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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.
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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). Alvin Starkman, M.A., J.D. How can we determine if our preferred brand of mezcal is properly termed a craft spirit? In this opinion piece I attempt to refrain from using brand names of mezcals and agave distillates we tend to consider being traditionally produced (i.e. ancestral or artesanal). The reader, after reviewing the following, will likely be able to place particular mezcals along a craft spirit continuum. And so right off the bat my thinking about the topic should be clear, that is at least my singular broad conclusion.  Understanding and defining craft spirits is a complex topic with several nuances and points of view, even for those in the know. Adding mezcal to the mix further complicates, and makes arriving at concrete answers even more dumbfounding. Craft Spirit Definitions A search for a clear definition of “craft” within the context of spirits yields many results. Typically it denotes drink made in a traditional or non-mechanized way by an individual or a small company, or made using traditional methods by small companies or companies and people that fashion it. This alone reveals problems which arise within the mezcal context, when one tries to define “traditional,” “non-mechanized” and “small.” When the word “craft” is used as a verb, we fine definitions such as “to make with care or ingenuity,” and “to exercise skill in making, typically by hand.” Again there are issues when parsing the phrases to determine their applicability and relevance to mezcal. The community of the American Crafts Spirits Association (ACSA) has different definitions of “craft,” and thus has elected to not live by a singular definition, but rather to allow its members to each come up with an interpretation which serves his/her needs. However it has indeed passed judgment on what it considers to be subsumed by the term “craft spirits,” and what it considers to be a “craft distillery.” And so ACSA believes that: Craft Spirits means (1) a product made by a distillery which values the importance of transparency in distilling, and remains forthcoming regarding the spirit’s ingredients, distilling location, and aging and bottling process, (2) a distilled spirit produced by a distillery producing fewer than 750,000 gallons annually, and (3) no more than 50% of the Distilled Spirits Plant (DSP) is owned directly or indirectly by a producer of distilled spirits whose combined annual production of distilled spirits from all sources exceeds 750,000 proof gallons removed from bond.  A craft distillery is a facility which values the importance of transparency in distilling and remains forthcoming regarding its use of ingredients, its distilling location and process, and aging process. It produces less than 750,000 gallons annually. It directly or indirectly holds an ownership interest of 50% ownership or more of the DSP. The American Distilling Institute (ADI) is another industry organization. It provides a craft spirit certification designation. For ADI to certify:
There is also a requirement of “hands-on production.” With respect to this last pre-requisite, it appears that distillers are required to employ at least some traditional fermenting, distilling, blending and infusing techniques to produce their spirits, thus presumably suggesting the incorporation of a degree of modernity.  Factors to Consider Based on the foregoing, as well as from a review of several articles centering upon applicable definitions, it is fairly easy to conclude that within the mezcal context a simple answer should not reasonably be proffered, because of the lack of uniformity in the agave distillate industry; perhaps arguably distinct from, for example, the single malt scotch pursuit. However we can examine a number of factors and reach our own conclusions, both regarding our favorite brands of mezcal, and the spirit in general:
 Discussion Within the Mezcal Context Ownership of Brand / Distillery: Should percentage or type of ownership of the distillery be a factor in designating a mezcal brand as a craft spirit? Perhaps instead we should examine control of means of production. We know that Diageo, Pernod Ricard, Samson & Surrey and Bacardi are all in the mezcal business. If the distillery proper is still owned by the family of palenqueros, but decisions are made by the conglomerate, how does that change our thinking? How “hands-on” can the family be, other than participating in all processes, if its members are excluded from the decision-making process? Ownership of a brand by a multi-national corporation should not be the determining factor. In many cases sale to one of the big boys simply enables the brand to achieve global exposure than it otherwise would not have enjoyed, a good thing in terms of helping the family of palenqueros, the community, promotion for the region, etc. But once the non-Mexican corporate entity begins to tamper with means of production and tools of the trade, then the other factors come into play. If the corporation, let’s say Pernod Ricard, has purchased 100% of the brand from the previous owner(s), but leaves day-to-day management to them, can the brand still maintain a craft spirit status? Samson & Surrey actually boasts its “craft spirits portfolio” and advantageousness of having the “resources of a larger company.” It appears to be doing all the right things. Its reference to “human touch” would bring its products into the fold of “craft,” noted above as in “with care.”  Let’s examine Mezcal Benevá, a brand which most would likely agree does not produce a craft spirit, even though over the past couple of years it has added equipment to bring some of its production under the rubric of the term artesanal. The brand is 100% privately owned by a Oaxacan family (the last time I spoke with ownership), some of the members of which have a strong pedigree of production dating back generations. Its annual production is less than 750,000 gallons, but sales are more than 100,000 gallons. It lacks transparency only to the extent that, to my knowledge it does not offer access to its plant by the general public; otherwise in my opinion it is transparent in all determinative respects. The main issue with Benevá is means of production and tools of the trade, employing computer technology and finely calibrated scientific equipment, with its autoclaves, stainless steel equipment, diesel fuel and the rest. How different is Benevá from Lagavulin single malt scotch, owned by Diageo? Would you consider Lagavulin a craft spirit? Diageo is a publically traded company. This brings us to “values.” Is the first priority of a company which trades on the stock market to answer to its shareholders (i.e. improve bottom line above all else; of course I’m not referring to “green” companies)? If so, then where do its values lie? Do we put Diageo in the same category as Benevá, both as non-craft enterprises? Lagavulin appears to maintain tradition, but produces well over 100,000 gallons annually, and I would suggest at the end of the day must answer to its parent company.  Equipment Employed / Production Methods: If a mezcal brand has several distilleries producing for it, using traditional, non-mechanized production methods and tools, but produces one million gallons annually, is it still producing a craft spirit? If one of the brand’s products is a “blend” in the whisky sense, that is, not a traditionally made mezcal, should we refrain from terming the blend a craft spirit? What if a palenquero elects to use a gas powered crushing machine rather than mashing by hand or with horse and tahona, just to make like a bit easier for him? Is it no longer “craft” because the product arguably does not fit within the definition of “traditional” or “non-mechanized?” What if the palenquero switches to an autoclave for one or more reasons, including wanting to:
Volume Produced: I have already touched upon the volume of production index. I don’t think that volume should be a factor, at all, if it is clear from an examination of all the other determinants whether the brand or the distillery is craft, or not. If we cannot pigeonhole by looking at the rest, then, and only then, perhaps an examination of volume produced can correctly sway us in one direction or the other. Or, using the continuum model, take us closer to one end versus the other.  Click here to edit. Staff Numbers and Relationship to Owner(s): This, once again, should be one of the lesser important factors in making the craft spirit determination. Staff numbers reflects success of the brand and little if anything more, which returns us to numbers (i.e. gallons produced). What is the maximum staff numbers allowed for the brand, or distillery production team, to be considered craft? Returning to Benevá, the Zignum brand is just down the road, but owned, to my recollection, by non-Oaxacans or at minimum non individuals whose families emanate from nearby mezcal producing villages. Yes the two are large sophisticated operations, and likely each has a comparable number of employees. But in the case of Benevá, likely most are family simply because in a general rural Oaxacan sense, owners tend to prefer hiring family whenever practicable. The Zignum ownership likely hires workers who are not family because ownership is comprised of “outsiders.” So as relative to Zignum, Benevá can boast at least one half of this craft dimension, that is, the strength of family relationships from top to bottom. But certainly this does not mean that Benevá is a craft spirit. Transparency and Values: Should the consumer always be able to readily learn the name of the distiller and location of the distillery? There are typically reasons for withholding this information. The reader can judge for herself the validity, and the extent to which this should impact her thoughts about whether or not the mezcal should still be considered craft. Reasons include:
 Where I think a mezcal’s characterization should be impacted, is regarding misrepresentation of the contents of the bottle. And regretfully this does occur. There are brands of traditionally-made mezcal which label every bottle, except those distilled with espadín, as being made with wild agave; wild tobalá, wild madrecuixe, wild mexicano, and all the rest. Now yes of course there are still wild agaves up in the hills and otherwise far off, but currently virtually every agave currently used to produce mezcal in the state of Oaxaca is under cultivation. How could the Diageos and the Pernod Ricards of the world, each with a global reach, meet demand if they were not having these species cultivated for them. A good friend of mine has 16 different varietals under cultivation, only one being espadín. Yes there is literature stating that only after the fifth generation of production, should one begin to classify the plant as cultivated. But how does the public know? The better and more honest route is to label “semi-wild” or “semi-cultivated,” or not preface the name of the species with anything. Not following this suggestion illustrates a significant lack of transparency. But thankfully the good and the righteous outweigh the bad and the scoundrels. It all comes down to the values the brand and the palenque embrace. If profit is first and foremost, then you’ll mislead regarding the character of the agave, since the average consumer assumes that a mezcal made with wild agave is better than one made with cultivated agave, and thus pay significantly more for the former.  A movement has emerged over the past decade or so, towards putting as much information as reasonably possible about the mezcal’s production, on the back label. However this is not to suggest that brands with sparse labelling information are less committed to transparency as a value. It might be more in the nature of what the brand owner wants to promote most about the product line, while still being 100% transparent about the product.
Epilogue It all comes down to the due diligence upon which the consumer is prepared to embark in order to investigate the extent to which his favorite mezcals are craft spirits. He should educate himself by asking the right questions of the brand reps, the bartenders and the mezcalería and restaurant staff. Test them all and try to discern their level of knowledge and forthrightness. And read the brand websites and blogs; what are they telling you, and what are they omitting and why. Try to have the unanswered questions answered by making inquiries. You might lose some respect for your favorite brands, and gain respect for others. Perhaps break down all of the foregoing into 10 – 15 determinants of craft-ness. Then grade the brands accordingly. I let the cat out of the bag at the outset when mentioning the word “continuum.” Brands lie along it. Those who have read my musings know that I tend to reject absolutes. Here, I have been clear that mezcal as a category should not be labelled as a craft spirit. In fact just because it’s labelled ancestral, should not be determinative that it’s a craft spirit; at least not until you’ve done that due diligence and investigated as many if not all of the determinants on your own list. And just because the distiller uses an autoclave should not cause you to discount the brand or factory. Briefly examining the brand Scorpion Mezcal using some of the determinants, exemplifies the kind of exercise we should be doing when placing any mezcal operation along the craft spirit continuum. In the Scorpion case, owner Douglas French works at the distillery daily, and is in charge of operations. His staff are mainly single mothers, some of whom have been with him for a quarter century. He welcomes visitors to his facility, with a bit of advance notice, and anything not noted on his labels he is happy to explain on a visit or a call or via email. Ask him the extent to which he has expanded his operation over the past two decades, and why. Labelling for brands such as his and others which date to the 1990s are usually as they appear, without a plethora of descriptors explaining means of production and tools of the trade, because that was the custom at the time, and the marketing has boded well for them. Why change what has worked in the past, and continues to do so? It is not necessarily indicative of a conscious attempt to inhibit transparency. Lest we forget flavor, and texture. It’s indeed curious that the umpteen defining characteristics of “craft,” many of which have been noted above do not mention quality of product, although a major related consideration, impact of the hand of the maker, is tangentially included in most cases. Three considerations are in order:
Mezcal as a category is not a craft spirit. Thoroughly investigate each brand of mezcal which interest you. Question the maker or brand rep why you are being stumped regarding any doubts which have arisen. While at the end of the day you may not be able to conclude one way or another whether or not it is a craft spirit, what you will have learned will be immeasurable. And if you like what you’re drinking, and answers to your questions do not seriously offend your sensibilities, don’t change your pattern of imbibing. Alvin Starkman operates Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca (www.mezcaleducationaltours.com), a small, two-person federally licensed company with full transparency, and altruism as a primary focus of its raison d’être. Thus, it is a craft enterprise.  Alvin Starkman, M.A., J.D. Not since the advent and subsequent popularization of the Margarita mid-20th century, has the world been taken by storm by a Mexican alcoholic beverage. But here we are, in the age of mezcal. Of course we still have tequila, and there are now other spirits being exported from Mexico including rum and whisky. But it’s mezcal, tequila’s older sister and also an agave distillate, which is receiving global attention. But why, aside from the internet which impacts our universe second by second? Here are a few thoughts.  1. It all began in about 1995, with the arrival of two brands, Del Maguey and Scorpion. The former aimed at attracting a select imbibing audience, that is, spirits aficionados, while the latter sought to pique the interest of mainstream America. Over the past quarter century each has spawned the arrival of a plethora of other mezcal brands.  2. t’s been in large part due to the portrayed romanticism of every step of the process: indigenous Mexicans harvesting agave hearts (piñas) from the field by hand and transporting them to their family distilleries on the sides of mules; converting carbohydrates to sugars through baking the agave in a rudimentary pit over firewood and rocks; crushing by hand using a mallet or employing a beast of burden to drag a limestone wheel over the caramelized piñas; standing over wooden vats while the environmental yeasts work to ferment; then finally the smoke billowing into the sky from the wood fueling clay or copper stills. Over those 25 years industrialization has crept into the process in many cases. Some of those big commercial brand owners in fact mislead by representing their methods as those of an era long passed. The consuming public eats it up.  3. The last decade has witnessed the cocktail trade explosion, with mezcal brand owners seeking to capitalize by introducing lower priced agave distillates which restaurant and bar owners can afford to use. We still have those Margaritas, Negronis and the rest, but mezcal is now being introduced as the spirit of choice in their making. Brands, distributors and bartenders work feverishly to develop and promote new cocktails using mezcal as the liquor of choice.  4. A litany of entrepreneurs recognize the popularity of mezcal, and seek to capitalize on faddism: alcohol distributors are anxious to represent a brand; restauranteurs are opening mezcalerías; well-known figures in the entertainment industry who want even more are interested in having their names associated with their own or others’ brands; and residents of countries south and north of Mexico, and on the other side of both the Atlantic and the Pacific, are hiring marketing consultants to assist in new brand development.  5. Over the past several years multinational corporations each with an already well-established global reach have been buying up popular brands of mezcal which continue to be made using traditional means of production and tools of the trade. Those who have elected to sell their brands did not have the resources to enable them to reach many countries. And so now not only do we find mezcal arriving in far-off lands such as China, New Zealand, Argentina and the Yukon, but the big guns have the financial ability to promote the spirit.  6. There’s an abundance of money in the pockets of consumers. Despite covid-19, today we find a growing middle and upper class with disposable income never before seen in our lifetimes. Both dotcom youths and the older hippie generation now retiring after all debt has been paid off and the flock has left the nest, are flush. The former wants to show off their wealth. The latter grew up with The Beatles, Iron Butterfly and Jethro Tull, and worshipped organic production, Laura Ashley, Birkenstocks, and everything else representing “back to the earth.” In both cases there is the ability and in many cases a desire to spend $350 USD for a bottle of mezcal de pechuga distilled in clay.  There are of course other reasons for the meteoric rise in popularity of mezcal, and some might disagree with this enumeration. But the one point which garners universal consensus is the increasing popularity of the Mexican agave distillate, with a strong likelihood that our love affair with mezcal with continue for decades to come.
Alvin Starkman operates Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca (www.mezcaleducationaltours.com), and has been playing his part in advancing mezcal’s global popularity. Alvin Starkman, M.A., J.D. Palenque in Pueblo Viejo, Mixteca Alta, Oaxaca The start-up costs of building a traditional, artisanal mezcal distillery (palenque) in Oaxaca are significant, the most costly out-of-pocket expense being purchase of the copper still (alembic). But once that expenditure has been made, the brick and cement outer buildings erected and the limestone wheel (tahona) purchased, there’s little maintenance. In fact often the copper need not be repaired or replaced for a quarter century, depending on mainly usage and water source. By contrast, building a clay pot (olla de barro) mezcal distillation facility involves relatively little initial cash outlay. However the ongoing upkeep expenses have the potential to be significant and out of reach for many of these hard-working men and women (palenqueros) of modest means … but for their resourcefulness, ingenuity and sustainable practices.  Palenque of Angélica García, in San Baltazar Chichicapam, Oaxaca Most of the clay pots utilized in ancestral (and artisanal) mezcal production in and around the central valleys of Oaxaca are produced in the town of Santa María Atzompa. They are made with locally sourced clay, water and fire, and thus their cost is fairly modest, perhaps 800 pesos for the two receptacles required to make one still. Contrast this with some 80,000 pesos for a 300 liter copper alembic.  The old palenque of Felix Ángeles Arellanes, Santa Catarina Minas, Oaxaca Some of the following comments are applicable in the more traditional processes employed in making mezcal in Oaxaca, using copper as opposed to clay. But the thrust of this article relates to distillation using ollas de barro.  Sola de Vega, Oaxaca, 2012 The housing which encases the bottom clay pot is made from locally produced clay and/or adobe bricks and mud, and nothing more. The adobe is typically made by mixing sand, mud, perhaps donkey, sheep, cow and/or horse excrement, and waste agave fiber (bagazo) discarded after the first distillation.  Adobe bricks drying in the sun, made with bagazo Those bagazo-charged adobe bricks are also used in home construction. In earlier times they were considered a building material for the poor, but now are highly coveted both for their aesthetics and insulating properties. Bagazo is also used as compost, mulch, separating the agave hearts (piñas) from the in-ground oven’s hot rocks, manufacturing small biodegradable planters, and even in making paper for a multiplicity of applications including mezcal bottle labels.  Planters made with bagazo. When the roots get too big, place planter in the ground. The wood used both to bake, and to distill, is obtained at a discount. Nice big straight logs fetch a lumberyard-premium. For baking agave, crooked and otherwise malformed tree trunks can be employed. For distillation, often palenqueros work out a deal with a lumberyard to purchase its discards from log de-barking. While the objective is to shave off only the outer part of the log, there’s always good wood attached. And so this “waste” is sought by many palenqueros thereby enabling them to economize when it comes to the cost of firewood for fueling stills. Clay pots last anywhere from a couple of weeks to typically not more than a year and a half, after which time they must be replaced. It’s that bottom pot, as opposed to the upper clay cylinder, which presents the more significant problem; once it cracks or breaks, the housing must be disassembled, the pot removed, a new one inserted, and the encasement re-built. The life of that bottom olla is extended by using not a metal pitch fork to remove the bagazo, but rather a tree branch in the shape of a fork, its prongs sometimes joined with rope or wire.  Dis-assembling still to remove cracked clay pot But clay pots are inevitably rendered unusable for their initial purpose through breakage and cracking. When even the smallest crack is exposed, the fermented liquid (or the subsequent single distillate) will slowly seep out. The damaged pots (as well as the upper chamber clay cylinders) are frequently used as planters.  Damaged upper clay cylinder being used as a planter But that bottom discarded pot has a more important use, that is, in the fermentation process. Most baked crushed agave is fermented in pine or wooden slat vats (i.e. pine or oak) with capacity of usually 700 – 1,000 liters. But some palenqueros ferment in clay pots, typically partially embedded in the ground. After a damaged pot has been removed from the still housing, it can be simply repaired with cement and used for fermenting; a repaired pot generally cannot be used for distillation anew. And so while a cracked or broken olla de barro is not reusable for its original reason for purchase, it gets a new life.  Fermenting in cement-repaired clay pots in San Bernardo Mixtepec, Oaxaca Similarly, an old wooden fermentation vat can be converted. A couple of years ago I purchased one such vessel from palenquero Lucio Morales of San Dionisio Ocotepec. With the assistance of a carpenter friend it was cut down to a large coffee table, with 9 mm glass top, and the “waste” slats were made into slabs for holding mezcal cups for serving flights of mezcal.  Made from an old fermentation vat, for serving flights of mezcal In order for clay pot distillation to work, a continuous flow of cool-ish water is required. It often arrives along a makeshift wooden trough, falling into the small conical condenser through a length of giant river reed (carrizo). Carrizo is an invasive wild vegetation with multiple uses, including in the olla de barro distillation process. In addition to the foregoing use, it is sometimes employed to guide the water out of the condenser, and the distillate out of the still into a holding receptacle. The receptacle is sometimes a different type of clay pot known as a cántaro, produced in a different village (San Bartolo Coyotepec) and made from a rather unique clay. And yet another use for the reed is as a bellows to stoke the flame under the olla de barro during distillation.  Vintage cántaro made in San Bartolo Coyotepec Long ago palenqueros used clay condensers in the distillation process. When metal became available, they switched. While they used to employ simple laminated metal, more recently most have changed to stainless steel or copper. Some palenqueros have adapted old aluminum construction worker hardhats. The shape is about the same, and with a little work they are close to as efficient as those made with other metals. When in or about 2012 I first visited the palenque of Sola de Vega’s Tio Rey of Mezcal Vago notoriety, he had been using hard hats as condensers! Now many readers know the quality of this palenquero’s mezcal.  Hardhats converted to condensers in Sola de Vega, Oaxaca Steam rises, hits the condenser, then the drops of liquid must fall onto something which then guides the liquid to the exterior of the cylinder, through yes that different piece of carrizo, and down into the container. That something is typically a hand-hewn wooden spoon, or a small length of agave leaf (penca). And, the condenser is sealed to the upper cylinder, which is sealed to the lower olla de barro, in both cases not with glue but rather the paste/cap which naturally forms on the top of the fermentation vessel.  Hand-hewn wooden spoon in clay upper chamber, to catch the condensed liquid Several decades ago, here in Oaxaca a vibrant industry existed of extracting the fiber from the agave pencas, drying it, and spinning into rope, grain sacks, clothing and umpteen other consumer products. While the industry continues in the Yucatán peninsula, in Oaxaca the pencas today have a different use not only for palenqueros and their families, but for entire communities the members of which do not even distill. Pencas are typically left on the ground once cut off the agave piña which is then ready for transport to the palenque. After they are partially dried and not as heavy, they are transported to residents’ homes, and used as firewood; to cook tortillas, grills meats, prepare hot chocolate and other beverages, and even as fuel in open air kilns for making terra cotta pottery. The pencas can of course also be mulched.  There are several ways that piñas are moved from field to palenque, most typically in a truck or on the backs of mules and donkeys. But they are also transported in wagons pulled by a team of oxen. Oxen are therefore not only used for plowing, but are also employed in the mezcal industry. They are even used to pull the tahona in the agave-crushing stage. If you already have a team for plowing, why not use it for crushing agave rather than purchase different beasts of burden? And they produce much more excrement than donkeys. Their waste can and in fact is used as fertilizer for growing more agave.  When the still is not in use, many palenqueros prefer keeping the opening underneath, into which firewood is placed to produce flame, closed off. Some distillers don’t want young children playing hide-and-seek in the sooty and sometimes still hot orifice. Others don’t want their chickens laying eggs inside. Maestro Felix Ángeles Arellanes of Santa Catarina Minas, keeps the opening closed using old metal plow discs. At the outset I noted the modest start-up costs for establishing a palenque for olla de barro distillation, and touched upon the cost of the clay pots. Additional installations in both clay and copper operations which are pretty well free of out-of-pocket costs in fact require only labor, include excavating the pit in the ground for baking, the ability to crush by hand using a wooden mallet and nothing more, and fermenting in an animal hide or a lined hole in the earth or directly in a bedrock cavity. It’s the innate creativity of the palenquero distilling in clay, which is remarkable, somewhat more so than is the case with those distilling in copper. Regardless, and one can argue that those employing alembics are just as if not more creative, the foregoing are but a few examples of the resourcefulness of the palenquero and others in and around the broader mezcal industry. The last decade has witnessed significant change in the wind. And while we must admire the ingenuity, maintenance of sustainable practices, and the rest, it’s crucial that we not begrudge the palenquero for making small technological advancements with a view to making life just a little easier as his economic lot in life improves. The romanticism we cherish in traditional mezcal production will inevitably wane, but hopefully only to a limited extent. Alvin Starkman operates Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca (www.mezcaleducationaltours.com).  Alvin Starkman, M.A., J.D.  Swing open the saloon doors, walk down a few steps, and have a seat at one of the ten or so orange arborite tables. Clint Eastwood might have parked himself on a wooden stool instead of a 1960’s vinyl covered stainless steel padded chair, but you get the idea. And yet somehow, the shiny, brand spanking new digital juke box does not seem particularly incongruous.  El Faro is a small bar in Colonia Reforma, about a ten minute taxi ride from Oaxaca’s zócalo. It serves alcohol, as well as the finest in typical, filling finger foods, as well as other quickly prepared local fare.  Distinctly different from other “authentic” bars, I have never seen a non-Mexican at El Faro over the dozen or more years over which I have been an occasional patron, except for when I have taken Canadian and American friends for the experience.  Now down to indulging. The experience on this afternoon began with the alcohol orders. Drinks arrive promptly, alongside shelled peanuts made on the premises with course salt and spices, a Oaxacan staple. Of course quartered limes, sal de gusano, and other accompaniments arrive depending on choice of beverage. You don’t order a tepeztate or a jabilí, although perhaps mezcales with such agave species are now offered. Blanco or añejo is all I have ever ordered, with a domestic beer chaser or three.  Mezcal is served clearly without any consideration given to portioning, and a couple of drinks will leave you feeling like four, or five. When my wife and I visit, we go in her car, both of us fully understanding that I will be in no condition to drive home. Alternatively, it’s in a taxi. Our friends are equally cognizant of the danger of El Faro.  El Faro cantina is no substitute for any of the dozen or more mezcalerías in Oaxaca. By contrast, it’s the place you want to go to understand what and how Oaxacans have typically been drinking for generations. With the mezcal boom now in full swing, younger Mexicans have also begun to drink as do visitors making a pilgrimage to Oaxaca to experience and learn about production of agave distillates such as the foregoing two varietals, and naturally others. How to order. While of course one can order from what the server says is available, but to our thinking it’s best to say, after the list has been rhymed off, “todo, por favor, poco a poco, y sin prisa” (everything please, little by little, and no rush).  The parade at El Faro then begins, starting with a burst of smoky flavor and spice; that is, exquisitely marinated onion slices. While vinegar is the main ingredient, the unique and appealing flavor of chile pasillo, with a mixture of spices, predominates, creating an appeal hard to beat, and dare I say replicate. Certainly it bears some similarity to piedrasos, often sold on street corners in large glass containers and served with marinated vegetables over giant chunks of toasted bread. So encountering this tart treasure in a sit-down environment is indeed a true find, especially since the street food lacks the smokiness found in this cook’s onion dish.  A tlayuda is set before us in short order, prepared without any excess baggage. The large crunchy oversized baked tortilla is made with requisite asiento (schmaltz, as my grandmother would say, but this fat isn’t from a chicken) and a thin paste of chile de arbol, topped with queso. Forget the vegetables, refried beans and meat typifying most tlayuda toppings. All in due course. Marinated serrano chiles with onion slices (rajas), additional salsas, and guacamole follow, rounding out the sides; that is, if appetizers can be distinguished from mains.  A plate of fast-fried small round potatoes known as bolas de fuego (fire balls) is placed before us. Seasoned with some type of chile, perhaps paprika, and without a doubt garlic, these crisp-on-the-outside golden goodies do not disappoint, being true to their name. Once on my way to inebriation, I’ll usually head to the juke box and play some of my favorite ‘60s and ’70 rock tunes. Sometimes you have to wait until the earlier music aficionado’s tunes have run their course, but it’s typically not more than a few minutes.  Frijoles con pata is next to arrive; black beans served in a bowl with boiled pork foot. It’s a traditional dish, and in fact our Oaxacan friends typically eat the gelatinous vittles with great gusto. But it’s equally both a taste and texture which many North Americans take time to acquire. A couple of decades later we’re still working on it. The salsas do help.  The empanadas de seso (beef brain) are the best we’ve had anywhere, anytime. While fried as is the custom, these little filled turnovers are lacking the customary double dose of oil, making them as close to a baked botana as one can find. Guacamole is the preferred dipping sauce, since there’s already a bit of spice in the stuffing.  As dusk approached, we rounded out our experience with two meat dishes combined on a single platter: costillas enchiladas (spare ribs coated with a chile mixture) which were well cooked as I had requested, and had plenty of meat on and off the bone; and tasajo (a thin filet of lightly seasoned beef) which arrived tender and juicy, and not at all over-cooked (often an issue in Oaxacan eateries), already cut into (large) bite sized pieces.  On some visits we ask for a plate of mixed typical Oaxacan snacks comprising quesillo, cecina, tasajo, chorizo, sometimes queso fresco, and chapulines if available. El Faro isn’t for every traveler. There are many who surely must walk by such establishments, take and quick peek inside, are clearly intrigued, but then say “no, we’d better not.” At El Faro you can, and you should.  A couple of years ago I asked my wife where she wanted to go for her 70th with some invited close friends. Casa Oaxaca? Vieja Lira? Los Danzantes? Origen? You guessed it, she said El Faro. El Faro. Jasminez 222-B, Colonia Reforma. Monday through Saturday.
Alvin Starkman and Randall Stockton operate Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca (www.mezcaleducationaltours.com). Towards Categorizing Mezcal for English Speakers: Mezcal Ancestral, Artesanal, Artisanal, & The Rest9/13/2020 Alvin Starkman, M.A., J.D.
In 2017, the regulatory board for mezcal for the first time delineated three classes of the spirit based upon their different means of production and tools of the trade. After months of hearings, with often heated discussion and objection, Consejo Regulador del Mezcal (CRM) decided upon the descriptive Spanish terms Ancestral and Artesanal, as well as a third category, just plain Mezcal. Mezcal of course it the relatively high alcohol content Mexican agave distillate most of which emanates from the state of Oaxaca. Those of us whose first language is English might understand and interpret the meaning and significance of the two terms differently than our Mexican agave distillate aficionado counterparts, and perhaps more significantly novices to imbibing mezcal. Do the words ancestral and artesanal mean the same to someone born and raised in Mexico, as do the words ancestral and artisanal to for example an English-first-language American, Canadian, Brit or Aussie? Just as importantly, I believe that where a distillery lies in terms of what equipment is used and in what manner to make its mezcal, is somewhere along a continuum. It is perhaps not appropriate to pigeonhole the production in a distillery or palenque as they are sometimes termed (at least small scale facilities), as being of one of three types. A single location can be registered in more than one category. For example Scorpion Mezcal SA de CV is registered as a producer of Mezcal Artesanal and just Mezcal. Indeed since the promulgation of the regulation, numerous producers (or palenqueros) have objected to the categorization of their enterprise, and attempted to have CRM authorize the label they want on their bottles for identification purposes, to be what they want and think it should read. But in some cases, no doubt, their main motivation is marketing, sales and bottom line, as opposed to enlightening the buying public. On the other hand consumers are being educated; it is hoped that we are able to work towards a more informed consumer. There are numerous subtleties to the ultimate delineation for labeling and distinguishing one production method (and equipment used) from the next. While I try to not bastardize and simplify the legitimate and important differences, for present purposes the three types can be summarized as follows. More exacting and perhaps accurate descriptions and differences in Spanish, including in chart form, can be found at https://mezcologia.mx/mezcal-ancestral: Mezcal Ancestral: agave cooked in an oven in the ground over firewood and rocks; crushed by hand or by tahona and beast of burden; fermented with or without agave fiber in a broad range of receptacle types including made of wood, a pit in the ground, animal skin, clay or brick/cement; and distilled over fire in clay, with the fiber included in the first distillation. Mezcal Artesanal: agave cooked as ancestral or in an above-ground manmade chamber fueled by wood or fossil fuel; crushed as above or using a crushing machine; fermented as above; and distilled using wood or fossil fuel, in clay, wood, copper, stainless steel, with or without fiber for the first distillation. Mezcal: agave cooked as above or in an autoclave or diffuser; crushed virtually any way; fermented as artesanal or in stainless steel; and distilled as above or in a continuous column still of copper or stainless steel. The third category, Mezcal, can be described in lay terms as approximating an industrial or perhaps less objectionably stated as a semi-industrial process, in neither case recognized as such by CRM. Once again, it must be emphasized that the foregoing is a rough summary which serves present purposes only. And there are no doubt ongoing arguments being presented dealing with terminology interpretation or oversight. Producers of Mezcal vie to be able to use the word Artesanal, and in fact some have ratcheted up sales by erecting new more “traditional” palenques (that is, approximating what we know of as typical artisanal facilities [at least in the central valleys of Oaxaca]); baking over firewood and rocks, fermenting in wooden vats and distilling in 300 – 400 liter copper alembics. And some Artesanal facilities would prefer being able to use the word Ancestral. There are those which are even trying to learn how to distill in clay, even though their family tradition has always been copper. Finally, many ancestral palenqueros object to not being able to use machinery to crush; doing so would make their lives somewhat easier, a good thing (but perhaps not for the purist imbibers). However the issues run much deeper. What do we think of when we hear or read the word ancestral? Roget’s thesaurus uses words including primitive, primordial, aboriginal and prehistoric. Cambridge dictionary states “relating to members of your family from the past,” and exemplifies with phrases including one’s “ancestral heritage,” a family’s “ancestral homeland,” and children losing their “ancestral tongue and values.” Merrian-Webster lists synonyms and near synonyms including historic, old-world, ancient, authentic, established, ageless, customary and venerable. Its simple definition reads “of, relating to, or inherited from an ancestor.” So we must look to that word; forefather, forerunner, progenitor, that is “one from whom a person is descended and who is usually more remote in the line of descent than a grandparent.” The foregoing, I suggest, is consistent with our more or less lay perception of ancestral. That is, when we think of Mezcal Ancestral, we likely consider it produced within a family tradition, with recipe, means of production and tools of the trade, all dating to pre-Hispanic times. And so herein lie the problems. Is there something misleading if a palenquero whose family has been distilling in only copper alembics for five or more generations, decides to learn how to distill in clay so he can produce an ancestral “style” agave distillate? One might reasonably reply no, because he’s using an ancestral method, and clay pots. According to CRM, he can crush using a tahona dragged by a horse, and call it Ancestral. But the modern horse was brought to the New World by the Spanish, hardly ancestral. Furthermore, in some circles the jury’s still out as to whether or not there was pre-Hispanic distillation, notwithstanding mounting proof of its existence. What if the earliest distillation in this part of North America used copper and not ancient clay pots? Perhaps CRM has it backwards, and Mezcal Ancestral should refer to a family’s continuous distillation of agave since the 1500s using horses and mules to crush and copper to distill; and crushing by hand and distilling in clay were merely subsequent adaptations of rural folk of extremely limited means. And even assuming pre-Hispanic distillation in clay, surely economic considerations came into play. By this it is suggested that only those of significant means could afford copper stills, tahonas and horses, so those of extremely modest resources (i.e. rural indigenous people) were restricted to using clay and wooden mallets. More about historical considerations further along. It is still within the realm of reasonable possibility that the earliest widespread distillation was in copper, which should not be discounted out of hand. Perhaps we should term clay distillation as artisanal. We must then look to the etymology of that word. Cambridge defines artisanal as something “made in a traditional way by someone who is skilled with their hands.” Merrian-Webster writes of producing “in limited quantities by an artisan through the use of traditional methods, artisanal bread/wine/cheese.” As examples of artisans it includes a cooper, carpenter, blacksmith, potter and glassblower. Roget’s lists craftsman as a synonym, and examples include bricklayer, miller, weaver, welder, woodcraftsman and upholsterer. Are artisanal producers any less skilled than ancestral? Quantities are more limited for ancestral. Skilled is relative. What if hands are totally removed from the equation, in favor of skilled workers employing tractors, trucks and front end loaders? The mezcal can still be termed Artesanal, or artisanal for present purposes. Should one be able to term the mezcal distilled as artisanal if the agave is steamed in a sealed brick and cement room, the heat produced from a fossil fuel such as diesel or propane? CRM answers in the positive, but not if the steaming is done in an iron chamber, an autoclave. Many imbibers tend to suggest or outright profess that if the mezcal is not made by baking the agave over firewood and rocks, that is, not artisanal or ancestral, it’s not good or even worthy of sampling. However, a convincing case can be made that by steaming, and thus not altering the flavor by impacting the agave with smoke from baking over wood, one gets a truer understanding and appreciation of the characteristics of the particular species or subspecies of the succulent, the impact of terroir, and the rest. Why does CRM not distinguish in its categorization fermenting with the cooked crushed agave fiber in the receptacle, as opposed to without it? One can term the mezcal as Ancestral or Artesanal even when the fiber has been removed prior to fermentation. It is suggested that as a consequence of its removal, the ultimate agave distillate begins to approximate more of a neutral spirit. We lose a significant amount of the flavor unique to the agave and other factors which determine the character of the end product. It is my understanding that one can distill in stainless steel, and still term the mezcal Artesanal. Mezcal purists would likely reject such a product out of hand as not being a traditionally made agave distillate. But one cannot have Mezcal Artesanal if the fermentation has occurred in stainless steel. Does not the neutrality of the metal enable us to better evaluate the mezcal on its unique merits without having been impacted by a cow hide, a pine tub or a clay pot? True teachers about the spirit should welcome being able to remove different impacts (i.e. fermentation vessel composition) from the equation for purposes of conducting a tasting. Based on the foregoing it is suggested that the current categorization, at least for English speakers, leads to a misperception of the quality of any particular mezcal. For the past decade or perhaps longer, brand owners have been moving towards putting increasing amounts of information on the back label regarding means of production and tools of the trade. Perhaps CRM should dictate the inclusion of certain specifics on the back label. Alternatively, it could consider expanding the categories as a way of better informing the public. Regardless, however the CRM categories are constituted cannot possibly tell the whole story and nor likely truly enlighten. It appears that the historical context of mezcal production will never be captured by whatever designations we read on bottles. Will labeling inevitably always mislead? The development of the spirit over time from the pre-Hispanic era until now is important, but of course cannot be captured on anything pasted on a bottle of mezcal. But the history, what we know and what we surmise, is important in the education of consumers. We should perhaps acknowledge that one can still dispute the roots of agave distillation. If not the decade, century or millennium of its first appearance in what is now Mexico, then its importance in understanding the historical significance of alcohol, be it a fermented drink such as pulque, or a distilled spirit such as mezcal. There is indeed an important story to be told, which CRM appears to either ignore, or simplify through labeling, where simplification is clearly, in my estimation, not appropriate. To provide just a hint, or rather as a precursor to a comprehensive essay on the theme, it can be stated with some degree of confidence that if there was indeed pre-Hispanic distillation, the spirit was consumed in that era ceremonially, and post-Conquest by the Spanish to induce drunkenness and enslave indigenous peoples for working the mines. Anthropological fieldwork, research and writings confirm a clay pot still site dating to about 900 BC, and other literature suggests pre-Hispanic distillation dates to a couple of thousands years earlier. Indeed writings on the history of pulque production and consumption have relevance. This context is beyond the purview of the present article. Perhaps the best and easiest short-term solution is for consumers to do their own due diligence and ask knowledgeable and trustworthy vendors about the specifics of each mezcal on the shelves. But that presupposes a certain level of understanding by and training of the sales force. In general, based on travels throughout Canada and perhaps more importantly the US, and discussions with Brits, Aussies and Europeans over the past decade, that education and knowledge is still by and large lacking. However it is indeed improving as more aficionados in the alcohol industry make a pilgrimage to regions of Mexico known for agave distillation. For consumers, while visiting Oaxaca and other centers of mezcal or other agave distillate production is encouraged, a visit or two can take you only so far in understanding what’s gone into producing that bottle. The label might help, but is of limited assistance. Alvin Starkman operates Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca (www.mezcaleducationaltours.com). His business associate is Randall Stockton. Valuable collaboration for this article was provided by Douglas French who has been distilling in Oaxaca since the early 1990s and owns Scorpion and Escorpion brands of mezcal, and Sierra Norte Mexican corn whiskey. However any and all errors / omissions are of the author alone. |
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