatever was found in the countryside ripe for harvesting. It was just mezcal. And even the maguey under cultivation, that is fields of Agave angustifolia, rhodacantha and americana, were harvested and then mixed together. And so your tepeztate, your madrecuixe, your jabalí, and the rest, are not what locals or much of anyone else for that matter were drinking, or at least not referring to them as such. Almost everyone was drinking mezclas without noting them as such. Are the only traditional mezcals today the ensambles? Yes, barrel aging alters the flavor of the agave distillate. What if you like the altered aroma and taste? Why do so many denigrate reposados and añejos, yet covet the pechugas most of which these days are distilled with fruits, herbs, nuts, a plethora of distinct meat proteins, and even mole? Could it be that they know that pechugas fetch the big bucks, or that they relish every opportunity that arises to tell the story of how it’s made? After all, barrel aging is nothing new, unless one tells a story of barrels coming from France or Kentucky, being used to age mezcal, and then returned to the US for use in the beer brewing industry. Now that’s a pretty neat story. Finally, I suggest that what we now term ancestral and artesanal mezcal, purchased anytime in the US, the UK and/or Canada since the first few years of this century and continuing to date, is not traditional mezcal. With the application of the dictates of COMERCAM beginning back then, exporters were no longer able to ship the mezcal that they had been sending north and east before that time. All of a sudden they had to be concerned with methanol and other compounds, and acidity. Each impacts the flavor and character of mezcal. And so for example some brands which were being imbibed in the late 1990s were required to change the recipe in order to comply with regulatory board requirements. The mezcal you drink today is likely not traditional mezcal, if you define tradition as dating to the 1990s or earlier. Want to drink traditional mezcal? Then an argument can be made that it should be: (1) distilled in clay à la ancestral but the agave crushed only by hand, and/or (2) aged in oak barrels, and/or (3) infused with something, and/or (4) purchased not outside of Mexico, and if from within the country then directly from its palenqueros as agave distillate and not certified as mezcal. To order Alvin Starkman’s newly edited book, email him at mezcaleducationaltours@hotmail.com. Alvin operates Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca (www.mezcaleducationaltours.com). Alvin Starkman, M.A.,J.D.  At the risk of being accused of heresy, not only do I personally not believe in providing tasting notes for mezcals, but a case can be made for doing away with them in their entirety, except in the broadest of terms. So I say no, to descriptors such as “cinnamon on the nose with essence of grilled pineapple and artichoke and a long peppery finish.” On the other hand, how could I object to hearing “it smells like acetone, tastes like used motor oil and burns going down?” The latter is hard to mistake. On perhaps three and no more occasions I have been asked to provide evaluations, and have complied with the requests; but I don’t like doing it.
For the past decade I have been preaching that no two batches of traditionally made mezcal can possibly be the same. By traditionally I mean encompassing the tools of the trade and means of production one typically witnesses in states I have visited such as Guanajuato, Michoacan, Puebla and of course my bailiwick Oaxaca. To be clear, at least in and around the central valleys of Oaxaca I refer to baking over wood and rocks, crushing with tahona or mazo, fermenting in almost anything but stainless steel (i.e. using receptacles made of wood, clay, hide, etc.), distilling using firewood as fuel, and arriving at the ultimate ABV without the use of the most sophisticated finely calibrated tools. As long as some of the foregoing are employed, one cannot replicate twice in a row. Now of course providing notes on an industrially-produced mezcal is different, since the producer strives for and is able to achieve close to 100% consistency time and again. Not so with the mezcal most of our readers know and enjoy. A few even regularly write in superlatives when heaping praise on agave distillates. Do they think the rest of us will buy into their godlike proclaiming of “the bestness” on a bi-weekly if not more frequent basis? Batch size also suggests variability from lot to lot insofar as the smaller the batch the less likely it is that your fellow aficionado is tasting what you are tasting if you are reading published tasting notes and trying to make a purchase decision. And isn’t that what the ardent mezcal aficionado most often cherishes, that is small batch production? Unless the two of you are sampling from the same bottle or garrafón, it’s perhaps like comparing apples and apples; golden delicious v. granny smith. The conundrum certainly holds true with this decade’s virtual tastings, unless the moderator has shipped to all participants from the same batch. And then, is he also sending along the same drinking vessel? Even the novice comes to understand that its composition, shape and size impact the notes one perceives from sampling. The time of day of the sampling can also impact in different ways. It can be intimidating to those whose palates are not so refined, when one of the self-proclaimed experts finds celery and you find bacon. “Oh no, I got it wrong!” If it’s being done in jest, for entertainment value, or to simply understand that mezcals can be as distinct from one another as an Australian shiraz, an Oregon pinot noire and a French Beaujolais; then that’s a horse of a different color. But if it will impact someone’s purchase of a particular product, then no thank you, even if the novice imbiber owns a hog farm and yearns for that bacon on a daily basis. And then there are those who want to illustrate their agave distillate palate prowess. Perhaps it’s Sour Grapes on my part, but I think not. I’ve stated to clients hundreds of times that mine is not all that sophisticated; though it’s getting better. I can easily tell people I take to village palenques for sampling, what I perceive in a particular expression. But I typically do not do so before hearing their opinions of a product. The power of suggestion plays into it all. Even in a small group, with me keeping my mouth shut, what one person says she tastes will often impact the perception of the next person in attendance. On the other hand, if everyone in the group blindly notes on their cel or a piece of paper, what they’re getting, then I would agree that the exercise can be somewhat more fruitful – for that batch. However for the foregoing exercise, other variables are typically impacting the validity of the results: what you had for breakfast and how long before the tasting, what you sampled prior, if you cleansed your palate and with what, and your general mood. Now you may think I’m speaking out of both sides of my mouth, having developed a mezcal tasting wheel with some 230+ aromas and flavors. Not so. I made it only to convince people that an agave distillate can be a fine sipping spirit just as a single malt or Armagnac, and so people sitting around in a group can have fun while enjoying an evening of imbibing and bating one another. Certainly not to promote serious disagreement. I must apologize to those who promote mezcal tasting notes. I do recognize that just like my wheel, it can be a fun exercise; as long as no one takes it too seriously. And so yes, do continue to opine on the obtuse, but take a step back. And don’t expect anyone, certainly not me, to bow down at your exquisitely refined palate. As far as I know, you’re using my wheel before publishing in print or online or orally spouting off your words of self-proclaimed wisdom. Shaming the rest of us doesn’t advance the cause of promoting the spirit. Check your dogmatism at the door. Perhaps you always wake up on the right side of the bed, eat lunch based on what you’ll be drinking later on in the day, choose your drinking vessel as do the wine snobs, and dress in orange when you know you’ll be sampling a mezcal with a mandarin nose. Isn’t it enough to laud a distiller who always produces a wonderful mezcal without parsing the distillate to death? Remember that the next person might not find hospital hallway, boysenberry and tree bark. You’re taking the fun out of drinking mezcal. Isn’t one of the reasons we gravitate towards hand-crafted agave distillates precisely because of its uniqueness from batch to batch, and because you say tomato and I say tow-máh-toe? Alvin Starkman operates Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca (www.mezcaleducationaltours.com). Alvin Starkman, M.A., J.D.
Who better to write a book about the business of mezcal than a Oaxacan lawyer who specializes in advising palenqueros, brand owners and prospective agave distillate entrepreneurs, about the quagmire of industry rules, regulations and nuances? In El ABC del Negocio del Mezcal [Carteles Editores, 2021], Blanca Esther Salvador Martínez accomplishes that end in spades. And who better to put mezcal in its historical and global context than an academic who teaches a class centering upon international marketing? Maestra Salvador Martínez does that as well. Translated as “The ABCs of the Mezcal Business,” the book is an easy yet detailed read, even for those of us who are not 100% fluent in Spanish. The 100-page publication consists of four well-footnoted chapters, in addition to a preface, introduction, epilogue, glossary and bibliography. The author breaks it all down into close to 90 headings plus charts and diagrams, thus making every point she endeavors to convey relatively simple to digest. And for those wanting to delve further into the subject matter, even the references are categorized; into legislation, books and related documents, websites, and journalistic coverage. Ms. Salvador Martínez’s initial chapter contextualizes mezcal as a unique spirit by explaining the development and importance of the DO [Denominación de Origen]. Her Roquefort cheese analogy hits home. She then answers those who would be critical of the concept of the NOM [Norma Oficial Mexicana]. The chapter dealing with concerns within the industry is extremely thorough. But it would be wrong to assume that the issues the author identifies are restricted solely to this section of the book. Indeed the problems and pitfalls are woven throughout the remainder of the treatise. Those subsequent chapters primarily address (1) action steps reasonably required as prerequisites for entering the industry, and (2) practical advice. The book canvases the vagaries of agave production based on:
The mezcal industry is complex. The roadblocks which potentially preclude entry and certainly delay, are numerous. Ms. Salvador Martínez stresses, as a cautionary note, the importance of seeking out different individuals, each an expert in his/her field, rather than adopting a one-stop-shopping attitude when it comes to relying on the advice of others. She quotes Albert Einstein as stating “a smart person resolves a problem, a wise person avoids it.” Ms. Salvador Martínez accurately pinpoints and explores the barriers to embarking upon a successful business plan, together with resolution mechanisms. However for me it was the ethical dimension which receives comprehensive treatment which most drew my attention. She identifies what I refer to as an inequality of bargaining power to which we all must be cognizant and find a way to reasonably and fairly address. For the pure imbiber, whether novice or aficionado, the book it important because to a certain extent it is a primer which covers some of those basics in a readable to-the-point fashion. They are the tidbits which are not readily discernable from other literature about mezcal, or from attending a bar or mezcalería and inquiring of those who at first blush appear be in the know. And to be clear, El ABC del Negocio del Mezcal is a book for more than those contemplating or in the process of getting into the industry. It should also be read by those already integrally involved with the business of mezcal. It encourages the reader to take a step back and re-evaluate why the desire to be or remain in the industry. In order to truly respect mezcal and all those involved in its production from field to bottle, there must be an impetus beyond the spirit as simply a vehicle by which to earn income. And so for all, this book is a must read; once, and again as a refresher. Alvin Starkman operates Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca (www.mezcaleducationaltours.com). When advising prospective agave dsitllate brand owners he works closely with Ms. Salvador Martínez. Alvin Starkman, M.A., J.D.
One distills mezcal in what is now the more traditional means of production tradition, that is in 300 liter copper alembics. The other makes classic ancestral agave dsitillate. They live and work in different districts of the state of Oaxaca, and their generational backgrounds, personalities and lifestyles are rather different. But a common thread which binds is that they have never allowed family distillation methods to constrain them. They think somewhat outside-of-the-box, albeit in divergent manners. And in so doing each in his own way improves efficiency. This article presupposes that the reader either (a) has been to Oaxaca and seen both types of palenques in operation and understands the broad strokes of how they typically function, or (b) has read and/or seen enough videos or documentaries to understand how each of ancestral clay pot distillation and artesanal copper alembic production works; and their distillery configurations. While of course the palenques of Jose Alberto Pablo and Rodolfo López Sosa are not entirely unique, each does significantly deviate from what continues to be the village norm. One might say that each distills to a different drummer. Rodolfo López Sosa, Tlacolula District of Oaxaca Rodolfo López Sosa’s wife thought he had succumbed to premature senility when he told her he wanted to build his palenque not close to the shore of the river running through his village of San Juan del Río as his fellow distillers had done, but rather high up in the mountains overlooking the residential and commercial area far down below. He draws his water from a spring water source even much higher up from his palenque. The airborne yeasts are indeed different at his palenque, but the more significant feature is the water quality, distinct from that sourced by the rest of the mezcal producers the majority of whom draw the lifeblood of production from the river or a shore well. The recently retired teacher, now alcalde (chief judicial officer or magistrate) of the village, does not assume that the way his forebears have done things and his father has taught is necessarily the best way. Naturally some courses of action should not be trampled. One is the type of maguey (agave) used to distill. The microclimate is highly suited to growing Agave angustifolia Haw (espadín). [In José Alberto’s case it’s lumbre.] So while Rodolfo occasionally sources maguey from further afield as do others, his preference is to stick to espadín. So how does he achieve an assortment of aromas, flavor profiles and finishes, if not via aging in oak? Rodolfo has a knack for achieving diversity by distilling with a variety of different fruits, herbs and other products of nature during the second pass-through, that is when distilling the shishe. Ah, but you say he’s just making a vegan pechuga. No, and in fact when he does a third distillation for his pechugas, he often uses only turkey breast with nary a fruit or herb, or adds a very limited number of additional ingredients. This is distinct from, for example, the traditional recipes employed in towns and villages such as Santa Catarina Minas, San Baltazar Chichicapam and Santiago Matatlán. And when he does add something foreign to the still, typically it is a single additional ingredient. Rejecting the usual cacophony of flavors emerging from a pechuga in favor of using only one or two external ingredients results in a more subtle agave distillate with only a hint of what he adds emerging. Rodolfo and I are ad idem when it comes to the result we seek to achieve in our distillates, and so for those two (and other) reasons, when I consider a particular recipe, he’s my go-to palenquero to bring it to fruition. Question: How does one avoid the arduous task of removing the rocks from the oven before commencing the next bake? Answer: By not removing the rocks. In Rodolfo’s world, the mound of rocks is permanently placed on a platform which includes special order clay bricks. At the back of his oven, there’s a staircase leading downwards, to a brick and mud wall, the other side of which is where the firewood is inserted under the platform. And so just prior to the subsequent bake, in the course of 10 – 15 minutes Rodolfo takes apart the wall, then removes the charcoal if he so desires, places fresh firewood, and again taking no more than 15 or so minutes seals the wall with the bricks and mortar. Why most others do not adapt what Newton has taught is not germane to this essay. But how Rodolfo has done so certainly is. In the usual course of crushing, once the horse, mule or team of oxen has finished, one pitches the bazago into a wheelbarrow, walks it up a plank of lumber and then dumps it into a wooden fermentation vat, or worse, alone or with someone’s assistance lifts the wheelbarrow and them dumps the contents. Then at the end of the day’s crushing and lugging, the accumulated liquid is swept into a depression, gathered into a pot and finally emptied into the vat containing the bagazo. Alas Rodolfo’s method stands in stark contrast. Rodolfo’s tahona on the circular encasing is only a couple of feet from a door leading to a lower level where his vats are located. A fermentation vat is slid to and right under the door entrance. The bazazo is pitched directly into the vat, then once filled the vat is moved aside and another is rolled to the location of the first. No wheelbarrow, no ramp, no lifting, simply gravity. There is a small hole in the stone encasing in front of the door leading to the vat area. The hole is dug down and through the wall up to which and opening to where the vat is located. And so at the end of the day the accumulated liquid is simply swept into the hole and it drips directly into the vat. Once again, it’s all gravity! I’m not sure if Rodolfo was recently awoken yet again, perhaps this time by an apple falling on him from a tree, or perhaps it was merely a natural development in the course of teaching his former students. But he’s taken another lesson from Sir Isaac. In order for tractor trailers to access his palenque to transport pallets of bottled and boxed mezcal to Oaxaca and then to the border, a port, or to other domestic destinations, they must wend up an extremely steep dirt roadway and then somehow make a sharp left turn. It’s only a 70 or so yard exercise, but a daunting task. And so this palenquero extraordinaire plans to build a conveyer belt to lower the pallets to the main roadway so that the tractor trailer driver need not worry about getting stuck, or worse yet toppling over the cliff. José Alberto Pablo, Zimatlán District of Oaxaca José Alberto Pablo hails from a village in Oaxaca’s Zimatlán district, namely San Bernardo Mixtepec, where for generations tradition has dictated, and still does today, condensing in laminated metal as opposed to copper or stainless steel. The result is a mezcal which is amber in color, caused by the rust which forms on the laminate. However, Consejo Regulador del Mezcal (CRM), the main regulatory board for this agave distillate, will not certify his mezcal because of the chemical compounds detected in laboratory testing. If he continues to produce the mezcal his fellow villagers demand, with the rust, he cannot sell that mezcal as certified. And so now on the cusp of certification, José Alberto still relying on sales to locals continues to use laminate, but also employs both stainless and copper condensers. He prefers the taste produced when using the stainless. He switches between the two as he wishes, but his staple remains an agave distillate produced using a laminated metal condenser. And over time, given that “rust never sleeps,” his traditional mezcal takes on an even deeper tone, eventually arriving at orange, after which time as a consequence of use a new condenser must be employed. But the more significant uniqueness of José Alberto’s operation is found elsewhere. Fermenting in clay pots is not particularly unusual. However while others in his village keep their ollas de barro outdoors, this young maestro constructed a room in which the fermentation pots are situate. They are still exposed to the airborne yeasts of the area, but José Alberto has a distinct advantage over his fellow palenqueros. Not only does the tepache (mash of liquid and fiber) heat up quicker indoors than if the pots were outside, but the fermentation process occurs faster also because the roof material allows the sun to partially penetrate, particularly important during the cold weather months. And during the rainy season he doesn’t have to cover the pots as other villagers do. While José Alberto’s still configuration and apparatus have a couple of small unassuming yet unique designed features, two characteristics are particularly noteworthy: (1) similar to more sophisticated operations, he recirculates the water used to condense with the aid of an energy efficient pump and a brick and concrete constructed water tank …. as opposed to directing the water into a stream or otherwise discarding and thus arguably wasting it by enabling it to enter the water table; (2) his three stills are fueled by one firewood aperture which singularly heats the triumvirate of ollas. When the ollas are distilling at different stages he is able to simply move around the logs as he wishes. Both Rodolfo and the younger José Alberto continue to innovate, their only constraint being insufficient revenue derived from mezcal sales for the realization of their evolving ideas. But no doubt over the ensuring years there will be more to come which distinguishes each of them from their fellow Oaxacan palenqueros. Alvin Starkman operates Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca (www.mezcaleducationaltours.com). Paragraph. Haz clic aquí para editar. Alvin Starkman, M.A., J.D.
The allegations come to the fore within the context of remarks of some mezcal commentators. They assert that “foreigners” who own brands of the agave distillate are guilty of cultural appropriation. Of course, the few are far from being the great thinkers of our generation, though they do get some traction; thankfully only from those who similarly fail to carefully if at all delve below the surface. All that can be done to combat the oft erroneous charge is to take steps to do the right thing: strike a balance between advancing one’s entrepreneurial tendencies on the one hand (if you don’t like capitalism, then move), and on the other, openly helping the mezcal brand owner’s palenquero associates, their families and their communities. One must go beyond buying mezcal for resale and having villagers bottle, label and pallet. That is not enough. Many brand owners do indeed work towards and in fact achieve altruistic goals, but do not, I suppose to their credit, advertise what they do. Perhaps that should change if for no other reason than to keep the naysayers in their Neolithic caves. This musing addresses primarily readers who are considering starting their own brands, and those with existing brands who may want to do a little better for their Mexican palenquero brethren. This would go a long way to quieting the holier than thou out there. But first we should all acknowledge that Mexican and foreign-owned brands should probably be lumped together. In both cases there is generally an inequality of bargaining power; think about it for a moment! Yes, the imbalance can easily be redressed, if the motivation exists. Palenqueros are doing their part to react to the problem, if not by design then by default. They are using their new-found wealth to advance the education of their progeny through entry into university degree programs. This in turn leads to a different, more critical way of thinking, or perceiving the world and its players. Many of these young lawyers and engineers remain in the villages of their parents, assisting in whatever way they can given their new-found worldview. But that’s a baby step. Something more is needed right now since we don’t know what 20 years hence will mean for the industry. Consumers are fickle, especially in the world of alcohol. How do the rest of us eschew the notion of exploitation? Us? Yes, even those without an ownership interest in a brand of agave distillate, but who are somehow benefiting from the mezcal boom. Here’s how, addressing both prospective and existing brand owners, and yes to some extent the rest of us:
Giving enhances our own self-esteem. But you’re reading this not to support feeling good about what you are already doing, but to consider doing more. And of course to confidently dismiss all those who would be critical. We’ve already bolstered the self-esteem of palenqueros, arguably something very tangible. But is that enough? Whatever you decide to undertake, consider letting the world know, even though doing so may run contrary to your best judgment regarding maintaining humility and a low profile. How else can we shout them out and proclaim “we’re doing more than enough; what are you doing?” Together with his associate Randall Stockton, Alvin Starkman operates Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca (www.mezcaleducationaltours.com), taking mezcal aficionados and novices alike, industry professional, photographers and documentary film producers into the countryside to teach about ancestral and artisanal mezcal distillation. He encourages his clients to ask questions, sample, interact with the distillers and their families, and even participate in stages of production of this iconic Mexican spirit. Alvin Starkman, M.A., J.D., LL.M. (candidate) She's intelligent, she's a youthful 29-years-old, and she doesn't come from a family steeped in a longstanding tradition of making mezcal as do most in her village. So how is it that this young woman has been taking the world of agave distillates by storm. to the shock of some, and dismay of others; that is. villagers who have said she has no right to be doing what she's doing. Santa Catarina Minas resident Rosario Ángeles has been defying all odds, even though she's been distilling mezcal for barely a year.  Rosario at work chopping sweet, baked agave; still to the chagrin of her mother After having taught English in downtown Oaxaca, and spent several months in California, Rosario finally realized that mezcal was her calling. If a couple of years ago you asked her how to grow tomatoes in greenhouses, her family’s trade, her answer would have been detailed and thorough; the opposite of a reply to a question about distilling agave in clay pots, making ancestral mezcal. She didn’t have a clue. And why would she? But she had become intrigued by the processes employed by her neighbors, and admired what they were doing. And so she read, and sought advice from those in her village who were willing to assist in teaching her regarding the uniqueness and idiosyncrasies of ancestral production of agave distillates. Rosario began construction of her palenque in November, 2019. She distilled her first batch in April, 2020. Back then it was rather difficult on her emotionally. Not because she was a slow learner, and in fact the opposite is the case. But because there was, and still is somewhat of a resentment since (1) she’s a woman, and (2) she had no business getting into the industry, having no family background of any kind in distillation. Surely she would fail and her efforts will have been in vain. After all, she was starting her business when this century's first (and hopefully only) pandemic had already begun to engulf the world, with travel coming to a halt, and bars, restaurants and mezcalerías both local and abroad being ordered shut down through bylaw enactment. But Rosario’s family provided her with much needed and appreciated moral and psychological support; even though her mother was indeed appalled at the sight of her daughter wielding a machete, something unheard of in the village. But today, not only does she produce an agave spirit of comparable quality to that of others in the village who boast Ángeles as one of their surnames, but her youth, her eagerness to continue to learn, her new-found refreshing passion for mezcal, and not being constrained by family tradition, have each independently given her perhaps somewhat of an edge over nearby palenqueros; if not now, then surely in years to come. Not that others have not experimented and begun to think “outside of the box.” In fact some distillers of artesanal mezcal in neighboring district of Tlacolula who have traditionally distilled in copper alembics, have begun to combine clay and quiote as part of their still make-up; a tradition dating to their forebears. But Rosario takes it all a step further.  Rosario serving samples of mezcal at her distillery in Santa Catarina Minas, Oaxaca To begin, her palenque combines a fresh, open-air, well-groomed look including washrooms even my mother would have entered. It has all the hallmarks of ancestral distillation; in-ground oven, mazo and canoa for crushing the baked sweet maguey, wooden slat vats, and four clay pot stills. Lest I be accused of sexism, yes Rosario’s distillery has a woman’s touch, all the way down to her logo, and brand name Rambhá, the Indian goddess of pleasure. While she does employ men to assist in the processes, she can be seen doing it all alongside them, just as her male counterparts who also rely on hired hands for certain stages of production. But there’s something else about Rosario which has made me take notice, perhaps suggesting a kindred spirit between us. I often both speak and write about the plethora of influences, impacts and factors which dictate that no two batches of traditionally made mezcal can be the same. It’s virtually impossible to replicate the exact same distillate twice in a row, or ever. And, because of the umpteen reasons for diversity from lot to lot, it’s hard to isolate one element from the other. Only a year into her career as a palenquera, Rosario has already begun to do just that. In early 2021, Rosario wanted to learn about the impact of using different water sources in the fermentation process. So she took an oven-load of tobasiche (a local name for a sub-species of Agave karwinskii), crushed it, and then placed half in one wooden vat, and the rest in another of the same type of wood and vintage of use. Molds and airborne yeasts were the same since the magueys were kept beside each other. Into one vat she placed river water, and into the other well water. Both vats were allowed to ferment the same length of time, and were then distilled in clay pots beside one another, again those tools of the trade being as identical to one another as possible. The same wood was used firing the stills, and as best possible temperatures were kept the same. In clay pot production the smoke from the wood used in distilling can impact the liquid above, and, as we know, the temperature at which distillation occurs impacts quality. Then subsequently, great pains were made to achieve the same ABV mixing head, body and tail. Finally, the end results were stored in the same type and size of vessel. One mezcal was appreciably sweeter than the other. The only difference was the water source used in fermentation. And now (April, 2021), the mad scientist is at it again, this time working with cuixe (another Agave karwinskii, though in her villages it's termed a rhodacantha, the same as maxicano) removed from the same bake. Half she is leaving for one week prior to crushing and proceeding with the remaining stages of production, and half she is leaving for a second week. And so there will be differences in the beginnings of fermentation, perhaps the insects buzzing around and feeding off of the honey-sweet baked agave, and the molds. All else will remain the same, the presumed difference in end product still to be seen. So what’s on the horizon for Rosario? Well, certification by CRM (Consejo Regulador del Mezcal) is in the works, which will give her access to marketing Rambhá, and exporting the label internationally. For Rosario, the objective is to ensure that a quality agave distillate will always be produced at her palenque, so that whenever a consumer tastes Mezcal Rambhá, he will know with certainty that it has been distilled and bottled at source, providing quality assurance.  While Rosario is already welcoming small gatherings for cocktail and simple culinary experiences, she is well on her way to construction of a large open air kitchen area. Her mother will be in charge of preparing traditional Oaxacan cuisine, enabling Rosario to supplement her mezcal offerings by hosting groups for desayunos, comidas and cenas. Bringing family into the fold for such ancillary operations will permit Rosario to continue to devote 100% of her time to distillation and to break down barriers which have by and large dictated resistance to change, innovation and advancement within the world of most Mexican agave spirits. For the past year Alvin has been singing the praises of Rosario to most of his clients. To a number each has been impressed with her mezcal, her distillery's ambiance, and Ms. Ángeles as a person.  Alvin Starkman, M.A., J.D. Within the first couple of hours of leading a Oaxacan mezcal educational tour, two of the most commonly asked questions are, “what’s the difference between a mezcal ensamble, a mezcla and a blend,” and, “why do the palenqueros do mixes in the first place.” In this article I do my best to answer both questions, based on having been around agave distillates primarily in the state of Oaxaca for the past 30 years, and on a very frequent basis over the past couple of decades having spoken with tens of traditional distillers and their family members (who produce mezcal ancestral or artesanal) regarding such queries . Mezcal: An Ensamble, a Mezcla, or a Blend Many mezcal aficionados nonchalantly toss about the word “blend,” such as stating “oh, so it’s a blend of tobalá, madrecuixe and espadín.” There is certainly debate and disagreement amongst both the mezcal geeks/experts and the distillers (even from the same village) regarding nomenclature when it comes to mixing different species and sub-species to arrive at a desired end product. But there is, or at least in my opinion should be, a consensus distinguishing a blend on the one hand, from a mezcla/ensamble on the other. Blends are commonplace in the world of mezcal, but typically not in the world of artesanal or ancestral production. Think of a blended whisky. Take two or more finished products, blend them together, and you get, for example, Johnny Walker Red Label, a blended whisky (as opposed to a single malt). Now switch to agave distillates produced in the large modern factories in Oaxaca such as those en route to San Pablo Villa de Mitla or on the outskirts of Santiago Matatlán, just to name a couple of locales. These factories can and do buy large quantities of distillates from various sources, bring them to a central facility, blend them, and voilá we have blended mezcals. Or they can produce different batches at the same distillery, and then blend them together. The foregoing is an easy way to distinguish a blended mezcal from the others, regardless of whether we term them ensambles or mezclas. Now think of the mezcals commercially available through retailers in the US, Canada, the UK, and elsewhere around the globe. The labels typically include the word “ensamble” to identify a mezcal made from two or more distinct varietals of agave. Usually the piñas have been baked together, then crushed together and placed in a fermentation vessel, and finally the mosto as it’s known, is distilled. Thus, the mixing starts at the beginning rather than at the end. A variation on the theme is baking in different lots and/or the agave at different times, but then crushing and the rest, together. But some palenqueros state that the broad means of production should properly be termed a mezcla rather than an ensamble. And so the disagreement remains, and will likely continue into the relatively distant future. A few of my palenquero friends steadfastly maintain that it’s a mezcla when the mixing starts at the beginning, and an ensamble is what we (should) refer to as a blend. But what happens when those same palenqueros’ distillates are bottled, labelled and shipped abroad? The label pretty much invariably states “ensamble.” Why, one might ask, is there is such groundswell of disagreement between the two camps? Many of those imbibers in the English (and I suppose French) speaking world know the word “ensamble” but not the Spanish word “mezcla.” The word “blend” would never be used since to many it has a less than quality-product connotation. And so on the store shelf we find mezcal ensambles, and typically not mezclas. In my opinion we can use the words mezcla and ensamble interchangeably, just as tow-MAY-tow and tow-MAH-tow. Don’t get hung up on something akin to that which etymologists often disagree concerning. But do recognize the difference between blends on the one hand, and mezclas/ensambles on the other.  Top Five Reasons Palenqueros Mix Different Varietals of Agave !. Several years ago a client asked one of my palenquera friends how she determined how much of each species she mixed together to arrive at her ensamble of six agaves. Her answer was rather simple, easy to understand and made an abundance of sense: “we brought one donkey-load of each type of agave to the palenque, and that’s how we decided.” Before the modern era of mezcal, which dates to no earlier than the mid-1990s more or less, foraging was the order of the day, and often regardless of what kind of agave was put in the oven and further processed, the end product was called just plain mezcal: not madrecuixe, nor tobalá; termed neither an ensamble or a mezcla. That’s what mezcal used to be. I recently purchased 10 liters from a neighbor who hails from a far-off village, some six hours away from the city of Oaxaca. Here in the state capital, specifically in our neighborhood, he flogs his villagers’ honey, coffee, and mezcal distilled in clay. He described the mezcal as made from maguey campestre, that is, agave from the countryside. It was just plain mezcal, produced as has been the case dating back hundreds if not thousands of years. There are still palenqueros who harvest whatever they can, from wherever they can, in as large quantities as time, distance and beast of burden allow. But these palenqueros are in the minority, rarely encountered by our readers, except those who want true far-off adventures to where one never knows what will be sourced; with what species of agave the purchase has been comprised. 2. The polar opposite of 1. above, is when a palenquero combines different types of agave because the ultimate taste is extremely agreeable to him. The corollary also sometimes comes into play. That is, he will refrain from mixing certain varietals together because the combination does not yield a good flavor. Typically, nose and finish do not enter the equation; taste rules. 3. The objective of many palenqeros is to completely fill as many fermentation vats as are to be used for the particular oven-load of baked, sweet, crushed agave. Often roughly a ton of the mash fills a wooden slat vat. While all is based on science, it is an art, a skill, which doesn’t always work out as planned. Sometimes, for example, eight tons of agave, one ton of each varietal, are baked together, then segregated with a plan to ferment one ton of each in a particular vat. But occasionally there is a bit left over from a couple of the species; the extra won’t fit into the vats for which each sub-species has been earmarked; That is, without seriously overflowing once water has been added and fermention begins in earnest. And so the palenquero will combine the excess kilos together into a vat, resulting in a particular mezcla which may never be repeated; unless of course it yields a particularly agreeable ensamble. 4. Sometimes a palenquero will combine two species of agave, in circumstances wherein one has a low sugar content, and the other much higher. The motivation is that this may result in a higher yield of the ultimate mezcal. 5. Finally, at least one palenquera friend is rather sensitive to what she is compelled to charge for mezcal produced from a particular varietal of agave, based on typical yield. She has explained to me that a mezcla sometimes is produced in a way that reduces the ultimate cost she must charge, yet retains much of the flavor of the more expensive (low carbohydrate content) type of agave. She used the example of combining tepeztate with some espadín in such a way that the end product still has a classic tepeztate taste, yet is not as expensive as it would have to be if she were to distill 100% tepeztate.  So there you have it, my take on nomenclature, and what I have gleaned to date as to some of the reasons ensambles of mezcal and agave distillates are produced in the state of Oaxaca.
Alvin Starkman operates Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca (www.mezcaleducationaltours.com). |
Categories
All
Categories
All
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed
