Signal Lost, Spirits Found in Santa María Ixcatlán
A dead‑zone odyssey into the land of cowhide vats, clay stills, and the hunt for real Papalomé
Thursday Afternoon, February 27th, 2025
Scheduling appointments with the mezcaleros of Santa María Ixcatlán turned out to be a masterclass in patience. David Rivera Herrera was our one lifeline—without his insider help, our trip would have collapsed faster than a poorly built palenque roof. Gracias, David!
It didn’t take long to realize why: the village’s internet crawled along at dial‑up speeds or lower, the Sierra swallowing every bar of signal. Ciro and I spent half our drive wrestling with Google Maps, watching our signal bars vanish like smoke rising from an horno. Then the radio silence made sense. So with a bit of help from David, we made it to our second palenque of the day.
Amando Alvarado Álvarez (AAA)
I’d been pinging Amando Alvarado Álvarez—AAA, for short—for months. I’ve always thought rolling up unannounced is gauche, so as usual I played the good guest and made appointments. My texts got a perfunctory “Hola,” then a breezy “Claro que sí,” which felt less like confirmation and more like an open‑ended invitation to wait. But David insisted it would work out.
A few days before departure, I nudged AAA again. He told me not to worry—his father would greet us. Perfect.
We arrived at the family home and were greeted by señor Amando Sr. and his wife Irma. This was a five‑generation mezcal dynasty, and they wasted no time. Out came a vessel of Papalomé, followed by Espadín—the only other maguey distillation we’d sample on this whirlwind trip. He also brought out a Papalomé madurado en vidrio (matured in glass) for 12 years. Unfortunately it was his private stash and not for sale.
Inside, the walls was a gallery of agave devotion: a grainy photo of young AAA astride a rearing stallion. What a shot! What a stud!
There was also a photographic depiction of Mayahuel, the female deity associated with the agave plant among pre-Hispanic cultures of Mexico.
These renderings run the gamut. Here’s one that serves as the basis for the brand Rambha Mezcal from Rosario Ángeles Vásquez. She told us she was concerned her mother wouldn’t appreciate it much at first, but apparently she gave her blessing–or at least her toleration.
We found this one back in 2020 at Mezcal Emperatriz in Santa María del Tule, which takes things in a decidedly sultry direction.
Señor Amando offered to take us to the palenque, but time was short and Ciro’s and my patience for long return trips shorter. So we snapped up some Papalomé and Espadín, shelled out some pesos, said our goodbyes and motored on.
Alejandro Jiménez
Next up was the home of 44 year old Alejandro Jiménez, a third generation maestro mezcalero. This was a very open floor plan, and while we sat around the periphery of the back wall, his wife Rosa María and daughter Berenice were getting mezcal ready for tasting. And guess what el maestro had for us?
If you guess Papalomé you’re following along! All fermented in cowhide and distilled in clay.
Not only would we get the trademark Ixcatlán hospitality, but we were also treated to a couple of tunes played by 12 year old son Yael to boot. Sporting a sweet red track suit he launched into a couple of brief crowd-pleasing ditties that brought our sincere applause…
The families are just lovely in Santa María Ixcatlán. Hospitality here isn’t an option; it’s a mandate. We left with fresh bottles and full hearts.
Basically Puebla?
It hit me on the drive back: Santa María Ixcatlán’s terrain felt different—dusty, rugged, sorta‑Puebla. Turns out the village sits a mere five miles south of the Puebla border. Plus Papalomé is a primary maguey in much of Puebla too, and that state’s producers are also often known to ferment in cowhide and distill in clay.
This was our final palenque of the week, but far from the end of the story. In the next installment, we’ll dive into our last tasting: a terrific Friday afternoon day-drinking affair.
If it isn’t obvious: I do this newsletter because I love every delicious drop—and because these small‑batch producers deserve the spotlight. You don’t need to be a Mezcal Maniac to visit them. Also, if you find yourself in San Miguel de Allende, hit me up. We’ll meet if we can!
So nice. You missed my favorite palenque, from Señor Amando. It was the most peacefull hideout you could ever imagine. All the water comes piped in from a spring above, all gravity flow thru the palenque and out to the stream below. A pocket of lush growth that tells you surface water is here. I have a wonderful picture of his wife Irma in her kitchen. Of course we had a nice dinner with them. Their son Amando was off in CDMX promiting their mezcal. We showed up completely unannounced and it didn't mater, the timing was perfect with hospitality like this.