Take moment to enjoy Tequila
TEQUILA, Mexico – Long before Spanish conquistadors marched into northwestern Mexico to establish the settlement of Guadalajara in 1532, indigenous Nahuatl Indians had discovered the bacchanal benefits of fermenting the sugary juice of the sweet heart of a ripe agave cactus.
That milky, pungent drink, known as pulque, was the forerunner of tequila.
Although I’ve traveled throughout Mexico for more than 25 years, my interest in tequila rarely extended beyond an occasional margarita. But it took only a sip of icy cold, crystal-clear El Tesoro de Don Felipe Silver to transform forever my misperception of the legendary liquor.
This was not the tequila of nasty hangovers and spring-break binges. The handcrafted elixir touched my tongue with an exhilarating warmth and complexity that I would have expected from only the finest of French cognacs. It was at once bold and peppery, yet smooth and sublime, with a slight hint of fruitiness.
A tasting can infuse visitors with enthusiasm to learn more – both about the spirit and its namesake town.
Roughly 98 percent of all tequila is born in the agave (pronounced ah-GAH-vay) fields surrounding the town of Tequila, a charming village of cobbled streets and ocher-colored walls 30 miles northwest of Guadalajara in the state of Jalisco.
Premium tequilas are made from 100 percent blue agave. Liquor distilled from other agaves includes pulque, the primitive fermentation still produced and consumed locally, and mescal, a harsh and fiery cousin of tequila distilled mostly in the state of Oaxaca and famous – or infamous, perhaps – for the worm (an agave grub) usually inserted during the bottling process.
In 1978, the Mexican government established a set of laws to govern the production of tequila, much as the French Appellation Controllee oversees the production of cognac. Top-quality tequilas must be made from agave grown in strictly defined zones, most notably Jalisco and small designated districts within the states of Nayarit, Michoacan, Guanajuato and Tamaulipas.
Until early 2005, tequila was produced and sold in four categories: tequila blanco (white or “silver”); tequila joven abocado (“gold”); tequila reposado (rested or aged a minimum of two months); and tequila anejo (aged at least one year).
Now there’s a fifth category, extra anejo, indicative of the international market trend toward top-end brands. This tequila must be aged at least three years.
Agave distillate is naturally clear and colorless. When aged in oak barrels, it achieves added flavor and color.
Contrary to popular opinion, though, gold tequila does not gain its color from aging in oak but rather from the addition of caramel in the production process. To retain its signature clearness, silver tequila undergoes aging in stainless steel for whatever period its maker deems necessary.
“A premium, 100 percent agave blanco is preferred for mixing margaritas by most sophisticated drinkers,” says Bob Denton, a pioneer importer of ultra-premium tequila.
“Unadulterated by caramel coloring or flavoring, or even the complexities of oak as found in the anejos, a good blanco better complements the bittersweet orange flavor of Cointreau or triple sec and the tartness of freshly squeezed limes,” explains Denton, whose Robert Denton & Co. imported premium El Tesoro tequila until the 2004 purchase of the brand by American distiller Jim Beam.
“In my opinion, the color and flavor of caramel or oak competes with the clarity and bright taste one should look for in a classic margarita.”
True tequila connoisseurs pan the popular ritual of licking a pinch of salt from one’s hand, downing (or “shooting”) a caballito (pony or shot glass) of tequila then biting on a slice of lime.
“Such a process might well ameliorate the unpleasant impact of gulping down a harsh, inferior tequila,” says Lucinda Hutson, author of “Tequila: Cooking With the Spirit of Mexico” (Ten Speed Press, 1995).
“But in reality it’s just a popularization of a rowdy machismo ritual born long ago in border-town bars. Good tequila is for savoring, not slamming,” says Hutson, a Texan who has lived off and on in Mexico.
“Tequila is to sophisticated Mexicans what fine wine is to the French – an integral part of a leisurely meal,” she adds.
“Mexicans normally imbibe tequila neat (straight up) in caballitos. Extolling its virtues as an aperitif, they sip a shot of blanco or reposado before eating, or savor one between the many courses of a traditional Mexican meal. Afterward, they often partake of a mellow anejo – as richly satisfying as a fine cognac.”
Most foreigners know the name, but few imagine there is an actual place called Tequila. It is a town of 55,000, nestled in a valley beneath a dormant 9,700-foot volcano. Surrounding it are thousands of carefully cultivated acres of blue-green agave fields that blanket the hillsides.
Tequila residents, most of whom are employed in the fields or distilleries, say it is a magical place where relative prosperity has always come to those willing to do the hard work required to make tequila.
The town is home to about a dozen distilleries, predominant among them the two industry giants, Cuervo and Sauza. Their massive, modern operations (now owned by multinational firms Grand Metropolitan and Beam Global Spirits, respectively) work on three shifts around the clock to produce the lion’s share of nearly 210 million liters of tequila exported annually.
According to the best records available, Cuervo is the oldest continuously operating distillery in town. In 1795, King Charles IV of Spain issued a license to Jose Maria Guadalupe Cuervo to manufacture mescal. Sometime in the early 19th century, tequila production began.
Sauza has a long history as well, founded by Don Cenobio Sauza in 1873. Both companies offer tours with tastings for a nominal fee.
At Sauza’s facilities, a visit begins at Rancho el Indio, an 18th-century Sauza family farm on the edge of town. Visitors learn about the agricultural side of production, perhaps the most fascinating part of the tequila story.
The agave plant takes eight to 12 years to mature and can achieve a height of almost 6 feet. When the plant is ripe, jimadores (harvesters) march in platoons through the fields using a coa – a sharp, half-moon-shaped metal blade with a long wooden handle – to hack off the long, barbed spears and sever the plant from its shallow roots.
The agave’s pineapple-shaped heart, or pina, weighs 50 to 100 pounds and will ultimately yield an average of five to seven liters of tequila.
“In less than three minutes, a jimador can harvest an agave that took 10 years to mature,” says tour guide Jose Luis Rivera. “Grapevines may take as long to produce good fruit, but they do so every year. Agave bears its fruit only once in a lifetime.”
Good planning is vital. This fact became all too apparent about five years ago when skyrocketing demand for tequila overtook growers, who simply couldn’t supply enough agave. Production was cut back, and the price of tequila increased as much as 20 percent.
More than 30 million additional agaves were planted, but production won’t increase substantially for some time.
At Sauza’s La Preservancia Distillery in town, some 400 tons of pinas are conveyed daily into giant stainless steel autoclaves that cook them under steam pressure to begin the process of converting the agave’s inherent starch into fermentable sugars.
The modern Sauza process is dramatically different from methods used at a traditional distillery such as El Tesoro’s La Altena facility. Set on a high plateau northeast of Guadalajara, La Altena is one of a handful of boutique distilleries that continue to honor the old ways of producing tequila.
La Altena uses firebrick hornos, or ovens, to slow-cook the agave for 48 hours and then let it cool another 24 hours. It is then placed in one of the few tahonas, or stone-crushing pits, still in regular use.
A tractor pulls the massive stone around the circle, crushing the agave into pulp to release the sugary juice. The extract is ladled by hand into wooden buckets that are hoisted onto the heads of workers to be dumped into a 3,000-liter fermentation tank.
Next, a secret yeast formula is introduced to ensure the consistent flavor admired by the brand’s growing cadre of aficionados. Once fully fermented, the heady mash passes through its two-stage distillation process in vintage copper-pot stills and is then aged and bottled.
Back in Tequila, the town boasts a pleasant plaza lined with laurel trees, a hulking colonial-era stone church, a tequila museum and Cuervo’s elegant visitor center, where guests can sign up to tour the massive La Rojena Distillery, the oldest and largest of its kind.
A gallery of upscale shops feature Cuervo products but also fine art and handicrafts, jewelry and even a resident Huichol artisan. The delicate, colorful beadwork from the indigenous people of western central Mexico is much in demand.
After a tasty meal at La Fonda restaurant adjacent to the Cuervo visitor center, I set off to return to Guadalajara, where most visitors choose to stay. My route leads past an impressive bronze monument to the hardworking jimadores and a string of rickety tourist stands selling souvenirs and cheap tequila in fake oak barrels and plastic jugs.
In the countryside again and passing through endless rows of agave, I can’t help but agree with locals who consider as magical this place where red soil grows blue plants.