Mezcal is weird. It’s smoky, earthy, and sometimes tastes like a campfire in a way that makes your first sip feel like a dare. For decades, it was just "that stuff with the worm," a dusty bottle at the back of the liquor cabinet that nobody really touched. But things changed. Fast. Now, you can’t walk into a high-end bar in Brooklyn or Mexico City without seeing rows of clay bottles and bartenders talking about "terroir" like they’re sommeliers in Bordeaux.
Mezcal is essentially the parent category of tequila, but it’s a much wilder beast. While tequila is strictly made from Blue Weber agave in specific regions, mezcal can be made from over 30 different types of agave. It’s the difference between a mass-produced lager and a funky, spontaneous-fermentation sour ale. It’s unpredictable.
Why Mezcal Isn't Just "Smoky Tequila"
People get this wrong constantly. They think if they like tequila, they’ll love mezcal. Kinda. But the process is what sets it apart. To make mezcal, the hearts of the agave plants—called piñas—are roasted in underground pits lined with hot rocks. This is where that signature smoke comes from. It’s literally baking in the earth for days.
Tequila usually steams its agave in industrial ovens (autoclaves). It’s efficient. It’s clean. Mezcal? It’s messy. It’s laborious. You have people like the Real Minero family in Oaxaca who still use clay pot stills, which are notoriously fragile and produce tiny batches. When you drink a bottle of high-end mezcal, you’re often drinking something that took 15 years to grow and two weeks of manual labor to ferment.
The sheer variety of agave species is staggering. You’ve got Espadín, which is the workhorse of the industry. It’s easy to grow and accounts for about 90% of what you see on shelves. Then you have the wild ones. Tobalá. Tepeztate. Arroqueño. These plants don’t play by the rules. A Tepeztate agave can take 25 to 30 years to reach maturity. Think about that. Someone planted that agave before the iPhone existed, just so you could have a cocktail tonight.
The Problem with the Hype
Sustainability is the elephant in the room. Honestly, the mezcal industry is at a breaking point. Because it’s become so trendy, demand is skyrocketing, but the plants can’t keep up. Agave isn't corn. You can't just replant it and harvest next season. If a producer harvests all the wild Tobalá in an area to meet a big order from a US distributor, that local ecosystem is basically toasted for a generation.
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We’re seeing "agave poaching" now. People are literally stealing plants under the cover of night. It’s getting intense. Experts like Dr. Iván Saldaña, a biologist and the creator of Montelobos, have been vocal about the need for semi-cultivation. We have to move away from just "hunting" wild agave and start farming it responsibly, even if it loses some of that "wild" mystique.
Decoding the Label: Ancestral vs. Artesanal
If you look at a bottle, you’ll see these words. They aren't just marketing fluff; they are legal definitions regulated by the CRM (Consejo Regulador del Mezcal).
- Mezcal Industrial: This is the stuff made in big steel diffusers. It’s rare to find "good" mezcal in this category. It’s built for volume.
- Mezcal Artesanal: This is the sweet spot. The agave is roasted in pits and fermented in wood or stone. It’s usually crushed by a tahona—a giant stone wheel pulled by a horse or mule.
- Mezcal Ancestral: This is the hardcore stuff. No metal allowed. The agave must be crushed by hand (with wooden bats) and distilled in clay pots. It’s incredibly labor-intensive and tastes like liquid history.
Prices reflect this. If you see a bottle for $25, it’s probably industrial. If it’s $100, you’re paying for the decades the plant spent in the ground and the literal sweat of the palenquero (the maker).
How to Drink It Without Looking Like a Tourist
Stop shooting it. Please. Mezcal is meant to be sipped. In Oaxaca, they say you should "kiss" the mezcal. Tiny sips. Let it coat your tongue. If you slam it back, you’re just getting a throat full of smoke and alcohol burn, missing the notes of tropical fruit, wet earth, or green pepper that make the spirit special.
Traditionally, it’s served in a veladora (a small glass candle holder) or a jicara (a dried gourd bowl). The wide rim of the jicara lets the alcohol vapors disperse so you can actually smell the agave instead of just stinging your nostrils.
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The Orange Slice and Sal de Gusano
You’ve probably seen the orange slices and the reddish salt served on the side. That’s sal de gusano—worm salt. It’s made from toasted larvae that live in the agave plant, mixed with chili and salt. It sounds gross to some, but it’s actually the perfect bridge between the smokiness of the drink and the sweetness of the fruit. It resets your palate. Try it.
The Celebrity Influx
We have to talk about the "Casamigos effect." After George Clooney sold his tequila brand for a billion dollars, every celebrity decided they needed a spirit brand. Bryan Cranston and Aaron Paul have Dos Hombres. LeBron James has Lobos 1707.
Is celebrity mezcal bad? Not necessarily. But it does change the market. It prioritizes "smoothness" and consistency over the weird, funky characteristics that make mezcal interesting. When you standardize a product for a global market, you often lose the soul of the small-batch palenque. If you want the real experience, look for brands that name the producer on the back of the label. Brands like Del Maguey, Vago, or Rey Campero are great starting points because they focus on the people actually making the juice.
Understanding the "Maguey"
In Mexico, they often call the plant maguey instead of agave. It’s a cultural distinction. The plant is sacred. It provides fibers for clothes, needles for sewing, and, of course, the sap for pulque (a fermented, milky drink that pre-dates mezcal).
When you’re buying, pay attention to the species of maguey used:
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- Espadín (Agave angustifolia): The most common. Balanced, fruit-forward, and usually the best for cocktails like a Mezcal Negroni.
- Tobalá (Agave potatorum): The "King of Mezcals." It’s tiny, grows in the shade of oak trees, and tastes incredibly floral and complex.
- Madrecuixe (Agave karwinskii): These grow tall like stalks. They have an herbal, almost savory flavor profile. Think rosemary and scorched earth.
The Future of the Spirit
The next few years are going to be rocky. We’re seeing a lot of consolidation. Big companies like Diageo and Pernod Ricard are buying up smaller brands. While this helps with distribution, it puts pressure on producers to cut corners.
There's also the issue of "Mezcal de Pechuga." This is a special type of mezcal where a raw chicken or turkey breast is hung inside the still during the second or third distillation. The vapors pass through the meat, adding a savory richness and mouthfeel. It’s usually reserved for weddings or festivals. If you find a bottle, buy it. It’s a rare window into the ceremonial side of Mexican culture.
Actionable Steps for Your Next Bottle
Don't just grab the coolest-looking label. If you want to explore mezcal properly, do this:
- Check the ABV. Good mezcal is rarely 40% (80 proof). It’s usually higher—between 45% and 52%. Lower alcohol often means it’s been watered down, which kills the flavor.
- Look for the state of origin. Oaxaca produces the most, but Michoacán, Guerrero, and Durango make incredible, distinct styles.
- Avoid bottles that don't list the type of agave used. Transparency is everything in this industry.
- Start with an Espadín to get your bearings, then move to a Cupreata or a Cirial to see how much the flavor can shift.
- Skip the "mezcal cocktails" at first. Try it neat at room temperature. You can always add ice or lime later, but you can't un-mix a $15 pour once it's in the glass.
The world of mezcal is deep, dusty, and a little bit dangerous for your wallet. But once you find a bottle that clicks, tequila will never taste quite the same again. It’s a journey into a specific time and place, captured in a bottle that took decades to grow. Treat it with a little respect, and it’ll give you a lot more than just a buzz.