Mastering Mezcal
In the Mexican state of Oaxaca, the last remaining craft producers are defending the traditional culture of mezcal, a spirit renowned for its subtle flavours. Eduardo Ángeles is one of these artisans: his family has distilled this alcoholic brew for four generations. He shares his passion here.
Mezcal is made from agave, known as maguey in Mexico
In Eduardo Ángeles’ palenque (primitive distillery), the mezcal vapours are enough to make your head spin. It is noon, and this man is preparing to com- pose a new batch of this agave spirit that can have an alcohol content of 55° (110 proof). With laser focus, as though solving a maths problem, the maestro mezcalero fills a jícara (a small, woody container typically made from the fruit of the calabash tree) with the precious spirit made from agave juice, inhales the scent wafting up from it, takes a small taste and shakes his head. It does not yet have the desired flavour. “It’s about balance,” says Eduardo. “We assemble a mezcal the same way we cook a dish.” We are in Santa Catarina Minas in Oaxaca, 500 kilometres southeast of Mexico City, with landscapes worthy of a west- ern film set: arid mountains, cacti and dusty roads. Eduardo Ángeles, 43, is considered one of the greatest experts in making mezcal. “It’s a skill that requires a lot of practice,” he notes. “For example, to determine exactly when to stop fermentation and start the distillation process, you have to use all your senses, sniffing the scent of the liquid, tasting it to assess bitterness, observing and even listening to the bubbles on the barrel’s surface.” Mezcal is made from agave, known as maguey in Mexico. This succulent plant manages to grow in arid or semi-arid soils by storing water and takes from five and thirty years to reach maturity. After being harvested, the agave hearts are cooked in ovens that are actually dug into the earth, and are then crushed and mixed with water in vats or barrels. They are then left to ferment for a week or more. “Then it’s time for distillation,” Eduardo continues. “I use clay stills, because I prefer their taste, but other mezcaleros choose copper stills. From harvesting the magueys to bottling, it takes more than three weeks of non-stop work.” Mezcal had long been viewed as commonplace “rotgut,” while tequila — also produced from agave via primarily industrial methods — was gaining popularity by virtue of aggressive marketing. But over the past fifteen years, mezcal has received greater attention in Mexico and around the world. According to the Mezcal Regulatory Council, consumption and export of the product have doubled in the past five years, and it can now be enjoyed in the world’s finest dining establishments. The spirit’s sophisticated texture and taste are also subtly enhanced in special cocktails served in bars from New York to London, Berlin to Shanghai. From his palenque in Santa Catarina Minas, with his feet firmly planted on his native soil, Eduardo has set himself the task of educating the world about the drink’s importance to his country’s cul- ture: “Mezcal isn’t just an alcoholic beverage — it’s a part of every moment of our existence. We drink it at ceremo- nies; we rub it on our skin if we’re sick or have a fever.”
“ Our ancient technique is the only viable way to produce mezcal ”
Soil preservation
Like a handful of other mezcaleros who take care not to disrupt the region’s ecosystems, which could be threat- ened by an overproduction of mezcal, Eduardo Ángeles is determined to resist the siren song of industrialisa- tion. He produces about 5,000 litres of mezcal a year under the trademark Lalocura, sometimes also labelled Sacapalabras. That’s not much compared to the giant distilleries that can churn out a hundred times that amount in the same period. “I could produce more and make more money, but the priority is preserving the soil, and not depleting our natural resources,” continues Eduardo. “That’s a tough task, because mezcal produc- tion has now become a competitive enterprise. Today, only 10% of producers are small independent artisans, like me. But our ancient technique is the only viable model for producing mezcal, given the land’s aridity and the intensifying drought caused by climate change.” His obstinacy could be paying off, as the renewed inter- est in mezcal coincides with the enthusiasm of today’s consumers for authentic, artisanal and organic products. Eduardo pours another batch of liquid into his jícara, The agave plants in the fields require daily maintenance. The longer the mezcal pearls (bubbles) last, the more successful the distillation. then adds a bit more cola — the last, bitterest drops of the distillate. He takes a small sip, lets the aromas permeate his palate, and breaks into a wide grin. After several unsuccessful attempts, Eduardo has finally created the exact flavour he wanted his mezcal to have.
