Mezcal: You're Tasting it Wrong!
Why Some Think They Don't Like Mezcal
“Damn it; not again!” Job bellowed.
It was August, 2015, and I was visiting the palenque of Daniel and Cosme Hernandez Jr. in San Baltazar Guelavila, Oaxaca. There my friend Job was actually living in a cinder block structure on their property, and he’d just discovered his two Weimaraners had gotten into his food storage. Bits of tortilla and beans were everywhere.
As I mentioned in my first article, it was my first visit into the campo of mezcal country. Cecilia was with me, and we got to see the agaves fermenting and a full-on distillation in progress. And, as has been the case when visiting most any palenque, the maestros are nothing close to stingy. We tasted Tobalá, Tepextate, Jabalí, Coyote—and many more I can’t quite recall. Some of them immediately blew me away! Others my palate just couldn’t comprehend. They just tasted strong. Why was everyone else enjoying them? Well, maybe we just had different tastes, right?
Actually I just wasn’t ready for all of them.
The Challenge in Tasting Mezcal
For my fellow US folks: do you remember when the craft brew revolution swept through the country? It hit my home state of Michigan around the early to mid 90s. As I started to discover Stouts, Porters and Old Ales, at some point I realized if one were to move from Miller Lite to, say, a Samuel Smith Oatmeal Stout, one would really need to moderate one’s drinking flow rate. If you’re used to quaffing a few gulps of the former, you’ll be overwhelmed when doing so with the latter.
In that case it had to do with the differences in the body of those two beers. But I’ll suggest the same moderation is needed when moving from a so called “smooooth” 38% tequila to a soul-stirring 52% Espadín. If you’ve been drinking that tequila and other spirits like it, you may come to associate the experience with the way it should be. And to make plain what you’ll find on this blog many times: if that’s what you like, no hay problema. You do you.
But…if you keep repeating things like, “I don’t like mezcal. It’s too strong.” Ahem. My challenge: too strong compared to what? To your 38% tequila? Okay. But that 38% tequila is MUCH stronger than the beer or wine you drink too, isn’t it? I’m guessing you have placed beer, wine and spirits in different mental categories, and if you have any interest in understanding why so many are over the moon with mezcal, it could be you need to place it in a different category as well. One in which you drink it a bit differently than that tequila or rum or bourbon.
Drink Mezcal with Besitos
You’ve been drinking since you were a baby; so maybe it’s annoying to hear some guy suggest you do it differently. I’m guessing that’s why so many just don’t listen when I make a mezcal sipping recommendation…
Good artesanal mezcal is usually a fair amount stronger—and often much more complex than most spirits. So if you take the same sized sip as the aforementioned tequila and just let it slip down your gullet, two things are likely to happen: 1) you won’t be able to apprehend its magnificence, and 2) it will sometimes burn a bit. Therefore the admonition given along with mezcal in Mexico for ages has been to drink with besitos (little kisses.)
My take is that this will happen naturally for one who keeps drinking mezcal. Your brain will eventually connect with your mouth, knowing that tinier sips result in a more pleasurable experience. But before that automatic response kicks in, you’re encouraged to accept that if you always think mezcal tastes “too strong,” you may well need to start on those besitos. I swear, I can make a full shot last 45 minutes to an hour this way. Try leaving it in your mouth for ten seconds or so, swirling it a bit, then letting it ease down your throat. Some think taking a good sized breath after swallowing helps them appreciate it more too.
Why Bother?
This one’s easy. As I mentioned earlier, I struggled to understand some of the artesanal mezcales I enjoyed on my first Oaxacan adventure. So while I was sipping that Jabalí with Cecilia, distracted by something on TV, on my second shot something happened that has never occurred in my substantial alcohol drinking career: my face began to feel like it was shining. The incomparable beauty of the Jabalí started to build on my palate and I experienced a special euphoria.
I swear my vision immediately improved!
As to what’s really happening there, I’m in no position to state with confidence. But I know I’ve never enjoyed anything like it, and I’m grateful to have been introduced to artesanal mezcal by someone who really knew what he was doing—and that I gave it enough of a chance to finally realize it is, as my friend Mark says: “Simply the best and most intriguing spirit in the world.”
I’m here in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. If you’re ever stopping through, come drink with me. I’d be happy to try and make your face shine too! (With mezcal that is. Jajaja!)