In 2008, I transitioned from brewpub beer-slinger to serious restaurant professional. Coming from a world of blueberry ales and frozen jalapeno poppers I had a lot to learn. I didn’t know merlot from Manischewitz, but I knew I liked IPAs and this weird new thing called Fernet Branca that tasted a bit like toothpaste and got my whole body drunk. Months later, I wrapped my head around the concept of terroir, a French term referring to the location specific conditions that give products like wine and coffee their local flavor. Terroir (combined with variations in production methods) is why Napa chardonnay tastes nothing like white Burgundy and why Brazilian coffee is creamier than Costa Rican. Well, one night I was out with coworkers at Olé in Inman Square, comparing tequilas from the highlands and lowlands of Jalisco. I recall noticing how soil composition and elevation drastically affected the product. Something changed for me that night and I began to understand that there was more to alcohol consumption than consumption.
Later that year, our restaurant brought in the complete line of Del Maguey mezcals and for the first time I got to taste pure expressions of terroir. Every bottle represented a different village in Oaxaca, each with its own traditions and micro climates. The complexity of these mezcals was incredible, outpacing anything I’d previously experienced.
Often described as tequila meets Scotch, Mezcal is the OG agave distillate that smokes a pack a day and can’t be bothered to get a smartphone. Its fumy backbone sets it apart from tequila but it is ethos more than flavor that really separate the two. By and large, tequila is mass produced, made exclusively from blue agave in large manufacturing plants. Mezcal, on the other hand, is hand crafted, utilizing around 30 varieties of agave. Mezcaleros harvest the hearts of the agave, called the pina, and smoke them in a pit over hot stones. Then they are crushed, usually by a horse drawn millstone. Water is added and they are left to ferment using natural yeast in open tanks made of wood, cement or leather. It’s then double distilled in clay or copper pot stills. Occasionally fruits, botanicals and even raw meat (for the Christmas mezcal called pechuga) are introduced to impart flavor but it’s usually left untouched, producing a spirit that runs between 45 and 55 percent alcohol. (So no body shots, dad!)
Misty Kalkofen is a veteran Boston bartender who now works for Del Maguey as their East Coast Juez or brand ambassador. She retired her shaker tins to spread the word of agave and the brand responsible for introduction single village mezcal to the American palate.
“I think the beverage world is following food trends and consumers are more interested in where their spirits come from, how they’re produced and the people who make them,” Kalkofen says. “Traditional mezcals are the slow food of the spirits world. The producer takes care of the agave from planting through harvest (which can take up to 35 years) all the way through distillation. It's a process that has been handed down for hundreds of years and is directly tied to the history and culture of the people who produce it.”
Mezcal is perfect for consumers who value tradition and crave authenticity. Thanks to objectionable marketing ploys like DEWShine, the concept of “artisanal” may have lost luster but there is a very real desire to connect with products not associated with big business and big box stores. That’s why some shoppers eagerly pay a premium for heritage pork and growlers of Heady Topper.
In her book,How the Gringos Stole Tequila, Chantal Martineau explains this aspect of mezcal’s appeal. “As one brand owner defines it, the mezcal here is “pre-organic.” It’s often made from wild agaves as opposed to cloned, farmed plants. In many cases the agave is harvested by the same hand that will ferment and distill it. The spirits made here are truly small-batch, as artisanal as it gets.”
Now you know what mezcal is, but what’s the best way to drink it? For one, you can sip it neat, from small clay cups called copitas (regular glasses work just fine), just don’t ask for salt and limes. Lately, I’ve noticed bar programs using mezcal in their signature cocktails, often in place of tequila drinks.
I brought my observation to Kalkofen. “I think bartenders appreciate the diversity and complexity of flavors found in well made mezcal,” she says. “It adds depth and flavor to cocktails whether as a base spirit or as a modifying ingredient.”
Over at Spoke in Somerville, bartender Liz Mann uses mezcal, fernet, falernum, lime and a housemade beet shrub (drinking vinegar) in a cocktail she calls the surfer rosa #2 bringing together all these savory and earthy components in one beautiful, deep purple drink.
“I borrowed the concept from Gavin Beaudry who runs the bar at The Black Birch in Kittery, Maine,” she says. “Putting the shrub together was really cool. You don’t get those vegetable flavors in a lot of cocktails. Mixing in the fernet gives it a menthol quality and elevates all the earthy components. It was a fun combination to come up with and now it’s one of the most popular cocktails on the menu.”
Over at No. 9 Park, bar manager Ryan Lotz, often uses cocktails as a way to introduce guests to mezcal. “Typically when we try to introduce mezcal we’ll use tequila as a bridge,” he says. “The Oaxacan old fashioned is a tequila drink modified with a half ounce of mezcal as well as agave, mole bitters and angostura bitters.”
Despite its current popularity, Lotz admitted mezcal still has a bit of a perception problem. “To this day you still get people who expect the worm at the bottom of the glass,” he said. “We’ll pour them a taste side by side with some tequila so they can pick up on the similarities. It’s something new even though it has such a long history”
Mezcal’s always had a bit of magic attached to it. From the (incorrect) association with mescaline or the (erroneous) claims of an aphrodisiac worm, there’s something about the spirit that feels otherworldly. But psychedelics and sorcery don’t make mezcal great. Quite the opposite. It’s an incredibly grounded product that connotes time and place better than most. It got me excited about my work and keeps me interested nearly a decade later. There’s a Oaxacan saying, Para todo mal, mezcal, y para todo bien, también. For every ill, mezcal, and for every good as well. And when you drink mezcal, it’s hard not to feel like everything’s a little better. So yeah, maybe mezcal is kind of magical.
Spoke - 89 Holland St., Somerville, 617-718-9463, spokewinebar.com
No. 9 Park - 9 Park St., Boston, 617-742-9991 no9park.com
