In modern Mexico, tequila is moving out of the cantina and onto the best tables, as Ian Wisniewski discovers. Photographs by Francesca Yorke.
Why do so many people blame their worst hangovers on tequila, as if it's the fault of the drink rather than the drinker? And I keep hearing those Refrains Posing As Knowledge: "It's made from cactus," and "It's the one with the worm in." Wrong on both counts. Tequila is produced from the agave plant, which is a succulent and strictly speaking not a cactus; and it's mezcal, a related spirit, that harbours the worm.
I know because I spent three weeks in Guadalajara, deep in Mexico's tequila country, and visited a different distillery every day. I would leave the hotel in the morning, hike across agave fields to see how the plants are cultivated and harvested, then attend meetings at the distillery to view the equipment and production process. A late lunch - with tastings - would bring the day to a close at around 7pm.
In spite of this routine, no two days were the same. Every step of the production process offers choices that can affect the resultant tequila, and no two distillers do things in exactly the same way. After starting with the industry's two giants, José Cuervo and Sauza, I then visited producers such as Cazadores and Don Julio, which are both expanding due to soaring demand, and at the other extreme, Tres Mujeres, which is still essentially a cottage industry.
I also encountered a rare anachronism. The L'Altena distillery, which produces Tapatio and El Tesoro tequilas, eschews most forms of mechanisation and sticks to the hands-on methods of the 19th century. Its distiller put me through an historic initiation: tasting tequila straight from a copper pot still, out of a hollow bull's horn. This ritual dates from the Spanish colonists' practice of drinking alcohol from bulls' horns, in the absence of glasses. This one was full to the brim with distillation-strength tequila (65 per cent abv). As it was only 11am, I took just a small sip. "Drink it all," the distiller urged. I threw it back, never one to forego an authentic experience.
A big advantage of drinking tequila Mexican-style is that it's usually accompanied by botanas (delicious hors d'oeuvres). These range from guacamole and chorizo to cactus salad, barbacoa (barbecued lamb), chicharron (fried pork crackling), and the wonderfully refreshing pico de gallo (chopped cucumber, pineapple, carrot, orange and jicama - a firm, white root vegetable - seasoned liberally with lime juice, salt and ground chilli).
Tequila is descended from an Aztec drink called pulque. According to Aztec legend, the gods struck an agave plant with a bolt of lightning, which split it open and cooked its heart. The sap that oozed out was believed to be lightning turned into nectar and, once fermented, the state of intoxication it induced was thought to be a mystical condition. Consequently, pulque was initially the preserve of priests, who believed it gave them a direct connection to the gods, particularly to Mayahuel, the goddess of agave.
Pulque was just an unpleasant native drink to the Spanish, who began colonising Mexico in the 1520s. The only way to improve it was by distillation, a process unknown to the Aztecs. Experiments with different species of agave showed that the best spirit was produced from blue agave, which grows around the town of Tequila, in what is now the state of Jalisco. This provided a hub for the drink and, of course, a name. Commercial distillation was also a Spanish innovation. Pedro Sanchez de Tagle led the way with his La Antigua Cruz in 1753, followed by José Maria Guadalupe Cuervo, who set up in 1795. La Antigua Cruz didn't last, but Cuervo did, and remains the world's top-selling brand.
Blue agave is still cultivated mainly in Jalisco, although the denomination of origin, established in the 1970s to protect the product's quality and reputation, has recently expanded to include some of the neighbouring states, such as Guanajuato, Michoacan, Nayaro and Tamaulipas. The state of Jalisco alone could no longer sustain the increased worldwide demand for tequila.
Agave can be grown from seed, but no one bothers to do this as, from the age of three, an agave plant becomes a 'mother' (the technical term), producing hijuelos (rhizomes), which are sliced off and replanted by the jimadores (harvesters), who undertake all aspects of the plant's cultivation. Agave doesn't need irrigation, but it does take between eight and 10 years to reach maturity. The vicious, sword-like leaves are sliced off by the jimadores to reveal the heart of the plant, known as the piña (Spanish for pineapple, which it resembles), which is the only part used in tequila. Piñas, which can weigh up to 100kg, are chopped up, steamed and shredded, and the sugars are then extracted by running jets of water through the agave pulp. This yields aguamiel (honey water), which is fermented and distilled twice in pot stills.
Two styles of tequila are produced. In 100 per cent agave, all the fermentable sugars are derived from the agave plant, while in blended, or standard tequila, up to 49 per cent of sugars can be from other sources, usually molasses or piloncillo (crystallised sugar cane juice). Although connoisseurs prefer 100 per cent agave, adding other sugars to dilute the agave can be an improvement, depending on whether you prefer the agave flavours to be tamed or unbridled.
Different degrees of ageing also yield various styles of tequila. The original, unaged tequila is blanco, or silver, and provides the clearest agave aromas and flavours. More complex styles combine earthy notes with spices such as cinnamon and nutmeg. Reposado, aged for between two and 11 months, combines vanilla and caramel characteristics with a lightly smoky spiciness. Añejo, aged for at least a year, is marked by a more intense vanilla and caramel flavour, with hints of honey and dark chocolate, cooked fruit and char-grilled, vegetal notes.
Specialist producers have recently started experimenting with longer ageing and different types of barrels. Don Julio Real is a blend of three- and five-year-old tequilas; José Cuervo's Reserva de la Familia is aged for five years in an underground cellar (ground level is the norm); and El Tesoro de Don Felipe Paradiso spends two years in former bourbon barrels, followed by two years in old cognac barrels, and a final year in large oak vats for it to mellow further. The result is a superbly smooth tequila, with an elegant agave flavour emerging from a lush caramel and vanilla taste. Despite the growing demand for premium tequila, this is as far as the process can go. If aged for more than five years, tequila loses its agave flavour and resembles a brandy.
This type of specialisation is one reason why tequila has emerged as the national spirit of Mexico. Despite being long-perceived as a merely rustic spirit, tequila's sales are now approaching those of brandy and rum, traditionally the biggest sellers in Mexico. And rather than being served with a mixer, it is increasingly served neat, with reposado the choice of urban style-leaders, men and women alike.
Once dismissed as an 'ignoble' spirit, particularly compared to the aristocratic clique that includes cognac and malt whisky, tequila now enthrals connoisseurs as readily as it entices newcomers.