The Blue Agave Forum: The Blue Agave Forum -> Mike Morales' Blog

In a previous entry, I lamented on how the editor of men.style.com, a Conde Nast company and the metrosexual website of GQ, had mangled my tequila reviews for their Upgrader segment.

The opportunity arose last year as I was in the middle of wedding plans. When the editor said he needed an “expert” to write these reviews, someone who had “been to the distilleries,” my ego couldn’t turn him down, no matter how busy I was.

The scope and focus of the piece was nebulous with only a few guidelines. The most important one was…

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“Assume the audience has some level of knowledge (stylish guys in their 20s and 30s making a decent living, but not billionaires) and experience, and keep them both entertained and informed.”

From our first phone conversation, I discovered that he had little or no knowledge of any spirit, let alone tequila. I decided to take this opportunity to teach my metrosexual editor and his audience more about my beloved agave spirit.

Now that their check is safely tucked away in my bank account, the truth about men.style.com can be told.

I feel like a high priced call girl. Maybe I should rephrase that:

I feel like a hired gun. Except that I didn’t hit my mark.

Okay—now I feel like a cheap two-dollar hooker. A slut. And a very bad one, at that. I didn’t even get to second base!

Let me explain.



The editors planned to have an Editor's Pick section among the first 15 tequilas chosen, so samples had to be sent to the magazine for tasting and photos. Because at the time there was still no real direction to the piece, the spread of samples ranged from blancos to extra añejos.

At one point, men.style’s photo editor contacted me to help sort out the terminology and to arrange for artwork.

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“Can you help us with sorting out/getting images for the tequila's below?:

-We spoke to Gran Patron, they don't seem have an extra anejo. The Gran Patron Burdeos anejo seems to be correct one. (we have that image already but want to make sure this is the one you're referring to in your list.)

- Herradura Seleccion Suprema extra anejo (the bottle says nothing, just the name)

-1800 Coleccion--they are not really getting back to us. They sent a bunch of images of just the 1800 but the Coleccion is a very different bottle, correct?”

Rolling my eyes and shaking my head, I made a few phone calls and wrote some e-mails to my contacts. I was able to secure most of the samples and artwork for them.

At one point, my local New Mexico Diageo rep contacted someone in PR, who got in touch with a New York Diageo official who at the time was on a plane to Los Angeles! When he landed, he immediately had samples of Reserva de la Familia delivered to men.style’s offices in New York.

How’s that for efficiency?

Throughout the writing process with the editor, he chose some of the most offbeat items to question me about. For instance…

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WHAT IS THE OLDEST [distillery]?

WHAT DOES ARTESENAL MEAN?

EXPAND ON "HOT" [finish]

WHAT'S THE NORM FOR FEMALE WORKFORCE %S??

I NEED MORE ON WHAT YOU MEAN BY DISTILLED TO PROOF.

WHAT DOES SAUZA TRANSLATE AS?

IS THERE REALLY A CUERVO FAMILY?

is Tezon one we should be aware of? (He even sent me the ad from an online magazine where Tezon’s tag line was “Take your tequila beyond Patron." Pa-leeze!)

I just want to be sure all the others we chose are sipping tequilas??

And my two favorites were…

When Neil Simon allowed Gran Centenario to be mentioned in his play Sweet Charity, he asked,

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“Did you have any primary sourcing on this? As in, did you ever speak to anybody at Gran Centenario about it? Is it possible to?”

My answer to him was,

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“How wrong can USA Today and the NY Times be?”

And the other question…

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“Is Don Julio still alive?”

That one caused quite a stir on the forum!

The myriad of questions he asked with seemingly no direction was certainly amusing. Like Master Po, I patiently answered the confused Grasshopper.

My ability to coordinate solutions for men.style.com amid all this confusion made me feel like I was accomplishing my goal. It wasn’t until he finally decided to concentrate on añejos priced under $100 that the purpose for these seemingly random questions finally dawned on me.

I should have paid attention when he asked that the finished reviews be sent to his personal e-mail address at home instead of to his office.



The ineptitude of the behemoth magazine conglomerate also reached into the payroll department. My contract stated:

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“Freelancer will not, until 90 days after the initial publication write, publish or disseminate …on the same or a similar subject….”

Essentially, this was a 90-day non-compete clause. What they didn’t tell me was that this was also the length of time it took them to relocate my signed, faxed, and e-mailed copies of my contract!

Each day that went by, and with each phone call I made to their payroll department asking for payment, left me with a sour taste in my mouth. Funny thing was, when I finally received the check, that cheap, slutty feeling became even worse.

To add salt to the insult--or was is fire to the wound?—I didn’t even receive a byline! That’s where I drew the line. The way the final reviews turned out, I wouldn’t have taken credit for them, anyway!

Because most of the tequilas selected are from distillers and producers whom I count among my most dearest friends and acquaintances, it was important to me that they be portrayed accurately and with dignity. After all, wasn’t the target market “stylish guys in their 20s and 30s making a decent living” and “has some level of knowledge” and “experience”?

The resulting reviews fell far short of that. Men.style.com refused to recognize that their audience had one iota of knowledge about sipping tequilas. These trendy mags tend to be superficial, at best.

David Suro, distinguished distiller of Siembra Azúl tequila recently admitted to me that “this approach by magazines [toward tequila] was OK—ten years ago. But now they underestimate the intelligence of the consumer.” It is this mentality that perpetuates the myths and misconceptions about tequila.

I pledged never to sell out again.



With that floozy feeling gone, and enjoying the late spring turning into summer in New Mexico, I was busy wrapping up an important tequila article for a local statewide magazine. It featured five fledgling tequilas with their home operations based in the Southwest. Then, out of nowhere, I received a dreaded e-mail from men.style.com.

Would I consider adding to the original Hot List?

Tears welled up and I swallowed hard. That dirty, nasty, yucky feeling returned, and not even a shower could make me feel clean. I seriously considered declining their offer.

But, I am the expert that they had originally approached. As I mentioned in my previous entry, to their credit they did stick with my original selections. And even though I wasn’t given credit for the Hot List (I even gave them the name!) I felt a responsibility to the reviews.

So, like Michael Corleone in The Godfather III, I got sucked back in!

This time would be different, though. I would demand that I would be an active participant in any rewrites. I would be paid in a timely manner. I would refuse to work with the previous editor, and…

I would demand a byline, dammit!

I was told that the previous editor is no longer working for Conde Nast. The new editor promised to keep me posted on any rewrites. I just received my contract for the next five reviews via fax from their payroll department.

Unfortunately, the Upgrader segment of men.style.com's lumbering website is a template, and they cannot add a byline.

That’s three out of four. Stay tuned. It could get bloody.

So I'm leafing through my June issue of New Mexico Beverage Analyst (based in Denver!), and I see the new ad campaign for Sauza's revamped mixto.

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Step into the refreshing and appetizing world of Sauza Gold and Blanco--a world where the Blue Agave is adored and nurtured. We gently extract the flavorful juices from the agave, and then double distill them for that smooth flavor and ultimate fresh experience you expect from Sauza Gold and Blanco. Whether it's shots or cocktails, Sauza has your customers covered. Step into the unexpected, step into the world of Sauza Gold and Blanco, where you can always Expect Fresh.

Made with gently extracted Blue Agave for Freshness.

I had previously posted about Sauza's springtime ad campaign that included their new look bottles, and is geared toward women and food pairing. Analysts at Sauza believe that women make up almost 50% of the tequila drinking market (duh?!?).

Notice the words "adored," "nurtured," "appetizing," and "fresh." The phrases "gently extracted," and "ultimate fresh experience" also caught my eyes. Not to mention the deliberate capitalization of "Blue Agave."

It never ceases to amaze how marketers who have no idea how tequila is produced, hack out mindless copy and charge thousands of dollars for it. It's also interesting that after all these years, marketing and branding companies with no imagination still try to work the "romance" angle of tequila.

If this is Sauza's attempt to lure women to their mixto brand, they had better try harder. How dumb do they think they are? How about an ad campaign based on reality?

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Ladies...

Tequila production is harsh--very harsh--on blue agave, and has all the charm of your last mammogram!

First its leaves are hacked off with a primative blade, then they're tossed onto a truck with hundreds of other piñas. Once at the distillery, they're axed in half, then quartered.

Next, they're baked or pressure steamed, pulverized under a huge grinding stone, or fed into a shredder.

Every last ounce of blue agave juice is squeezed out, shoveled or siphoned into enormous tanks and fermented to a stinky, boyfriend's-tennis shoe-smelling froth with mounds of sugar!

Can't you just see the extra calories on your thighs, now!

What happens to the discarded chunks and fibers of the blue agave? Like an old girlfriend, they're unceremoniously tossed back onto the ground as fertilizer, compost, if they're lucky.

That upchucky feeling in your throat? Not very "appetizing" is it?

And that splitting headache the next day while you "stepped into the unexpected world of Sauza Gold and Blanco?" No--that's not what "fresh" feels like!

Trade up from mixtos! Sip only 100% agave tequila.

A stand-up tequila will never leave you hungover!

Just thought I'd set the record straight for the other 50% of the tequila drinking sector.

Anatomy Of A Massacre

Side One

As I mentioned in a previous post on the forum, I was involved in writing some tequila reviews for the online home of GQ Magazine, men.style.com. You can view the final piece that went live the morning of Wednesday, 10/17/07. Just go to www.men.style.com and click on The Upgrader--you can't miss it.

Originally, I was asked to write reviews about any tequilas, and to keep in mind that the audience would be somewhat knowledgeable about them. Humor was also a prerequisite. The editors, on the other hand, were complete tequila novices and wanted an expert's opinion on which tequilas to cover. Since the Extra Añejo category is hot right now, I decided to concentrate most of my efforts there. I also covered some of the other forum favorites with interesting background stories.

I naively thought that this was my chance to teach the young upcoming drinking public about 100% agave sipping tequilas. It was also my way to help the industry. I was abruptly halted in mid-stream.

The editors had decided that they wanted to concentrate on introductory añejos only, at a price range of $100 and below. Next, they wanted to include Patrón, Cabo Wabo, Corazón, and 1800. None of these had been included in the original list of tequilas to be reviewed. This decision reeked of politics and special interests--not to mention ad money.

Let me say that what you'll read on their website, I didn't write. I am disappointed that the editors chose to mangle and manipulate what was written to fit their demographic. Alas, I had no control over what was finally served up. Nor, I suspect, did the other experts they hired to cover wines and vodkas in The Upgrader section.

To their credit, they did use most of my selections as "Editors' Picks." They also decided against using my Patrón review since it was not very favorable, and they probably couldn't get any cooperation from them. Also on the upside, they stuck with my original tequila selections, and they used my title.

In the interest of fairness to myself, I am serving up my reviews as I wrote them, here. My hope is that this will help the pre-holiday push for the industry's end of the year sales.

Men.style.com Añejo Tequila
Hot List

Casa Noble

This family owned distillery has been producing tequila since 1776—longer than some of the best-known names in the industry. In 2006, a panel of judges voted its tequilas “Outstanding Tequila of the Decade.” Using only hand picked agave that is slow cooked in stone ovens, then triple distilled, this añejo spends 5 years in French white oak barrels. This nectar loses nothing in the translation, and maintains that agave presence that purists love. Serve this one in a snifter and enjoy! (Tip: Don’t throw away the bottle! The gold accents painted on this black porcelain beauty are real gold!) Men.style.com Exclusive: Casa Noble will leap into the premium añejo arena in 2008 with a new look, and their own extra añejo.

Distillery: La Cofradía
Type: añejo
Abv/Proof: 80/40%
Region: Lowlands
NOM: 1137
Price: Mid to high $90's
Website: www.casanoble.com

Fina Estampa

Their award winning reposado was a silver medalist in the 2005 San Francisco World Spirits Competition, and a Double Gold winner in 2007. With this much consistency in all their varietals, it’s no wonder that this balanced añejo is raved and highly recommended by tequila aficionados. You can't go wrong with this artesanál tequila. Everything from the hand blown bottles to the wood cork tops is handcrafted. Smoky and mysterious--like the buzz they’ve created throughout the industry--this tasty sipper is complex with just the right amount of pepper. Not your average, run-of-the-mill añejo.

Distillery: Tequila Artesanál de Los Altos de Jalisco
Type: añejo
Abv/Proof: 80/40%
Region: Highlands
NOM: 1436
Price: mid $50’s.
Website: www.finaestampatequila.com

Gran Centenario

One of Jose Cuervo's most cherished tequilas. Perfect for sipping neat in a snifter or on the rocks. This añejo's fine woodsy nose is the result of aging in new French Limousin oak barrels for up to 36 months. To make it even more angelic, it’s blended with older tequila reserves. Smooth, nutty, and bursting with spices! It's so popular that author Neil Simon even agreed to rewrite a line mentioning Gran Centenario in his musical, Sweet Charity. Pour yourself a snifter while you're humming those show tunes!

Distillery: Casa Cuervo
Type: añejo
Abv/Proof: 80/40%
Region: Highlands/lowlands
NOM: 1122
Price: low $50's to mid $60’s.
Website: www.grancentenario.com

1800

In the old days, the only 1800 you could find was the mixto version. Rising from a pile of agave ash, 1800 now has a full line of very respectable 100% agave tequilas with its distinctive Cuervo flavor intact. Copper in color, this añejo is oaky with a hot finish. Aged in both American and French oak barrels, it won’t get lost in your favorite margarita recipe. Don’t be fooled by its affordable price, either. 1800 is one of the most awarded and talked about tequilas on the planet.

Distillery: Casa Cuervo
Type: añejo
Abv/Proof: 80/40%
Region: Highlands/lowlands
NOM: 1122
Price: high $30’s to low $40’s
Website: www.1800tequila.com

Corazón de Agave

Located in the town of Arandas in the highlands of Jalisco, this factory is also the home of another favorite tequila, Espolón. Plant mastermind, Cirilo Oropeza, runs the ultra clean distillery with an iron fist. Eighty percent of the work force is female, using them for the bottling, labeling and packaging of this caramel flavored juice. The estate grown agave is harvested by the other 20%--frustrated men with sharp blades—and fermented using only natural yeast cultivated in the distillery's own lab. The result is a sweet, floral tequila with vanilla overtones that’s perfect for slow sipping!

Distillery: Destiladora San Nicolás
Type: añejo
Abv/Proof: 80/40%
Region: Highlands
NOM: 1440
Price: high $40’s to low $50’s.
Website: www.tequilacorazon.com

Cabo Wabo

Over-priced and over-exposed, one thing you can’t accuse Sammy Hagar of being is over easy. Well, after his $80 million dollar sell off of Cabo Wabo to Campari, maybe you can! Whether it’s in concert, on the Indy racecar circuit, or in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, Sammy’s tequila will always evoke memories of sand, surf, and good times. This dark golden añejo is oaky, smoky, and peppery—just like a blonde bikinied beauty. And if you think it’s all fun and games, each of Sammy’s tequilas are industry award winners. Over-hyped? Let your taste buds be the judge.

Distillery: Impulsora Rombo
Type: añejo
Abv/Proof: 80/40%
Region: Highlands
NOM: 1467
Price: mid to high $60's
Website: www.cabowabo.com

Don Julio

Ever wonder if tequilas that start with the word “Don” are named after real people? This one is. Don Julio González Estrada was born on a distillery. Talk about having tequila in his blood. Estate grown agave is hand selected, cooked, fermented and distilled. Then, this valuable liquid is aged 18 months in American oak barrels for just the right combination of citrus, caramel and butterscotch. Wildly popular in Mexico, it continues to be a staple in tequila bars. When that popularity gained momentum in the States, Diageo (Jose Cuervo’s parent company) took notice. It now owns 50% of Mexico’s #1 ultra-premium tequila.

Distillery: Tequila Don Julio
Type: añejo
Abv/Proof: 80/40%
Region: Highlands
NOM: 1449
Price: high $40's to low $50’s
Website: www.thebar.com

Partida

Sofia Partida has a flair for presentation. Traveling the country and teaching tequila aficionados how to pair food with Partida, she has gained an ardent following. Light and airy, this añejo is aged for 18 months to a rich copper color. Its fruit flavors vary from pineapples to bananas, with hints of honey. This one gives the word smooth another definition. If it’s too much of a fruit salad for you—even with some oak and pepper notes thrown in--serve it to your best girlfriend. She’ll wonder where you’ve been hiding it. Make love to it s-l-o-w-l-y.

Distillery: Familia Partida
Type: añejo
Abv/Proof: 40/80%
Region: Highlands
NOM: 1454
Price: high $50’s to low $60’s
Website: www.partidatequila.com

El Tesoro de Don Felipe

Branding itself as “The World’s Best Tasting Tequila,” it very well could be. The list of awards for this añejo is longer than your arm! Claiming to be “the last handcrafted tequila on earth,” this precious juice is the only one distilled to proof. No water is added to keep the fresh agave flavor alive during aging. Like his grandfather before him, Carlos Camarena isn’t only a master distiller, but he’s a genius at barrel selection. Guarded away in oak barrels from 1 to 3 years, this añejo comes at you with wood, fruit and floral notes, but a great agave punch. Perfect!

Distillery: Tequila Tapatío
Type: añejo
Abv/Proof: 80/40%
Region: Highlands
NOM: 1139
Price: high $50’s to low $60’s
Website: www.eltesorotequila.com

4 Copas

You take care of yourself, dress well, and you might even drive a hybrid. You watch what you eat and buy organic everything. But, how about your tequila? Jumping through more hoops than a juggler for Cirque du Soleil, 4 Copas is the only certified organic tequila on the market. CEO Chris Melendez, has surrounded himself with experts from such award winning distilleries as Sauza and Herradura to produce an añejo loaded with a strong agave finish. Hints of vanilla, spices, and toasted almonds rounds out this sipping delight. Don’t worry, drink healthy! Men.style.com Exclusive: 4 Copas will have a new, affordable 4-year-old extra añejo by the end of 2007. Melendez assures that it “can and will go against any extra añejo in the world!”

Distillery: Tequilera La Quemada
Type: añejo
Abv/Proof: 80/40%
Region: Lowlands
NOM: 1457
Price: high 80’s to low $90’s
Website: www.4copas.com

Chinaco

Steeped in history--chinaco warriors defended Mexico in the 1850’s, and again in 1860—Chinaco blazed trails in the early 1980’s by bringing handcrafted artesanál tequila to the US. Somewhat mysterious to most imbibers, it’s a dark horse favorite among hardcore tequila fans. Aged to three years in oak barrels, the rich amber color gives way to floral and vanilla notes with just a hint of pears. Oaky, silky and balanced, this añejo is still defending discerning palates after all these years.

Distillery: Tequilera La Gonzaleña
Type: añejo
Abv/Proof: 80/40%
Region: Tamaulipas
NOM: 1127
Price: mid $50’s to low $60’s
Website: www.chinacotequila.com

Los Abuelos

Produced by a fifth generation Sauza, Guillermo Erickson has revitalized his grandfather's retirement home into the hottest small batch distillery in Mexico. At La Fortaleza, an actual working museum, Guillermo still uses a tahona (grinding stone) to macerate the estate grown agave for the sweetest, smoothest tasting tequila around. Aged in white oak barrels for 18 months, this old school tequila is bottled in hand blown artisan collector’s bottles. Experts agree that its distinctive flavor—minerals, with loads of fresh agave—will carry it a long way. Primarily available on the West Coast.

Distillery: Tequila Los Abuelos
Type: añejo
Abv/Proof: 80/40%
Region: Lowlands
NOM: 1493
Price: high $70's to low 80’s.
Website: www.losabuelos.com

Penca Azúl

One of the few small batch tequila distillers that believe in vintages, their añejo is ”the taste of excellence.” Aged in oak barrels for over 2 years, it achieves a rich golden hue, and a perfect balance of wood and agave. This hard to find añejo will never be confused for a whiskey or bourbon. Guaranteed to knock your socks off! Each hand blown bottle with a unique blue agave plant inside, is numbered by the artist, Hipolito Gutierrez.

Distillery: Tequila La Parreñita
Type: anejo
Abv/Proof: 80/40%
Region: Highlands
NOM: 1115
Price: low $100's.
Website: www.pencazul.com

Reserva de la Familia

Jose Cuervo shines with this rich, amber elixir. Using 10 year old agave, this tequila is then aged for 3 years in oak barrels. The final blend includes family reserves that are aged for 30 years. Definite flavor adjustments from each vintage make it the star at any table, before and after dinner. Special yearly collectors' boxes makes this tequila a must have! Men.style.com Exclusive: “Every Family Has Its Secret” and the Cuervo family are no different, releasing a new Reserva de la Familia platino this past September to rave reviews. Get it!

Distillery: Casa Cuervo
Type: añejo
Abv/Proof: 80/40%
Region: Lowlands
NOM: 1122
Price: Mid $80's to low $90's
Website: www.cuervo.com

Patrón

You've ordered Patrón more than once to trick your friends into thinking you knew all about tequila. Your favorite rap star mentions it in his lyrics. You've even overpaid for a bottle just to have table service at that trendy club in Vegas. Blended from tequilas aged for 12 months in white oak barrels and adjusted for each vintage, this lightly tinged añejo comes in smelling citrusy and spicey. The taste volleys between caramel and chemical. When it first burst onto the scene, Patrón set the standard for exclusive, boutique tequilas. However, having recently constructed their own multimillion dollar distillery, you'd think they could produce a more complex añejo. We'll admit Patrón is the reason that you're even reading about tequilas here. (Hey, they've gotta sell something to pay for that new crib!)

Distillery: Caribbean Distillers Corporation
Type: añejo
Abv/Proof: 80/40%
Region: Highlands
NOM: 1492
Price: high $40's to low $60's
Website: www.patronspirits.com

Friday, March 3, 2006

Waking up in Tequila was becoming as entertaining as the trip itself. My watch alarm again failed to chime. I couldn't understand why since I had just had the battery changed shortly before the trip. This time, instead of the blast whistle rudely sounding off, the bell in the tower of El Templo de La Purísima church rang the city awake. Lying in bed, I counted the clangs.

…Five...six...seven (obviously, the bell ringer was not keeping time!)...eight...nine...ten...eleven...twelve (there was a hesitation)...thirteen.

Crawling out of bed, I recalled Ian Chadwick's forum avatar—a black and white profile of Charles Laughton (or was that Lon Chaney?) in his famous role as Quasimodo. I imagined the Hunchback of Notre Dame pulling on the rope inside the church bell tower at 6 AM—drunk on tequila!

After a quick shave and shower, I grabbed my notebook and camera and headed down to the dining room. This was to be somewhat of a light day on the Blue Agave Tour schedule.

First, we would be guests of Fábrica de Tequilas Finos, followed by a guided tour of Casa Herradura, and lunch on the grounds of the legendary Hacienda San José del Refugio. Finally, we would meet Guillermo Erickson Sauza, a new distiller from one of the first families of tequila. Reaching the lobby, I suddenly remembered that I also had an appointment later tonight.

Todd Bowen had approached me last night before Carlos Phillips' Penca Azúl presentation. We had discussed the possibility of taking a side trip to meet his dear friend, Alfredo Vasquez, producer of Fina Estampa, at his distillery. With the tours running slightly overtime, I was hesitant to make that trip. Todd agreed, and instead invited Alfredo to meet us at the Mision Tequillan when we returned. I was anxious to interview Alfredo for a future article on his award winning tequila.

Reifer and his wife, Blanca were already having breakfast in the dining room when I arrived. Cor and Chelle were also enjoying coffee and fruit, along with Roy and Jeannette. Beyond them, the rest of the dining room was a disaster!

Ashtrays still filled with cigar butts were stacked on several tables. Piles of broken glassware dotted the floor. Even the gals in the kitchen making breakfast looked tired. I was almost embarrassed to admit that I had been at the scene of the crime. I ordered coffee and quietly watched Chelle as she tried to solve the mystery of eating a fresh mango.

In the parking lot, Tim Osborn (Iron Chef) and Tom O'Halloran (TPO) walked back from an early morning stroll. It amazed me how those two could consume mass quantities of fine tequila until the wee hours, and still be up in the morning before the rest of us.

It felt good to relax with a cup of coffee. The first two days had been rushed and exhausting. Our tight schedule left little time for side tours and sightseeing. Reifer, our tour director, was making sure that we followed the itinerary as closely as possible. If he hadn't been so adamant about being on time, we wouldn't have experienced all that we had already. For that, I was grateful.

Admittedly, the after hours activities were taking their toll on me. I convinced myself that I could rest when I returned to the States. This was a once-in-a-lifetime tour, and there was no time to be tired, now.

One more quick cup of coffee, and we boarded the bus to Fábrica de Tequilas Finos.



After a short ride to what seemed like the end of town, we disembarked on a gravel road next to some railroad tracks. What looked like a long government building stood on the opposite side. The freshly painted front of the building glistened in the sunshine. Our driver informed me in Spanish that this used to be the old railway station for the city.

In sepia-tinted imagery, my tired mind's eye could almost see the bustling trains filled with commuters and visitors arriving hour after hour at the station. Perhaps a charro (cowboy) or two on black stallions meeting an important dignitary like Don Camilo. Others waited for friends and family from the nearby towns of Tonalá, Tenoch (modern-day Mexico City), and Zapopán. Taking a photo of a lone railroad crossing sign, I chuckled.

Tequilas Finos, one of the most prolific distilleries in Tequila, produces many US favorites. It is also known for its beautiful and unusual bottles like Tonalá, Tenoch, Stallion, and Don Camilo. Using them in my daydream was a sure sign that I needed another cup of coffee.

A huge eighteen-wheeler had arrived at the same time, and expertly backed through the open front gates. Carefully, the driver continued in reverse to the loading dock. The delivery was from a local glass company. Maybe this is a load of those wonderful bottles, I thought.

I was so intrigued with what the truck was unloading that I barely noticed our host, Ingeniero Arturo Fuentes Cortés, the Plant/Operations Manager, introduce himself. Dark haired, tall and reserved, Arturo took us through the facility.

The first thing we noticed were the fifty and hundred kilo bags of sugar stacked on part of the warehouse floors. Piles of them waited to be carried and stacked by forklifts. This was definitely a hardhat area.

Next was the bottling station where Juan Mesa tried his hand at labeling bottles of Zapopán. He really seemed to enjoy himself at Tequilas Finos. He even had his picture taken sitting atop stacked boxes of Zapopán holding bottles in each hand. He was in his own tequila heaven.

On the way to the next station, Jerret Wichman (Wichie), his wife, Laura, and myself saw boxes of mini bottles of Zapopán and Tonalá. Laura was delighted with the cute blue ceramic bottles of Tonalá. I suggested that a pair of them would make fine salt and pepper shakers once they were consumed.

Halfway through the sparkling distillation tanks, it was apparent that Arturo was not used to public speaking. It was then that he introduced us to Pedro García, biologist, who would show us the heart of the operation—the lab.



Dressed in a white lab coat, Pedro, a curly-haired young man in his late twenties or early thirties, and with a better command of English than Arturo, was amazed at the Blue Agave Tour. He confessed that in his experience, only the Chinese and Asians were as fanatical as we were about tequila.

He pointed out that the bags of sugar were for the mass production of their best selling tequila Zapopán—a mixto. Both he and Arturo admitted that it was what paid the bills.

Pedro commented that young Mexicans cared little about how tequila was made. It also concerned him that most young Mexicans preferred to drink mixtos instead of 100% agave tequilas because they were more affordable.

We followed Pedro up a flight of stairs and piled into the compact lab. He explained the purposes of the computers, samples and test tubes that were neatly arranged on the counter tops. The explanations were totally foreign to me. Fortunately, Ian and a few others, including Tim Carter's strawberry blond companion, Mary Lou Doyle, who had been silent up until then, grilled Pedro for answers.

The rest of us admired the bottles of Tequilas Finos' all-star line-up proudly displayed on a shelf in the lab. It included their new addition, the elegant El Diamante del Cielo. A closer look revealed Arturo’s signature on the paper seal surrounding the capped cork.

Curiously, the shelves under the counters were filled with other tequila bottles like Milagro, Hornitos, Don Julio, El Tesoro, and Herradura 92. Presumably, the lab also tested the competition's flavor profiles.

The strangest bottle was one labeled “worms agave,” and filled to the brim with them! It made for a very interesting conversation piece. (The larvae would worm its way again into our Herradura visit later on.)

Filing out of the lab and down the stairs, I noticed stacked boxes labeled Sol Dios. This tequila comes in a triangular blue bottle. It strongly resembles the Lapis bottle that Chelle, Cor, and I had sampled at Tequileña yesterday, capped with a clown's red nose. These boxes had been shipped from China! I concluded that Sol Dios was not held in the same regard as its stablemates to merit a handcrafted bottle.

Along to our final stop, we passed the loading dock. My curiosity got the best of me and I peeked into the rear of the tractor-trailer. Inside were dozens of pallets of unlabeled glass bottles. There must have been thousands of them in just that delivery.

Arturo and Pedro weren’t kidding--Zapopán does pays the bills!




After a quick look into Tequilas Finos’ sweet smelling barrel warehouse, we were led through the offices of the adobe-colored building. Up a flight of stairs was a large meeting room that was opened to and overlooked the same barrel cellar. To the rear was a long conference table. On a shorter table near the entrance were dozens of high stem wine glasses and several unlabeled square bottles of a dark, reddish añejo. There were also bottles of a slightly lighter reposado.

We settled into seats around the conference table, sofas, and lounge chairs in the office. Most of us stood next to the railing that overlooked the cellar to get a whiff of the sweet wood fragrance wafting in.

Without much ceremony, Reifer announced on Arturo's behalf that we were being served one of their better añejos. Like an interpreter, he also mentioned that we were the first group ever to tour Tequilas Finos' facilities. There was a smattering of applause as we helped ourselves to glasses of tequila. Lou Barton took advantage of the photo opportunity, and recorded this historic moment with his elephant gun of a digital camera.

Trying to guess which of their finer tequilas we were sampling, I couldn't help wondering if we had already overstayed our welcome. That awkward feeling of kissing your sister that I sensed at Mundo Cuervo resurfaced. I could almost hear Sony saying, “I know you are...experts!" the insincerity dripping from her voice.

Sniffing and sipping my glass of añejo, I was immediately disappointed. This certainly wasn't the smooth and sweet Tonalá or Don Camilo. The afterburn was almost as harsh as one of Ron Cooper's Del Maguey Single Village Mezcals, but without the signature smokiness and character. (Ron would catch up with us tomorrow at El Tesoro's distillery, La Alteña.)

Thinking that I was being a little hasty (it was still too early in the morning for me to sample tequila), I took another sip. The outcome was the same. Not trusting my senses, I sat next to Cor and Chelle by the conference table to get their organoleptic opinions.

Cor concurred that it was a bit too harsh. Just then, Reifer stated that we were sipping Dos Manos reposado and añejo, and that it was Arturo’s favorite.

My tired mind rifled through images to locate the bottle in which I had seen that tequila before. I was having trouble deciding which bottle that was because in Albuquerque, Dos Manos came in several different bottle styles. Suddenly, my jaw dropped.

Rachel Bernk, (Calitequilasippergirl) noticed the shocked look on my face and sat down next to me. She confirmed my suspicions. Dos Manos was another mixto, and she wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole! I had forgotten that Tequilas Finos produced it, too. She had heard that this was a 100 % agave version that we were tasting. That would explain the series of different bottles, I reasoned.

Slowly, I placed my high stem on the table. It accompanied several more that remained partially consumed. Rachel and I couldn't get past that Tequilas Finos was serving the group a lesser quality tequila (and possibly a mixto).

I began to feel insulted, but not for me. I was just a rookie tequila taster with a few skills and still learning. For the others with more refined palates, this had to have been a slight let down after two marvelous days of tequila tasting. These folks were also denied a chance to purchase bottles directly from the distillery—another bummer.

Cor, always the voice of reason put it into perspective for me. “They let us in to see the distillery, and,” he added, “the tequila was free.”

Reifer pointed to his watch indicating that our visit here was mercifully over. Politely, we applauded Arturo for allowing us to visit, and then scrambled back aboard the bus.



Once on the road, several members lamented not being able to purchase bottles from Tequilas Finos. We were not sure why as all the other distilleries accommodated us. Others discussed the lacking qualities of Dos Manos añejo in whispered tones. Then I noticed something peculiar.

Tim Carter, (who, along with Lou Barton's and Reifer's tequila bottle collections form the bulk of Mark Cannon’s wildly popular website, Pocotequila.com), and Mary Lou were changing their shirts! I watched as they carefully slipped into matching white, short-sleeved button down shirts. On Tim’s burly back was the famous Casa Herradura logo in full color. Herradura was our next stop in the nearby town of Amatitán.

I thought I was nuts with all my tequila themed t-shirts. Just this morning, while waiting to get on the bus, the cigar-chomping Mauricio Pons took one look at my exclusive Fina Estampa t-shirt (courtesy of Todd Bowen), and my Sailing Star Imports cap (Clark Munkel’s company), and cracked, “Looks like someone has connections!”

From that shirt, I remembered that Tim had attended one of our previous Tequila Experiences™ with Mark Cannon. When I asked him about it, he told me that he had picked it up on his last visit to Herradura. The square-jawed, happy-go-lucky Carter quizzed me on what type of camera I was using.

“A Cannon ELF,” I said, sheepishly. “I think I’m going to have to replace the battery and get more film.” Cor, Ian, and Tim told me that there were two camera shops in Tequila, and when we returned, they would guide me to their locations.

“One of them is bound to carry Advantix film,” Tim grinned. Now, I was the world’s worst photojournalist, too!

He then shared a photo from his digital camera's memory. It was of several jimadores working in an agave field in the hot sun. In the background was a full sized billboard of the Jose Cuervo logo. A well-taken picture, filled with irony. He promised to send me a copy once we returned home.



Staring out the window at the rows of agave, I eagerly anticipated seeing one of the oldest, continuously used distilleries—Hacienda San José del Refugio. Ever since I read an in-depth article written by John Bragg (the former owner of the famed Pancho's in Cabo San Lucas) on the tumultuous history behind the Hacienda del Cristeros (its name during Mexico's Cristeros Rebellion of the late 1920's), I had wanted to see it.

The pictures that accompanied the article reminded me of the Spanish missions that I had visited growing up in Southern California. Rows of arches, columns, and rays of sunshine filtering through quiet gardens seemed like a perfect place to enjoy a snifter of Herradura blanco suave.

“If you like history,” boasted Tim, “wait till you see where we're going afterwards.” He was referring to Los Abuelos the new tequila from fifth generation Sauza, Guillermo Erickson. It would be our final stop for the day on our In Search of the Blue Agave Tour.

“Guillermo's distillery—La Fortaleza—was his grandfather's home. It hadn't been used for years until he decided to start producing tequila again. He still crushes agave with a tahona, and,” Tim added, “Mark used it as part of the logo for Guillermo's labels.” It became clear to me who had set up the final leg of today's events.

Mark Cannon is not only a tequila aficionado of the highest order, but an extremely talented graphics artist. When I ran across Pocotequila.com in my research for our first Tequila Experience™, I took a look at his main site for his artwork, Big Bang Graphics. I was stunned!

His use of bold colors, sharp lines, and attention to detail make his pictures jump off the screen. His style also carries something vaguely familiar. A cross between classic art deco, and colorful California orange crate art, instantly made him a personal favorite. There is also something more—something intangible—that makes his compositions extra special.

It was a treat to meet him 2 years later. I was floored that he took the time to visit our show, and to bring Tim along with him, too. I asked Mark who sat behind Tim, how he had gotten involved with Los Abuelos and Guillermo Erickson Sauza.

He confessed that Guillermo contacted him about three years ago from his Pocotequila website. Since then, he had been working closely with Guillermo and Los Abuelos. This tour stop would be the official unveiling of Los Abuelos at Destilería La Fortaleza.

Realizing that I would be reporting on this event, Mark wanted to make sure that the focus would be on Los Abuelos, and not just his artwork.

“Guillermo really cares about the process,” Mark related. “It's the total package. From the label, to the bottle, to the tequila inside.”

I knew nothing about Los Abuelos, or Guillermo Erickson Sauza, but Mark's endorsement heightened my anticipation.

“What did he like about your artwork?” I asked.

Mark adjusted his golf cap, thought a moment, and then smiled. “He said it looked like money.”

That was the intangible!



Any romantic ideas that I had of Hacienda San José del Refugio were washed away as we approached the legendary home of Herradura.

“It's the mixto truck,” cheered Iron Chef, snapping a digital photo. Several in the group raised their cameras, too. Due to my rapidly fading battery, I opted to wait.

Ahead of our luxury bus was a livestock truck. Its cargo was stacked well above the wooden fencing that surrounded the bed. It was heavily weighed down with one hundred kilo bags of azúcar—sugar!

In the middle of the massive adobe fence that guarded the hacienda were formidable solid wooden gates. Slowly they were opened to reveal a small army of dusty armed men. One of them dressed in black carried a walkie-talkie, and spoke into it in Spanish. Once the doors opened wide, they waved both the truck and our bus inside. Apparently, they were expecting us.

The largest man of the group stared at us ominously as our bus drove past him. He carried a semi-automatic machine gun strapped around his ample shoulders. Taking his picture would not be a good idea, I thought. We continued for several feet on the private cobblestone road, and then came to a stop at the entrance to the hacienda.

As we climbed off the bus, two men dressed in tuxedos met us underneath an enormous tree. In several insulated barrels filled with ice, they kindly offered us refreshments. Still trying to douse the heat from the Dos Manos that we had had at Tequilas Finos, many of us couldn't wait to cleanse our palates with some water or juice.

Upon careful inspection, we noticed aluminum cans of fruit flavored drinks that we had never seen before. Called New Mix, and exclusively marketed in Mexico, they came in grapefruit, strawberry, and other flavors, and were 5.0% alcohol by volume. They were laced with El Jimador tequila, also made by Herradura.

Ian reached for one and popped it open. One sip, and he decided to go for the bottled water, instead. Many of us did the same as the sun was beginning to settle into a warm afternoon.

Taking a look around, Juan Mesa muttered, “This is no hacienda. This is a compound.” The wonder in his eyes and the awe in his voice convinced me that the Romo de la Peña family, the owners of Herradura, were the Kennedy's of the tequila industry.



Our host for the tour was the International Sales Director, Gerente Rubén Aceves Vidrio. Comfortably dressed in light khaki pants, short sleeved shirt and white golf cap, he looked like he had just come off the golf course. Instantly, Rubén informed us of the history and grandeur of the Hacienda del Cristeros.

He mentioned the celebrities that had visited the distillery in the past, including members of restaurant chains in the US, officials of Sazerac (the company that imports Herradura), Latin American singing sensations Luis Miguel, Alejandro and Vicente Fernandez, and Julio Bermejo of Tommy's in San Francisco. (Julio's name would come up unexpectedly again tomorrow during our tour at El Tesoro.)

Rubén exuded pride in every word he spoke. The certainty in his voice gave me a sense of reverence for the old hacienda and the old ways. As usual, I strayed from the group, and peeked inside the chapel adjacent to the front doors of the main house.

Part of the requirement to be considered a hacienda (among others), the chapel was quiet, but as elaborate as any Catholic church I had visited in Southern California or in New Mexico. Feeling like I did at La Cofradía on our first day, I whispered to myself as I snapped a picture of the historic altar. It was said to be the final resting place of the third generation matriarch, Gabriella de la Peña Rosales.

We were led inside the main house where Herradura's history unfolded before us. The rooms were furnished with beds, chairs and benches made of dark, solid hardwood. There was no telling how old they were.

Clark Munkel motioned to me to follow him inside one of the bedrooms. He showed me some of the archaeological finds displayed inside a cabinet. It was filled with ancient pottery shards, tools, and artifacts that had been discovered on the grounds decades ago. In each room and in the hallways hung old paintings depicting everyday life on the hacienda.

Like kids let loose in a rich uncle's house, Clark, Todd, myself and few others wandered from room to room, getting a feel for what it was like to live in a hacienda. There was no need for my tired imagination to conjure up sepia-tinted daydreams. The scenes played out for us at every turn and in every room.

We wandered into the huge, beige colored kitchen and pantry. The rest of the group had just left, and there were no cooks or servers anywhere. Here, we were exposed to two different worlds. The old world of solid hardwood cabinets and cupboards, and the new world of gas stoves, ovens, and canned goods from stewed tomatoes to bottled ketchup.

In the corner of the combination pantry and kitchen, underneath a built-in wine rack and atop a wooden countertop, was a small, inviting array of Herradura bottles forming a makeshift bar.

I nudged Clark to stand in front of the bar while I snapped a picture. Lou Barton joined us, and I showed him what I saw. The largest bottle of the bunch was a half empty crystal decanter of the delicious Herradura Selección Suprema. Lou confessed that Selección Suprema was his favorite of all the Herradura tequilas, and that he had once bought a case on a fantastic deal.

I had never tasted it before, and it took every ounce of discipline I had not to sneak a glass. I imagined that the servers and cooks probably sipped a caballito or two while cooking. To avoid any more temptation, we followed the rest of the crew out the back door and onto the cobblestone streets.



The bulk of the group was far ahead of us. Trudging along, we strode past the vast barrel warehouses. Lou snapped pictures of the signs outside each of the warehouses that explained the aging process of Herradura's añejo and El Jimador añejo. I stopped to ask one of the foremen outside the first warehouse what brand they were aging.

“El Jimador,” he said, proudly.

He then told me that they start with virgin white oak whiskey barrels, and reuse them for approximately 7-8 years. When I asked if they used any additives in the El Jimador añejo, he assured me that the color of the añejo was strictly from the barrels.

Catching up to the group at the nursery, we discover that Herradura is experimenting with cloning stronger agave plants like Sauza is reportedly doing. Herradura, however, has government support. In the distance, there is a massive aerial steel pipeline network designed to transport the precious juice to the fermentation tanks elsewhere on the property.

Rubén vehemently explained how environmentally conscious Herradura was. It was important that they didn't upset the surrounding environment so as not to negatively impact the tequila. Herradura uses no additives in their fermentation tanks—no extra yeast to help things along—ever. This is how they acquired and retain the “natural” designation on their label.

Beyond the nursery, on a grassy area in front of the rows of baking ovens, were small agave piñas with some of their pencas already cut. Standing nearby was a young jimador. He was dressed in the ritual garb of the jimador pictured on the Herradura logo, complete with coa, sombrero and red bandanna. Rolling my eyes, I stood alongside a young man I hadn't noticed before. He wore a blue denim Herradura long sleeved shirt.

While the others again took their whacks at the piñas with the coa, I spoke to José Angel, of the Events Department at Herradura. He had only been on the job for three months, and worked closely with tour groups. His story wasn't much different from young people in the States.

José had worked in the bottling department of Herradura three years before, and then went on to college in Guadalajara to study English. Feeling homesick, he decided to return to the area and to his old job at Herradura. Luckily, a position opened up in the Events Department that required someone who spoke English.

He explained that Herradura was getting ready to plant several thousand hijuelos (agave pups) on most of their ten million hectares of land. The job was to be done before the start of the rainy season somewhere at the end of May, and parts of June and July. This way, said José, the plants would get a stronger root system and guarantee a healthier growing cycle.

Just then, the two tuxedoed men who had earlier met us at the entrance reappeared bearing buckets of refreshments. While some of the group grabbed more bottled water, and others continued to slice at sacrificial piñas, Chelle approached me and borrowed my notebook. She wrote three facts about Herradura that she found fascinating.

Seventeen percent of company sales were international, with seventy percent of that in the US. Their products can be found in forty countries, and they were currently looking into producing some private label tequila.

TPO took the opportunity to catch up to Rubén and to thank him for putting together this behind-the-scenes look at Casa Herradura. Rubén assured Tom that it was his pleasure. As they walked out of earshot, I heard Rubén ask him, “What did Cuervo do for you...?”

It was later revealed that TPO's friendship with Matthew Silverman, the Corporate Executive Chef of the famed Agave restaurant and tequila bar in Las Vegas where he lives, had been partly responsible for this leg of the tour.

When Matthew heard that Tom was going on The Blue Agave Tour, he contacted friends at Herradura. And when Mundo Cuervo tried to apply the normal fee for their tour, Harry cleverly leveraged Herradura's outstanding offer of hospitality against them. The red carpets at both facilities were gratefully received.



I walked back with Chelle to the massacred agave. Juan Mesa knelt in front of a split piña as if giving it the last rites.

“Look,” he pointed. There, squirming in the center of the core was a large agave caterpillar! Motioning to the jimador who stood nearby, Juan said, “He told me that there's one in every plant.”

“Really?” I asked the young jimador in Spanish.

He nodded and said, “For some reason, two caterpillars cannot exist inside the same plant.”

“Do they remove them from the piñas?” asked Chelle.

I translated, and the jimador replied, “Some of the workers pop them into their mouths like a snack. They're very sweet.”

With the sharp point of a sliced penca, Juan poked the writhing caterpillar on its side. Then, he licked the tip of the penca.

“It does taste sweet,” he agreed. “Try some.”

“No thanks,” I said, snapping a photo of the caterpillar. I remembered an earlier post to the forum by Lirubis who had threatened to serve me deep fried worm tacos called chinicuiles.

“But are they removed before they bake the agave?” asked Chelle.

I translated Chelle's question to the jimador. He just shrugged his shoulders and smiled.



We quickly inspected the rows of old brick ovens with a conveyor belt system. They were being manually loaded and unloaded by hornaleros (oven workers). The piñas were then shredded and rinsed two to three times.

Once more over the cobblestone streets, we were led to another building that looked much older than the rest. This was the original distillery, now a museum that was at least one hundred years old.

Inside the dark, dank brick building, we heard trickling spring water. In the middle of this fábrica antigua (ancient factory), as if on stage, were two enormous copper stills. Behind them on the walls, repainted in red letters inside a green semicircle, were the words “En Díos Confíamos” (“In God We Trust”).

“There's no telling how many people lost their lives working in here,” said Juan Mesa, hauntingly. “Industrial accidents were inevitable back then.”

A chill ran up my spine as I photographed the sign. Throughout the entire visit, I felt the “walls talking.” It was as if Rubén wasn't leading the tour, but the hacienda itself was.

We entered into an adjacent room that was converted into a small viewing theater and bar. There, our tuxedoed friends met us with snifters of Herradura products and antojitos (finger foods). Sipping and munching, we sat on several rows of benches.

A well produced and dramatically acted documentary of the history of the Romo de la Peña family and Herradura played out on the screen before us. It was narrated in Spanish by a whiskered old charro, along with English subtitles.

I largely ignored the movie and completed my notes. Occasionally, I raised my head to see what was going on. Ahead of me sat Iron Chef by himself. Enthralled in the Herradura story, I heard him sniffling. Allergies, I thought.



After the video, we were taken outside into the open gardens of the hacienda. Several round tables were elegantly arranged with white tablecloths. Unlike the manicured Mundo Cuervo, San José del Refugio was more naturally landscaped with huge shade trees and blooming vines of every kind.

Lunch was again buffet style and included white fish, salads, dessert and coffee, and plenty of Herradura tequilas along with other beverages. The feeling was much more relaxed, a respite from this whirlwind tour. It gave many of us a chance to get to know each other better.

Finally, Rubén announced that he had certificates to give to us in recognition of the historic In Search of The Blue Agave Tour visiting Casa Herradura. Ever mindful of our itinerary, Harry would hold onto these and hand them out to us on our last night back at our hotel in Guadalajara.

The fleeting moments of being on vacation and treated like VIPs at a fancy resort came to an end. I walked off the approaching tequila buzz by browsing in the souvenir shop before boarding our bus.

[Writer’s Note: Shortly after our return, it was announced that the Romo de la Peña family had placed Herradura on the market. At this writing, the pending sale to the new owners, American distributors Brown-Forman, is expected to be completed by the end of 2006.]



As we pulled away from Hacienda San José del Refugio, a slight sadness overcame me. Juan Mesa's words about industrial accidents echoed in my mind. The old hacienda had seen many days of turmoil in its historic past. A happy visit from a bunch of tequila nuts seemed to brighten it up. Maybe the walls did talk, and they were just as sad to see us leave.

Wrapping up my notes, I checked the battery indicator on my camera. It was flashing dangerously close to the end of its life. I noticed that with some of the latest photo attempts the flash wouldn't operate. I'd definitely have to make a run for the camera shop as soon as we arrived into Tequila.

Looking up, I watched as Tim and Mary Lou changed their shirts again. This time, they slipped into brand new shirts with the official Los Abuelos logo, a tahona wheel inside a circle. Many on the bus asked where they had acquired them. Before Tim could answer, Ian and Lou stood at the front of the bus as if waiting to get off. Slowly, our driver stopped off to the side of the road and parked beside another field of blue agave.

Harry fumed momentarily by the unannounced interruption in the itinerary. Ian quickly turned to us and explained that there was a lone tree within that field that he had admired on the way to San José del Refugio. He simply had to take its picture.

Sensing that a few of us still weren't ready to leave behind the calming effect of Casa Herradura's gardens, I stood up and said, “Photo op!” and followed them outside. Several others with digital cameras piled off the bus, as well.

The field of blue agave shimmered in the midday sun. In the middle of it stood the mangled remains of what looked like an old mango tree that had long since lost its leaves. Perhaps at one time, it shaded many jimadores and was a scenic spot to take a break from the hard work of harvesting piñas. Beyond the tree rose the ancient volcano that had fertilized the valley millions of years ago. Part of its cone seemed to have been blown apart by its last eruption, and capped off by a huge volcanic plug.

Hoping my camera still worked, I snapped a panoramic photo. Ian and Lou took some from several angles. Others aimed their cameras looking for the one clear shot. After a few minutes, Ian herded us back onto the bus before Harry threatened to leave without us.

Back in my seat tired, thirsty and bit buzzed, the spell had been broken. The mystic pull of Casa Herradura had released us. It was now safe to travel to our next destination, Destilería La Fortaleza.



We watched in awe as our bus driver traveled up a narrow cobblestone road—in reverse! He came to a halt in front of a whitewashed brick archway at the bottom of a hill.

Standing ready to greet us was Guillermo Erickson Sauza. Alongside him, in a small white pickup truck, was Cristina Hernández de Guadarrama. Cristina had been Guillermo’s grandfather's Executive Assistant. She is also the contact person for the new tequila Los Abuelos.

Feeling like a kid who had been blindfolded and spun around three times before taking swings at a birthday piñata, I gathered my dying camera and notebook. I was one of the last ones off the bus and it seemed as if we had traveled through a time warp to another time and place.

The grounds of Destilería La Fortaleza were naturally landscaped with plants and trees that were not common to the area. If it were not for the surrounding agave plants throughout the estate, one would think we had arrived at a small northern Italian village.

Like a scene from the movie The Godfather, several people stood in line to greet Señor Sauza. First, Mark Cannon reached over and hugged his friend, followed by Tim Carter and Ian Chadwick. To my surprise, Guillermo spoke excellent English. I discovered later that “El Gringo Tequilero” as Tim Carter called him, had been born and raised in Chicago.

Casually dressed in a muted colored flowered shirt and khaki trousers, Erickson Sauza exuded charisma to go along with his gravelly voice. In his early fifties, his white hair, mustache and movie star good looks helped him command the respect owed to a fifth generation Sauza. After the introductions to the rest of the group, Guillermo graciously offered us freshly squeezed juice from the vast variety of fruit trees on the estate.

He mentioned that La Villa Sauza was named La Casa del Cielo by his grandmother 30 years ago. When Guillermo's grandfather, Don Javier Sauza sold the business to Pedro Domecq, this property was to have been his grandparent’s retirement home. One of the three producing distilleries, it was shut down in 1968 and eventually designated a museum similar to the one at Herradura.

Eager to start the tour on foot, Guillermo offered the small pickup truck to those who didn’t want to brave the steep walk uphill to La Casa del Cielo. Seizing the opportunity for some historical scoop from Cristina, and the possibility of meeting Guillermo's mother, Silvia, who still lived on the estate, Cor and Chelle armed their I-Pods and jumped into the truck.



Strolling leisurely, Guillermo described just about each and every one of the 250 flowering trees and plants that had been planted by his grandfather. He showed the man made island, La Isla del Amistad, in the middle of a large pond that had once been a featured stop on the famous Tequila Express years before.

The botanical names of trees and shrubs were lost on me, but not their beauty. Trying to save my camera's battery, I couldn't help but to take pictures of the overgrown flowers and blossoms. At every turn on the cobblestone road, new vines grew abundantly with flowers of every color.

The more Guillermo spoke of the estate, the more apparent it was that he truly loved this home. He revealed the other side of himself, the one that loved what he was doing—making tequila the old fashioned way just like his grandfathers—and where he was doing it. This sense of responsibility to his ancestors meant that he wouldn't skimp on any of the details.

The tiny and mighty distillery was more than a museum. The ancient stills, the wooden fermentation tanks, and even the tahona (a much newer piece made of wood than the old stone models we saw at Mundo Cuervo and Herradura), spoke of a way of life that was being replaced by stainless steel and more efficient methods. But the tequila just didn't taste the same to Guillermo.

He knew the economics of producing tequila in this manner weren't cheap. The numbers he mentioned as easily as the names of the flowering shrubs were astonishing. From the cost of building wooden fermentation tanks (itself a dying art), to the percentage of sugars left in the must afterwards, to the price of each Tonalá hand blown bottle, Erickson Sauza had done his homework.

This was not a man who wasted his breath rattling off stats to impress the members of the tour. This introduction to Los Abuelos was more than just a memorized spiel or an emotional testimony to tried and true methods. Guillermo was sharing part of his life, too.

In a later telephone interview, Erickson Sauza told me that from the age of thirteen, he had worked at the family distilleries. From unloading at the docks, to posting shipments to the US, to counting shipments and inventory, he had learned the business from the ground up.

During our conversation, Guillermo quoted his grandfather, whom he remembers with great love, about his fondness for trees. A hobby he has also acquired.

“The best thing you can do is plant a tree, “ his grandfather told him, “because it'll be there forever.”

Exploring the grounds of La Fortaleza that day, one got the feeling that Guillermo had planted something of lasting value.

After a thorough visit of the distillery at the top of the hill, I met up with Cor and Chelle who were astounded. They had spent a lovely time with both Cristina and Silvia at La Casa del Cielo where the view of Tequila was breathtaking. Their I-Pods were filled with historical information on the Sauza family and La Fortaleza.

Chelle formally introduced me to Cristina. Dressed smartly in business casual attire, she was a vital and ageless woman who radiated professionalism in every manner. It was no wonder she had been Don Javier's executive assistant.

Once the group assembled, we were ushered into the caves built into the hillside underneath the home. Cool and dark, it was difficult to see until my eyes adjusted to the candlelit bags lining the floor of the cave. The scene instantly reminded me of the luminarias that line the streets of Old Town Albuquerque on Christmas Eve.

Guillermo stopped at tables that had been prepared with hand blown shot glasses filled with blanco, reposado, and añejo tequila. After a few words, he introduced a guitarist and singer who serenaded us for the rest of the evening. The spotlight was on Los Abuelos.



With the strains of nouveau flamenco in the background, the In Search of the Blue Agave Tour was treated to a memorable cata. Sniffing my shot glass, I noticed the distinct smell of agave that had been seared into my memory on the first day at La Cofradía. Due to the dramatic darkness of the cave, it was impossible to see what kind of legs it had. One taste, and it didn't matter.

The guitarist's voice echoing off of the walls of the cave couldn't drown out the buzz and laughter of the crew. The excitement was electric. Those of us who didn't take a seat at the tables wandered over to ask the others their opinions on Los Abuelos.

I spoke to Ian, and I agreed with his assessment even though his taste buds were clouded due to a slight cold. I checked with Harry, a confirmed añejo drinker, who was convinced and chagrined. Then, I visited with Roy and Jeannette. It was Jeannette's reaction that confirmed my initial response.

Jeannette admitted that she shied away from blancos because they were too harsh. Smooth añejos were her favorite for that reason. Los Abuelos was the smoothest, most flavorful blanco she had ever tasted. It was absolutely fantastic!

An indefinable flavor that bloomed with every swallow of Los Abuelos captivated us. It was not vegetal—perhaps mineral?--that complimented and enhanced the agave taste of the blanco. Later that evening, it would take another tequilero to help me unravel the mystery of Los Abuelos' flavor profile. I just couldn't get enough of it. Neither could the rest of us.

Over the guitarist's aria, many of us nodded and smiled in total agreement. Los Abuelos is—and would be—a big hit in the States. The possibility of this tequila unseating those with more hype and little substance was thrilling. Here was a tequila with little or no publicity that over delivered. Mark Cannon and Tim Carter had been right. Guillermo Erickson Sauza had hit a home run.

Between congratulatory handshakes to Guillermo, I ran into Cristina and Chelle. Cristina was fulfilled for another reason. She revealed that Don Javier's wish was to have eventually converted the caves into a cabaret (nightclub) where people could come and listen to musicians and drink great tequila.

Although Guillermo's plans were to turn the caves into his permanent barrel cellar, Cristina smiled knowingly. Don Javier would have been happy to see people enjoying themselves—and enjoying fine tequila at La Fortaleza.



Following the singing guitarist outside, the group sang the praises of Los Abuelos blanco all the way to the bus. We were headed for another treat—dinner at the family home, the Sauza Family Museum. I'm not sure how he managed it, but the guitarist continued to sing and play on his feet while the bus was in motion.

Guillermo sat a few rows ahead of me, and during the short trip into town, I quizzed him about Mark's involvement in designing the label for Los Abuelos.

Erickson Sauza, looking like a man who had just won the approval of the tequila drinking public, related that Mark had been the fifth graphic artist he had worked with. It was his collection of artwork on his Pocotequila website that impressed him. Guillermo also mentioned that although Agustín Cedeño, his friend, artist and architect, had helped in designing the bottle, it was his own sketch of a robust, masculine bottle that they had finally settled on.

Guillermo acted as tour guide easily pointing out what other distilleries were on the way into town, who just updated their machinery, and generally proving what a small town Tequila really was. There was nothing going on that escaped him.

Arriving at the Sauza Family Museum, a short distance from where TPO and I had been taking pictures the day before, there was a surprise in the doorway. Inside Don Cenobio's home was a blown up version of the Los Abuelos label. Mark Cannon's artwork was gloriously displayed as a permanent part of the museum and the Sauza heritage. I'm sure it was a proud moment for him.

The home's walls were covered with paintings, vintage photos, promotional labels and banners depicting Las Tres Generaciónes—Don Cenobio, Don Eladio, and Don Francisco Javier. Other rooms had glass encased movie star headshots from both American and Mexican cinema. Each photo was autographed in English or Spanish with greetings and good wishes to the Sauza family.

More treasures lined the walls of other rooms including historical letters signed by Mexican presidents Benito Juarez and Porfirio Diaz. Everything imaginable that was ever printed, photographed, or painted with the Sauza name was inside the museum. While overwhelmed with the memorabilia, a thought occurred to me.

After the family sold to Domecq, they were never legally able to use the Sauza name. Imagine not being able to use your last name ever again—for anything. That must have been the toughest decision Don Javier ever made.

But the museum was a celebration of the Sauzas, and that we did. The group gathered in the courtyard of the old home where several tables were arranged for a romantic sunset dinner. Our guitarist was already seated and singing Spanish classics. The acoustics of the courtyard enhanced his voice perfectly.

I sat at Ian's table, and the conversation and the tequila flowed between morsels of food. Los Abuelos' special distinct taste still haunted me. We were joined by two of our youngest members of the forum, Sarita Gaytan, a dark haired gal from Southern California, and Sarah Bowen, a willowy brunette from Wisconsin. Both were studying different aspects of the tequila industry in Guadalajara, and had jumped at the chance to come on the tour.

From under the archway shadows, Chelle appeared with a guest. It was Guillermo's mother, Silvia Sauza Gutiérrez. She suggested that I talk with her briefly about her thoughts on where the tequila industry was headed.

Small in stature, and almost geisha-like, Silvia spoke perfect English. She told me how her father, Don Javier, a tireless promoter of tequila, would often help other tequileros when times were tough. This feeling of community among tequila producers was missing now that huge conglomerates were swallowing up family-owned distilleries.

“When Domecq bought the business,” she admitted, “they ruined it.” The bitterness in her voice highlighted the slight scowl on her face.

What did she think would be needed for the survival of small artesanál producers like Los Abuelos? A return to Don Javier's ways. Small producers would have to stick together, but she was doubtful. Someone would have to lead them.

“Guillermo?” I asked.

“That's up to him,” she sighed.

[Author’s Note: At this writing, due to legal issues, tequila Los Abuelos will be undergoing an exciting name change in the US in the next few months. Watch your store shelves and this site for more info coming soon.]



I had no sooner sat down to arrange my notes after my brief discussion with Silvia, when Todd Bowen tapped me on the shoulder.

“Alfredo's on his way,” he reminded me. I looked at my watch. I had no idea it was already that late.

Alfredo Vasquez of Fina Estampa was driving in to meet me at the Mision Tequillan. I still needed to find a battery for my camera and more film.

I said my goodbyes and thank yous to Guillermo and quickly found Cor to ask for directions to the nearest camera shop. Thankfully, he volunteered to take me.

Cutting across the Sauza courtyard, we were soon outside on the streets. The zócalo in front of the El Templo de La Purísima church was buzzing with activity. Parents played with their children on plastic community bikes and dump trucks. Young couples walked hand-in-hand while older couples sat on the benches people watching.

Cor and I kept a fast clip, but in the warm sunset, things slowed down again for me like they had yesterday. I wanted to just enjoy the scene in front of the church in slow motion. If my camera's battery had been functioning, I would have fired more snapshots of the families of Tequila.

At the photo shop (where it not only had a battery for my camera, but Advantix film, too), I realized that the people here were no different from the rest of us. We work hard all week, and look forward to Fridays and weekends to be with our loved ones.

Locked and loaded, Cor and I hustled back to the hotel where I had a few extra minutes before my meeting with Alfredo. I hurriedly packed my suitcase since we would be checking out early tomorrow morning on Reifer's last leg of our tour. It was to be a grueling three hour bus ride to San Nicolás home of Espolón and Corazón de Agave, followed by a visit to La Alteña, the birthplace of El Tesoro de Don Felipe.

I had just finished splashing water on my face when Todd knocked on my door. Alfredo was in the lobby waiting for me.



During the course of my insightful interview with Alfredo Vasquez, the producer of the award winning Fina Estampa, and Todd Bowen who imports Alfredo's artesanal tequila [You can read more about this interview in an upcoming blog/article right here.], Todd poured a sample of Los Abuelos for his friend.

After one sip, Alfredo enlightened me. “La piedra,” he said knowingly in Spanish.

The tahona—the grinding stone used by Los Abuelos—is what gave this tequila its distinct taste. Alfredo confessed that he was not such a fan of the intense flavor of “The Rock.” He preferred a more subtle taste to his tequila, but gave Los Abuelos high marks.



Almost two hours later, Alfredo and I shook hands goodbye. I promised to visit his distillery on my next visit--Todd would see to it.

I conducted the entire interview in Spanish since Alfredo spoke no English. I also took no notes. I had soaked up every word. I was a sponge that had reached its absorbent capacity. If someone were to have wrung me out, they would have been drenched with tequila and information!

Oddly, I was no longer tired. Instead, I felt as if I had just had three shots of espresso. I would've welcomed this feeling at the beginning of the day. Needing to wind down, Todd offered to take me the oldest bar in Tequila, La Capilla, where most of the crew was still celebrating the day’s events.

A short walk on the darkened streets of Tequila, around the corner from the hotel, was the small, fluorescently lit tavern. Todd and I walked in just in time to see Lou Barton buy a vintage mirror from off of the wall of the cantina.

It was a promotional Sauza mirror that had hung there for years. Like an excited little boy, Lou couldn't wait to get it home to add to his vast collection of tequila bottles and memorabilia. His next challenge was packing it in his suitcase so that it would arrive in one piece.

Cor and Chelle greeted us asking how the interview had gone. On the other side of the cramped saloon, Roy and Jeannette were deep in a Spanish conversation with a couple of local young men. The Big Boys, Iron Chef and TPO, were bellying up to the bar, trading quips with Rachel and her husband, Drew. On one end of the ancient bar sat Stan Spigelblatt, a lanky Canadian forum member with a superior command of Spanish. Handsome Nick Sitinas balanced out the other end. Todd and I had some catching up to do.

I had some cheap cigars in my back pocket, and I gave one to Cor while I borrowed a light from TPO. Just then, Rachel reappeared at the front door of the cantina with a bottle of Tonalá Suprema Reserva raised triumphantly above her head. Amid cheers from the crew, she poured generous samples into outstretched glasses and plastic cups. Somehow, I wound up with a glassful.

Maybe it was the cigar, the old piece of gum in my mouth, or the fact that I was “tequila-ed out,” I just didn't appreciate the subtleties of this copper colored añejo. It almost tasted like the overly sweet Gran Jubileo that Mauricio Pons had shared with us in the parking lot of the hotel on that first night.

Snapping some photos with my newly revived camera, I noticed the, ah, décor. It was a cross between eclectic and rustic. Everything from taxidermied animal heads to paintings of naked women hung on every inch of the dingy yellow walls. There was even an old photo of revolutionary Che Guevara, and a few soccer trophies on shelves behind the bar. In an adjacent room, a coin-operated jukebox blared 80's music.

Inspired, I walked over and made a few selections. I was still hankering to hear some good, old-fashioned mariachi music. To my dismay, there were very few listed. Between every Eagles favorite and ZZ Top hit, I found a classic by Javier Solis—Sombras.

Making my selections, a young local man weaved over and asked what I had chosen. I wouldn't say that he had had too much to drink, but his Spanish was almost indecipherable. Had there been an earthquake, he would have been the only one able to walk a straight line! He held a highball glass of the infamous Batanga, the bar's signature cocktail. He told me that it was his third drink!

Just then, a tune from the soft rock group Air Supply began to play on the jukebox. The young man smiled, acknowledged that he had picked that song as one of his favorites, and began to sing along.



Inebriated as he was, his English was suddenly perfect! He knew all the words and didn't miss a beat.

The reality of where I was finally hit me. In the middle of nowhere, in the high desert town the size of Tequila, I was not only able to find a camera shop that catered to photographers using both film and digital cameras, but I was listening to 80's music being sung by someone who spoke no English!

Shaking my head, I stepped outside with Chelle and Jeannette for a breath of air. The streets were dark and quiet. The only noise came from inside La Capilla. As I puffed on my cigar, the elongated shadows along the street reminded me of the old neighborhood where my cousins had grown up. South Central Los Angeles at this late hour was never safe, yet, here in Tequila, there was no danger of any harm.

Slowly, we filtered out of La Capilla and headed back to the Mision Tequillan. Cor and I sat in the deserted lobby for a while, winding down. Rachel joined us on the sofa in front of the hotel’s wall of tequila. We whispered to each other about the day's activities. Eventually, I made it to my room, still feeling slightly wired.

After two days of failed attempts, I didn't bother setting my watch alarm. Somehow I knew that I would be up on time to catch our bus back to Guadalajara on our way to Los Altos and Arandas. Plopping on the bed, I hoped that I would have the energy to continue on the last full day of the Blue Agave Tour. I leaned back onto the pillows, closed my eyes and tried to rest.

Diary of A Mad Tequila Aficionado—Part II

Thursday, March 2, 2006

The sound of the blast whistle was familiar. Half awake, I remembered that I had left the TV on last night. It must be a cartoon, I thought. Searching my childhood memories, I found just the episode.

It was the famous Flintstones intro where the blast whistle sounds at the rock quarry. Fred Flintstone slides off the dinosaur’s tail, meets up with his sidekick, Barney Rubble, and heads for home. Then, it sounded again.

The blast whistle was real, and I shook myself fully awake this time. I went to my hotel room window and looked out. Over the rooftops of Tequila, I recognized the bell tower of El Templo de La Purísima church, but no nearby factories. I assumed that one of the distilleries, or a train station, still used a blast whistle. It was a good thing, too.

I checked my watch. It was just after 6AM. I thought I had set the alarm for 5:45AM, but I hadn’t heard it chime. I had just enough time to shower, grab a cup of coffee in the lobby, and climb aboard our bus. This morning we would have our only chance to explore the city of Tequila for a couple of hours before our first full day.

We were to tour the legendary Jose Cuervo distillery, La Rojeña, and have lunch on the grounds of Mundo Cuervo. Afterwards, we would investigate the Tequileña distillery. Later, back at the hotel, my friend, Carlos Jose Phillips of Penca Azúl would pay us a visit for a dinner meeting and tasting.

First, there would be a short side trip to a private agave field run by the owner of the Mision Tequillan, Manuel Landeros. Moving slower than I had thought, ten minutes after seven there was a call on the phone.

“You coming?” asked Reifer. I wondered how many of us he had already called.

“Be right down.” No time for coffee, now. I grabbed my camera and notebook, and like Fred Flintstone, slid three flights of stairs to the bus outside.



Like a scene from the movie The Matrix, where a gun is fired and the camera follows the trajectory of the bullet in slow motion, my mind still reeled from last night’s events. No matter how quickly things moved along, I followed the details with feverish clarity. Maybe it was just from lack of rest, or worse, lack of morning coffee!

Not until I stepped off the bus at Manuel Landeros' agave field did I realize how many of us were missing in action, most notably, CaliTequilaSipperGirl. (Who's the wussy, now? I thought.) What was even more amazing, though, was how many of us present had not been casualties of last night, including TPO and Iron Chef. This was definitely a seasoned group!

With the rising sun in our faces, several jimadores demonstrated the jima. This time, the serious camera buffs, including Ian Chadwick and the wiry Lou Barton—both veteran published photographers--stepped into the agave ring to take their swings at the formidable plant.

These two fellows were in their element. They outsmarted their opponents—the sunshine, the pencas, and Landeros' barbed wire fence that surrounded his property—to find just the right angles to snap their shots. In the end, it was no contest. And Ian was just warming up!

The short demonstration over, we happily hopped back onto the bus to town where I was certain a hot cup of coffee and breakfast awaited me.

“Mind some company?” asked Ian, taking the empty seat next to me.

“Not at all,” I said.

There's a famous scene in the Patrick Swayze cult film Roadhouse where a professional bouncer comes to work at a dive bar in a small Oklahoma town to rid it of riff raff. When he is introduced to his rag tag team of bouncers, one of them looks up at Swayze's character, Dalton, who's reputation preceded him, and sniffs, “I thought you'd be...bigger.” That's how I felt about Ian.

For a guy who loved motorcycles, classic jazz, and small town politics, he was very quiet and shy. But if you looked closely, he also bore a tattoo and a pierced ear.

The picture on his forum biography didn’t do him justice. He seemed much younger in person. A prolific writer, the depth of his informative posts, articles, and blogs are of a man twice his age. To say his interests are eclectic is putting it mildly. His range on subjects, from the scientific to the trivial, is more impressive than Muhammad Ali’s range of jabs!

During our short time together, we discussed everything from the religious experience of tequila tasting, to the importance of spreading the gospel about 100% puro de agave tequilas. In between, I noticed that like me, he wrote his notes in longhand in a small notebook. I felt better knowing that I wasn’t the only one taking notes the old fashioned way—without an I-Pod!

Before I could tell Ian what an honor it was for me to be on this trip with him, and to thank him for his informative website which had inspired me to organize my own tasting events in New Mexico, Harry took over the bus' PA system. He announced that we were being let off at the zócalo, Tequila's town square in front of the church, just steps from the gates of Jose Cuervo's La Rojeña distillery and Mundo Cuervo. We were to meet back here promptly at 11AM.

Ian leaped off the bus, his cameras ready. While Roy, his wife Jeannette, TPO and I discussed where to grab a quick bite to eat, Ian sized up his adversary.

Bounding from the sidewalk onto the cobblestone street, he searched from one end to the other looking for an opening. Zeroing in, he aimed and shot his opponent successfully. Finding another clear shot, he took it. Stopping to jot down a few notes, he continued on his way, picking and choosing his spots like a fleetfooted middleweight.

The Bouncer was back in the agave arena, and he was loving it!



TPO and I lost track of the Rosses. We wandered into a building housing several small co-op restaurants ready to serve hungry residents and American turistas. Everything from breakfast foods to fresh squeezed juices was available.

Finally settling on a place, I promptly requested hot coffee from one of the middle aged women behind the counter. What arrived was hot water and Nescafé. I was never so happy to see instant coffee! Then, I ordered breakfast for us. While we waited for our meal, I filled in some of the time gaps for Tom about last night’s parking lot love-in.

Just then, the bespectacled Juan Mesa appeared at our table. Where I was trying to bring up my energy level with caffeine, Juan had endless energy. He excitedly introduced us to a young couple dressed in black that had been sitting at the counter of the same diner with their backs toward us.

“This is Mauricio and Elena,” said Juan. “They are the ones who will show us Tequileña after we tour Jose Cuervo.”

I barely noticed the round-faced Mauricio as Tom and I shook his hand. My attention was steered toward the dark eyes of the raven-haired stunner, Elena. She wore a clingy black tank top with the word AsomBroso silkscreened across her chest. It was all I could do to utter, “Mucho gusto,” as I shook her hand.

When they returned to their seats, Tom caught me smiling widely like a wolf salivating over a lamb chop!

When our plates arrived, there was a look of confusion and dismay on Tom's face. I had ordered eggs and sausage for Tom, and bacon and eggs for me. What he got was eggs and...hotdogs!

“I should have said chorizo,” I moaned.

I had inadvertently used the wrong Spanish word for sausage when I'd ordered breakfast. Chorizo is a staple in New Mexico, too, but I never eat it. (Do you have any idea what that stuff does to your arteries?)

Tom laughed it off, quoting Maxwell Smart. “Missed it by that much!”



After breakfast, we decided to see the National Museum of Tequila that we were sure was just around the corner. TPO lamented that his most expensive camera had malfunctioned, and that all he had to take pictures with was a small digital camera.

While we searched for the museum, we sharpened our skills by taking photos of innocuous things like...

Hand painted tequila bottles on the sides of liquor store buildings; funny Spanish bumper stickers; official government logos on truck door panels; and banners marking the way to Mundo Cuervo. The locals must've thought that we were out of our minds.

“Remind me again why we're taking these pictures?” asked Tom.

“Cool forum avatars,” I said.

At that moment, several members of our group trudged up the street toward us. Cor, Roy and Jeannette, Tim Osborn (Iron Chef), Nick Sitinas, Jerrett (Wichie) and Laura, and the elusive Paul Hogben (Don Pablo), all had determined looks on their faces.

Led by Nick and Roy, Jeannette said that the two were hell bent on finding a particular brand of tequila. Before running into us, they had been to several liquor stores with no luck.

Roy had even acquired the services of a city official to take him directly to the distillery. Although she didn't know the name of the tequila, the distillery was just a few blocks up the street. TPO and I abandoned our search for the Tequila Museum and joined them.



The city official that Roy had temporarily hired had taken us to the end of the line—the gates of Tequila Arette. I had read fabulous reviews about this tequila on the forum, particularly its Suave and Gran Clase lines. It was unavailable in New Mexico and in several other states. Once we were taken inside, I understood why.

Jeannette spoke perfect Spanish (I didn't trust mine after the chorizo incident!), and she explained to the Production Manager that we were tequila experts [That word would come back to haunt us at Mundo Cuervo!] from the United States touring distilleries. Roy added that many of us were big fans of Arette, and that we would like to see his facilities and to buy some tequila afterwards.

Salomon Rosas Zepeda is a short, stocky well-coiffed man in his late forties. When he heard that we had sought his tequila all over town, he graciously took time out of his day to show us around.

Having just finished a production phase the day before, some of the crew was in the middle of cleaning tanks and hosing down machinery for the next delivery of fresh agave that would be trucked in. Salomon apologized that there was no production to show, but he did his best to describe their process.

Not wanting to sound naïve, I asked where the name Arette came from. Señor Zepeda explained that the tequila is named for the horse of General Jose Maria Morelos, one of Mexico's heroes of their War of Independence from Spain.

Destiladora Azteca is a compact, efficiently run, small batch distillery. Each phase of production is only steps from the next. Two large autoclaves alternately cook the agave, while the previously cooked load is shredded and pressed to extract the precious juice. Nothing is wasted. The discarded agave fibers are shipped to factories to make rugs, ropes, and carpeting.

There are a series of fermentation tanks numbered 1-14, with the first seven made of cement and adobe. The rest are shiny stainless steel. Once fermentation is complete, each tank is drained in numerical order for distillation. The entire process, said Salomon, from the ground to the bottle or barrel, takes only six days!

With time running short, and not wanting to incur Harry's wrath for being late to Mundo Cuervo, the group proceeded to the bottling room. There, Nick, Iron Chef, Don Pablo, and Roy were able to purchase bottles of the fine Suave line. Nick purchased the only bottle of the Gran Clase añejo left in the distillery. The rest of us were treated to free minis of Arette blanco.

Thanking Señor Zepeda for the impromptu tour of his facility, he asked me to follow him into the warm Tequila sunshine. Slightly downhill from the loading dock of Destiladora Azteca was a small brick warehouse that was its cellar. Salomon was determined not to let us leave without showing us some tangible part of the Arette process.

He carefully unlocked the padlock on the building's huge wooden double doors and proudly swung them open. I was hit full in the face with the smell that I immediately called “añejo.” It was the sweet smell of the wooden barrels stacked as high and as close to the roof as possible. The concrete floor of the warehouse had recently been watered down to maintain the humidity, which added to the rich scent of the wood in the air.

Salomon vehemently stressed that Arette's entire process was 100% natural, with no additives. He pointed to the government seal on each used Jack Daniels whiskey barrel filled with the precious aging tequila.

After a few pictures inside the warehouse, we thanked our host and high-tailed it down the street to La Rojeña. The rest of the group would never believe where we'd just been!



Anaheim, California has Disneyland, Tennessee has Dollywood, and Tequila has Mundo Cuervo. Once you enter the grounds of the famous La Rojeña distillery, you're taken into another world—the world of Jose Cuervo.

Neatly manicured lawns and gardens, huge sculptures, colorful murals, and plaques commemorating two hundred and eleven years of tequila making. For the first time, I sensed a deep, inseparable bond between the history of tequila and Mexico's own cultural history.

When I crossed into the elaborate atrium leading to one of the gift shops, I snapped out of it!

What was I thinking? This was the land of Cuervo Especial, responsible for countless hangovers! People everywhere lose their inhibitions to its 51-49 percent formula. Mundo Cuervo was the beginning and the end of the mighty influence it has on millions of tequila lovers and haters. We were deep inside the enemy camp, and it was disguised as a prim and proper señorita.



Those were among the first words from this prim and proper lady, Sonia Espinola de la Llave, Operations Manager for Mundo Cuervo, our guide for the afternoon. I didn't care for the condescending tone she used when she emphasized the word experts, but I wrote it off to her thick accent.

“You can call me Sony,” she smiled, “like the TV.”

We had been rounded up into an outdoor patio and multimedia area for the introductory video on the big screen TV. I noticed that the group was at full strength as waiters served us trays of frozen margaritas. I declined, smelling the Especial in them. While the video played, I wrapped up my notes on Arette, a much more nobler distillery, in my opinion.

Professionally produced, and dramatically narrated in Spanish without subtitles, the video covered every aspect of tequila from the Aztecs, to the Conquistadores, to the history of Jose Cuervo and La Rojeña.

From there, we moved onto the production area where mountains of agave piñas waited to be chopped in half and piled into brick ovens—lots of them!

“Please, form a semi-circle around me,” demanded Sony. Conveniently, there was a wired microphone where she stood.

She sternly asked us “experts” to be silent, then she detailed the different scientific methods Jose Cuervo employed in making their tequila. To her credit, Sony knew everything--stats, facts and figures--which she deftly weaved into her spiel.

While she recited that every hectare of Jose Cuervo grown agave equaled ten thousand plants, Ian, Cor, Juan Mesa, and Mauricio Pons posed for pictures for Lou Barton in front of one of the piles of agave.

There was something vaguely familiar about La Rojeña. I thought perhaps it was the architecture. It had many high archways similar to the California missions I'd visited. Certainly a Spanish influence by way of the conquering Moors, but that wasn't the cause of my déjà vu. As Sony led us to the distillation building, the musty smell of the roasting agaves triggered my memory.



The ghastly yellow paint that colored the Taberna del Tequila at Sky Harbor was the same yellow in which the entire facility was painted. Another grand scheme by the Cuervo Marketing Machine to subliminally influence more tequila drinkers!

I cautiously entered the distillation building like a soldier looking for booby traps and trip wires. Sony grabbed the next wired mic in front of several huge tanks and announced that there was no flash photography allowed.

Ha! I thought. Nobody uses hot flash bulbs any more. There was no way 21st century digital cameras could spark an explosion. I looked around to see what Cuervo was hiding.

They still used copper stills to make their tequila! Seven of them, for the first and second distillations. They were afraid of our photos falling into the wrong hands—their competition! Trade secrets might be worth millions in sales!

We approached an area where workers dressed in masks and hairnets tested the distillations. Here, we were allowed to taste the first distillation, which was 110 proof. Strangely, we did not need masks and hairnets to do this.

After my turn, TPO asked, “What's it taste like?”

“Like 1800,” I said sarcastically. “Just stronger!”

After a quick view of the collection of commemorative boxes for the famed Reserva de La Familia line, our next stop was Cuervo's massive barrel room. Among the barrels stacked to the ceiling with aging tequila, were two long tables covered in white tablecloths.

The In Search of the Blue Agave Tour Group was about to be tested.



Throughout the entire tour, Sony had verbally poked and jabbed and pinched every time she emphasized the word “experts” when referring to us. Although she didn’t do it deliberately, I felt we were being treated like school children on a field trip. Ian would later say that guiding us through a distillery was a bit like herding cats!

There was no telling how many times Sony had had to tour groups of gringos who thought they were tequila experts. We certainly didn't give her any reason to believe otherwise. Until now....

Each place setting on the elegantly prepared tables had a flight of Gran Centenario blanco, reposado, and añejo, with separate cracker and bread dishes to cleanse the palate. A small water bottle was also included. The Gran Centenario was served in Jose Cuervo signature Riedel high stems. The mouths were covered with circular pieces of glass so that the individual bouquets would not mix together.

Sony declared that when her office was told there would be over thirty tequila “experts” visiting, she had asked Ingeniero Francisco Hajnal, Cuervo's own tequila expert or catador, to conduct a tasting at La Rojeña. Ingeniero Hajnal, one of the Founding Fathers of the Mexican Tequila Academy, which grades all tequilas in the five producing states, had flown in from Mexico City to be with us.

Having just been exposed to a similar exercise conducted the night before at La Cofradía by Cor and Chelle, the group knew exactly what to do.

The mood was somber and reverent. Standing on a platform that used a barrel for a podium, the distinguished Ingeniero Hajnal quietly guided us through the cata, and educated us on the finer points of Gran Centenario. For instance...

The fine straw color of the silver was due to a slight aging in barrels of only 28 days before being bottled. (I recalled the waitress' comment to me yesterday at the Taberna del Tequila about Gran Centenario silver being her favorite.) He noted that there were scents of citrus, green apple, grass, and cooked agave. (I really missed Lirubis’ taste buds at this point!)

Ingeniero Hajnal next pointed out the brightness of the reposado, along with the smell of nuts, vanilla and the hint of spices.

Finally, the añejo—aged 18 months, then blended with 10-year-old tequila—produced a copper color and slight vanilla aroma. Perfect for an after dinner cigar!

I watched Sony from the corner of my eye as we performed the cata. A smile crossed her face. It was in that moment that I felt she realized she was not among simple turistas, but among peers. Maybe not at the level she was, and certainly not at the summit with Ingeniero Hajnal, but somewhere in between. Surely over and above the average gringos she may have met in the past.

After our intensive study of Gran Centenario, and having passed the test, Sony beckoned for us to follow her again.



Leading us into a large hallway, Sony began a discourse on an enormously colorful mural covering one wall. My attention was on the opposite wall, though. There was a locked and gated opening that I was dying go through. My view was slightly obstructed by the wrought iron gates, but I could make out the iron letters on a wooden sign. It read...



This was home to Cuervo's best selling añejo, and one of the more positive reasons to celebrate its two hundred and eleven years of tequila craftsmanship. Sony would later proudly declare that Reserva de La Familia was the number one tequila around the world.

“No one is allowed down there,” whispered Juan Mesa, standing behind me. “I've been on this tour before, and they never let the tourists in there.”

My excitement waned, but instead of whining, I snapped a photo. I could claim that I stood just a few feet from the cellar of some of the finest tequila in the world. Just then, Sony approached the gates and unlocked the padlock.

Before we could rush through, she urged us to walk behind her slowly as she led us down the carved out stairs of the cave. With each step, the climate became noticeably cooler. Some of us stopped to take pictures of a few display barrels, and Sony again admonished that no flash photography would be allowed inside.

Would we really get to taste Reserva de La Familia? We felt like treasure hunters finally within reach of a sacred idol. Like pirates visiting a secret stash. Like tomb raiders waking the spirits of the dead. It was all very surreal. Then, it occurred to me that Disneyland had a similar adventure—Raiders of the Lost Ark!

I began to question the authenticity of the cave itself. Places like this just don't exist outside of amusement parks, I reasoned. Then again, I had been inside the pyramid at Chichen-Itza, and climbed to its top. Places like these did exist throughout Mexico!



The cave was dimly lit, and climate controlled to ensure that the angels did not get more than their fair share. I suspiciously knocked on one of the stacked barrels to make sure it wasn't hollow. Once we settled in, some of us sat at a long wooden table with benches. Others, like myself, stood.

Next to the table, behind huge jail-like iron bars, was another section of the cave used to store hand blown glass bottles capable of holding several liters. (I half expected the ghost of Jose Cuervo to appear behind bars singing “Dead Men Tell No Tales.”) These bottles, explained Juan Mesa to me, had been used to transport mezcal wine over one hundred years ago!

“You can make a fortune selling them on e-Bay,” he said.

All around us were barrels of valuable, resting tequila. Some of the barrels had dozens of signatures from previous VIPS, probably international distributors of Jose Cuervo products. Sony stood at the front of the table and announced that we were the first civilians ever to be allowed inside the cava.

She then quizzed us on Cuervo information. The right answer would get a snifter full of Reserva de La Familia—from the barrel! I answered her second question correctly, and was rewarded.

Full flavored, sweeter and with more wood notes, drinking Reserva de La Familia from the barrel was unforgettable!

As a plus, we were given the honor of signing our very own barrel of Reserva de La Familia. In spite of Sony’s directions, as soon as she disappeared up the steps of the cave, many of us took snapshots of our prized barrel. Like Juan Mesa said, “We may never be here again!”

No matter what I thought about Jose Cuervo's marketing, their mixto line, or their amusement park atmosphere, I simply couldn't argue with over two hundred years of experience. Not when it tasted like Reserva de La Familia!



After a delicious lunch of traditional Mexican dishes, flawlessly catered by Cuervo's Cholula restaurant next door, and then chased with a glass of sweet Agavero, we had only a few minutes to explore the rest of Mundo Cuervo. Our bus would leave shortly for the Tequileña distillery just a few blocks away.

The museum/hacienda that is Mundo Cuervo is filled with exhibits in each room. One of my favorites was a Day of The Dead display of mariachis. For weeks, I had been listening to classic mariachi CDs by Vicente Fernandez and Javier Solis, gearing up for this trip. I was a little disappointed that I hadn't heard some of my favorite drinking songs since arriving in Tequila.

I snapped a picture of the skeleton mariachi band, as well as one of an elaborately decorated bar, bought two items at one of the gift shops, and hopped aboard the bus in plenty of time. True to his word, Harry would wait for no one, and asked our driver to take us to Tequileña. Then, I remembered that I had left my notes at the bar!

“Stop the bus!” I called.

Reifer pointed to where Tequileña was so I wouldn't get lost, and then I jogged off to find my notebook.

I felt like such a dolt! The world's worst journalist. Only an amateur like me would lose sight of my notes. Good thing I still had my camera and plenty of film.

I couldn't exactly remember where the bar was at Mundo Cuervo, so I stopped at one of the gift shops to ask for directions. The girl behind the counter pointed me in the general vicinity, and that's when I saw Nick. He was carefully choosing another bottle of tequila to take back home with him. It was only our first full day in Tequila, and he had already amassed an impressive haul!

I told him the bus had already left, but that I knew where it was headed. While he paid for his tequila, I found my notebook at the bar where I had left it. The two of us then hoofed it up the street to Tequileña.

In the afternoon heat, Nick was breathing heavily, and I offered to carry a bag for him. He politely refused, even though he was loaded down like a pack mule. He carried two full bags plus his cameras slung over his shoulders. He wasn't about to part with any of his valuable cargo!



We recognized this distillery by the huge banner hung over the barbed wire atop the high fence that surrounded it. It announced the new home of AsomBroso, which billed itself as “The World's Most Exclusive Tequila.”

Since its inception, AsomBroso, the brainchild of a Hollywood producer, had been surrounded by controversy. From the interestingly shaped bottle that the CRT had tried to ban, to its well written website replete with fabrications, this tequila was not be ignored. The brand had been removed from the NOM list the month before, but it quickly reemerged in a new partnership with Tequileña. This partnership seemed temporary since the rumor was that the owners of AsomBroso were building their own distillery.

One of the two security guards at the gate let Nick and me in, and we caught up to the rest of the group at the fermentation tanks. They were being guided by Elena Valencia, the beautiful Director of Mexico Operations for AsomBroso that TPO and I had met at breakfast. She was accompanied by Mauricio Amigón, Vice President of Mexico Operations, whom we'd also met.

By this point, viewing the bubbling, brown, crude substance that would eventually turn into the spirit we all enjoyed, was becoming commonplace. Watching Elena describe the process was much more fun! Then, she led us to something totally unexpected outside....

Column distillation. Standing three stories high, this distillation machine looked like a glorified clothes washer. One could see the clear liquid sloshing onto the porthole. Our guides admitted that this manner of distillation was not efficient, but it added something unique to the flavor of Tequileña's products.

Tequileña was the home of some well known favorites like Lapis, Don Fulano, Pura Sangre, and the hard-to-find Tres, Cuatro, Cinco.



As Elena and Mauricio took the troops into the warehouse, I ran into Cor and Chelle. Cor was tirelessly recording every tour for future podcasts on their website. In one corner, I saw boxes stacked full of Lapis añejo ready for shipping.

I asked Cor and Chelle if they had ever tasted Lapis. Both shook their heads no. I told them that I had had the añejo about 4 years ago, and remembered that it was quite tasty. So tasty, in fact, that I was tempted to finally buy my first bottle of tequila to take back with me.

I found a portly Tequileña employee and asked him in Spanish if I could buy a bottle from him. I informed him that my friends had never tasted Lapis before. Like a man possessed, he asked me to wait while he searched the dozens of pallets of Lapis. He returned with three of the familiar pyramid-shaped bottles.

Alarmed, I told him that that wasn't necessary. I didn't want him to get into trouble breaking open cases just for us! He then introduced himself as Hector Morales, Production and Warehouse Manager. He was more than happy to oblige.

Stunned, Cor, Chelle and I looked for glasses in which to pour the Lapis. Luckily, Chelle still had her glasses from the agavero served to us at Mundo Cuervo. Hector then popped open the Lapis añejo and poured.

It was just as I had remembered. Smooth, nutty, and a hint of caramel and vanilla. Hector explained that this was a mix of five year old añejo from both French Oak and American Oak barrels.

Next he poured the reposado, which was not as impressive as the añejo, although both Cor and Chelle enjoyed it.

Finally, Hector broke open the frosted pyramid bottle of Lapis Platinum. A very subtle nose was followed by a mouthful of citrus flavor. The vinegary finish was vaguely familiar--like Casa Noble's new Crystal. I had a suspicion, and I asked Hector if it was triple distilled.

He explained that all Lapis tequilas are double distilled. The citrus flavor was due to their process of blending both alembic distilled and column distilled tequilas. Plus, the vinegary finish which reminded me of Crystal, was caused by letting the tequila rest in the fermentation tanks just a bit longer.

After a few more snifters full of each, we offered to tip Hector for taking the time and trouble of letting us taste Lapis. He refused.

“It was my pleasure,” he said, proudly. “Besides, it wouldn't matter if I had a great tequila, but I treated you poorly. This way, you know that we make great tequila, and you'll tell everyone about it, too!”

Cor, Chelle and I toasted Hector for his hospitality.



Finishing the snifters of Lapis, we heard the strains of mariachi music coming from outside the warehouse. At last, the music I had waited for!

Walking into the warm sunshine, I let out a mariachi's yell. Everyone turned to look, including the band. We found the others already enjoying antojitos and plenty of tequila under a shaded lunch area in back of the warehouse. Elena and Mauricio were behind a circular outdoor bar serving portion cups of AsomBroso on ice.

I recalled that serving tequila on ice was a technique used by distributors when sampling products to prospective clients. It gives the impression that the tequila is smoother than it really is.

“Where were you?” asked TPO.

“Having a private Lapis tasting in the warehouse,” I said.

“And you didn't come and get me?” he asked, incredulously.

“I figured you were into something,” said Todd Bowen with a smile.

Reaching the bar, Elena quickly poured out a flight of AsomBroso for each of us. On the counter were the infamous bottles of the Platino, Añejo, and the new La Rosa. Rested in red wine barrels, their contentious version of a reposado has a rosy tint. This was another issue that AsomBroso had overcome with the CRT.

Wrapping up my notes on Lapis, I concluded that there was really only one way to make tequila--only one true recipe. But, there were several ways to tweak that recipe, and this was what distinguished one brand of tequila from another. This adjustment to the original recipe was what had made Tequileña so consistently successful.

The mariachis were an animated bunch, adding humor to their expert musicianship. During an intermission, they asked if there were any requests. I suggested they play a favorite by Vicente Fernandez, Caballo Blanco.

While the mariachis played on, I sipped on a portion cup of AsomBroso Platino. Its sweet, floral notes tickled my nose. I wondered how they managed to infuse their blanco with a slight vanilla flavor without barrel aging. The answer didn't matter.

Tequila, mariachis, sunshine, and a beautiful woman to gaze upon. What else did one need?



On the bus ride back to the Mision Tequillan, Cor, Chelle, and I mentioned our impromptu cata in the bodega of Tequileña. Others, including Reifer, were disappointed that there weren't more of the distillery's tequilas available for tasting. It wasn't a total loss, however.

Reifer and several others were able to purchase a number of bottles of the rare Tres, Cuatro, Cinco at reduced prices. And I was now the proud owner of a frosted, pyramid-shaped bottle of Lapis Platinum!

The sun was setting as we arrived at the hotel. We had an hour before Carlos Phillips would join us in the conference/dining room of the hotel for a tasting of what I termed “the champagne of tequilas,” Penca Azúl.

It was odd how this portion of the tour came together. Due to our tight schedule, there would only be time for visits to one, maybe two, distilleries in the Los Altos area. We reserved those for our final day in Tequila. Tequila La Parreñita (the distillery where Carlos and his partner, Norma Ruiz, produce Penca Azúl) being so distant was voted out.

The Ruiz family has been making tequila at La Parreñita for over one hundred years. Their most popular brands are Parreñita, and Caballo Moro. It is also the home of Mil Pencas for another brand owner.

Just weeks before the tour, and the itinerary almost settled, Cor and Chelle met David Ruiz. He ran his own business in Texas, and had family ties to a distillery. When David found out about the tour, they suggested he give me a call. We spoke at length, and he was anxious to jump on board. He then told me that his cousin was Norma Ruiz of La Parreñita. I couldn't promise anything, but I gave him Harry's contact information and told him to hurry.

I never expected my friend Carlos would be the one to drive in from Guadalajara to meet with us! [Due to other business commitments, David Ruiz was not able to join us on the tour.]

Carlos, the Managing Partner of Penca Azúl, works tirelessly on the marketing and sales of his small batch treasure. I enjoyed the hours we spent talking about the ups and downs of the tequila industry when he first came to New Mexico. He is stubborn to a fault about maintaining the level of quality of every ounce of Penca Azúl. He is a shrewd and intelligent businessman, and I learned a lot just listening to him.

The hotel's conference/dining room was a separate building just a few steps outside the lobby. Inside, the dining tables were neatly arranged with white tablecloths, wine glasses, and the popular Penca Azúl mini reposados. The group was already claiming seats for the best view of Carlos' presentation.

While his young male assistant prepared the room with boxes of Penca Azúl, I sneaked up behind Carlos and grabbed him by the shoulders. After exchanging a few words, and posing for pictures for Lou, Carlos began his speech. I sat in the front table with Reifer and his elegant wife, Blanca, along with TPO.

Having already been exposed to the wondrous Penca Azúl reposado, I observed the group's reactions to Carlos' stellar tequila and I figured that I was spoiled.

Penca Azúl had been available in New Mexico for a couple of years, but many in the group had only read about it. Some had seen photos of the famous hand blown bottles with the beautiful blue agave inside. Most all had never even seen the minis, and I had had quite a few. It was a kick to witness this fine tequila through fresh eyes (noses and mouths?).

Carlos sprinkled vital statistics about his tequila throughout his presentation, stressing the importance of its quality. Using only ripe agaves with a 28% sugar content, slow cooked in brick ovens, naturally fermented and double distilled, their small batch reposado was rested in white oak barrels. Then, he surprised us.

Out came the bottles of the new Penca Azúl blanco in the green handcrafted bottles. These beauties would be available for distribution by May 2006. Crisp, clean, and refreshing, I was glad that Carlos had finally decided to release a blanco.

At last, the sparse bottles of Penca Azúl añejo made an appearance. The hand blown bottles were clear to reveal the tequila's amber hue. In the last two years, this particular marque had caused a splash in the high-end tequila world.

Never having had this version of Penca Azúl (New Mexico had not been fortunate enough to receive any of the limited cases), this was a real treat for me. One sip said it all--

Balance and consistency. I had never tasted an añejo that was not overwhelmed by the wood notes of barrel aging, until now. From blanco, to reposado, to añejo, nothing about Penca Azúl was lost in translation. The prominent agave flavor always shined through.

Reifer was overwhelmed. A long time collector and añejo aficionado, he knew a great spirit when he tasted it. He almost applauded for the flavor and nose of this extreme boutique tequila.

“We age for the smoothness,” declared Carlos, “not the wood flavor.”

It's this kind of attention to detail that makes Penca Azúl one of the most sought after tequilas on the market.



Our tasting came to a close, and it was time for Carlos and the rest of us to relax and eat again! Some of the group was lucky enough to purchase bottles of Penca Azúl for the trip home.

The hotel's kitchen, located inside the dining/conference room, had laid out a buffet table loaded with typical Mexican fare. I chose a torta—sliced pork between a bolillo, a type of hard French bread. It was a little dry, but very tasty.

“Come here, my friend,” said Carlos. He stood me in front of a bowl filled with a red, soupy sauce. Taking the ladle, he poured the sauce over the sandwich. “This is how you eat a torta ahogada,” he said. Literally, a drowning sandwich.

Back at our seats, Carlos and I discussed my political problems in finding a venue for our next tequila tasting event in New Mexico. He described how busy he had been last year, and how the rest of 2006 was shaping up with the promotion of Penca Azúl blanco. I also profusely complimented him on his fabulous añejo.

After what seemed only a few minutes, Carlos was saying good-bye. He and his assistant had an hour's drive back to Guadalajara for another full day's work tomorrow. Again, I felt cheated of spending more time with a friend in the fascinating tequila industry.




Shortly after Carlos left, many of us milled around, talking to one another about the full day we had had. While comparing notes with Todd Bowen and Clark Munkel, Todd said, “Of all the tequilas we've had today, Penca Azúl really impressed me.”

Then, I saw the twinkle in his eye. It was followed by Clark's sly grin.

The two of them had decided to break open a bottle of their upcoming añejo for the group to savor. Todd wanted to know their expert opinion on Fina Estampa's new offering. Another sneak peek in a day full of them! They also showcased a custom designed wooden stand for the bottle. Cor Knijnenburg sidled over and joined me as Todd poured two wine glasses of the añejo.

Gradually, all eyes turned to Todd and Clark as they shared their añejo. At first taste, it was just as complicated as their award winning reposado, and totally different from the Penca Azúl añejo. Todd explained that they were still experimenting with the añejo's labeling and packaging.

Seeing the bottle, Lou Barton took photos of it from different angles. Serious bottle collector, Tim Carter (who's extensive collection of tequila bottles is the basis for Mark Cannon's wildly popular website Pocotequila.com) jealously eyed the bottle of Fina Estampa with its wooden stand. Todd told us that he and Clark had a surprise planned for the group involving the stands, but we would have to wait until the last day of the tour.

I suspected that Todd's competitive nature had urged him to follow up Penca Azúl with his own impromptu tasting. Like any proud owner of a fine tequila, he took every opportunity to promote Fina Estampa's artesanál quality and craftsmanship. And taking a page from Cuervo's Taberna del Tequila, he had a sequestered audience to solicit honest feedback.



A feeling of accomplishment and appreciation settled over us. We had been privy to secrets, exposed to the rarely seen, and treated like true experts. We were enchanted by exhibits, lulled by gardens, and serenaded by mariachis. Serendipity and coincidence had prepared our path with pleasant surprises.

There were more smiles in this room than I remembered seeing the night before. Cigars accompanied some of those smiles. The irrepressible Tom O'Halloran had plucked his stogies from his Tommy Bahama shirt pocket and was sharing them. Tim Carter and I were the first to light up. Cor followed, with another glass of Fina Estampa.

Sharing his good fortune, Iron Chef broke the seal of one of his prized bottles of Arette that he had secured from the distillery this morning. That bottle was quickly emptied, and a few others popped open their minis of Penca Azúl.

The kitchen staff had long departed. The management of the Mision Tequillan must have decided that as a fun loving group, we were harmless. Instead of throwing us out into the parking lot, they let us celebrate in the dining room. The staff would be back in the morning to clean up.

Little by little, the room emptied. Many of us just succumbed to another full day. Eventually, I did, too. Saying my good nights, I climbed the long three flights of stairs to my room and fumbled for my key.

Once inside, I pulled back the bed sheets, flipped on the TV, and plopped onto the bed. Leaning against the headboard, I struggled to set my watch alarm again, hoping I would hear it in the morning.

The last thought I remember before nodding off was, Could it get any better than this?

Sunday, March 12, 2006

I've agonized over this blog/article for at least a week. Like the fermentation tanks of agave juice that we witnessed at each distillery, my mind bubbled with brown, acrid, sweet and sour memories trying to make sense of everything.

Where do I begin? How do I even start to describe the sorts of things this group experienced? The sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and textures of the precious little city of Tequila, Mexico. I tried everything to avoid having to sit in front of my computer to attempt to tell what it was like.

I tried doing my laundry, instead. But every t-shirt that I wore had dried, caramel colored stains from the cooked agave that we tasted. Its sweetness I recalled instantly. I could even see the thick juices dripping from my hands.

And what about the dirt stains on my socks? The red clay that reminded me of my beloved home state of New Mexico. As Carlos Camarena, owner of El Tesoro de Don Felipe had explained on our visit to his distillery, it was the iron oxide in the soil that turned it a deep, rich red color. Along with the stunning blue of the agave, the horizon along both Tequila and the Los Altos region simmered in eye-wrenching color.

How could I even think of washing out the stains? Who would believe me when I'd tell them that I'd been to Mecca, climbed Mount Everest, and seen The Holy Land—Tequila--if I didn't have the stains from the agave and the soil to prove it?

And what about the changes we witnessed in each other? Changes that will last a lifetime. Changes that will not allow us to see things in the same way again.

How do I make this not just a documentation of a glorified field trip, but a meaningful, funny, and exciting telling of an event that may never be repeated? It's almost as if the whole trip was one big life-cata.

I felt an obligation, a duty, and a responsibility to make this account of Ian Chadwick's historic “In Search of the Blue Agave Tour” as interesting and enlightening as the tour itself. Not just for us, the forum members, but also for future Tequila Aficionados whom would some day wander onto this site in their own search of the blue agave.

After reviewing dozens of notes, I decided that the only way to recount this extraordinary journey fairly, completely, and honestly, was to write it exactly as forum member, and my now friend, Tom O'Halloran (TPO) had suggested.

“Just start with Dear Diary....”

But this is not going to be just a factual description of what happened each day. That sort of reporting is for upcoming articles and blogs that are to follow from others and me on this site.

What I want to cover here is the human side of our experiences. The anecdotes, stories, jokes, and lessons that others that come after us may encounter on their quests. I want it to be as strong as the first distillation from the still—untamed, harsh, full-flavored, and with a higher octane, but in the end, still tequila.

So if you will allow me to use you, the forum members and others, as characters in this first distillation of the retelling of Ian Chadwick's “In Search of the Blue Agave Tour,” I promise that with every sip, there'll be a warm, fuzzy feeling deep inside.

And the best place to start is at the beginning.



Wednesday, March 1, 2006
[I had staked out my usual spot at Jose Cuervo's Taberna del Tequila. A table behind the bar where I could see the multi-screened TV. It had been remodeled since my previous visit last year. Now, instead of the logos of each of the Cuervo brands, the interior was painted in bright yellows and oranges to reflect the “Vive Cuervo”/1800 marketing campaign. A clever way to make the consumer feel he or she is in the middle of a Jose Cuervo ad. The general consensus of the wait staff was that the yellow had to go!

I was in for my obligatory three-hour layover from Albuquerque, so I took out my notebook and jotted down the following lines.]



The e-mails were getting hot and heavy a few weeks before the tour. Lots of needling, kidding, and excessively bad humor. We felt like kids waiting for Christmas to arrive. There was an underlying excitement that was similar to meeting that very pretty girl you've always had a crush on, but never had the guts to ask out on a date.

In fact, it felt like getting ready for a blind date—a 36-person blind date! That's how many of us are going on this historic, five day, whirlwind fact finding distilleries tour in Tequila, Mexico.

We were about to meet a bunch of people with only one thing we knew we had in common—tequila. Weird and surreal at the same time, but that added to the excitement. I couldn't wait to see my old friends, too.

Jose Hermosillo of Casa Noble, Carlos Jose Phillips of Penca Azúl, Cor and Chelle Knijnenburg of Tequila Tastings.com, Tim Carter and Mark Cannon of Pocotequila.com, had all been big supporters of past New Mexico International Tequila Experiences™, but whom I hadn't seen in over 3 years.

And there were new friends, too, like spirits importer Clark Munkel of Sailing Star, and Todd Bowen of Fina Estampa tequila. I had helped them in a small way to get their tequilas into New Mexico, but I had never met them.

I wanted to meet Harry Reifschneider (Reifer), the co-moderator of Ian's Mumpsimus forum who had gone above and beyond to organize this tour. I know from putting on my shows that organizing an event like this can be a logistical nightmare! This is most certainly a labor of love for him, too, even though he is a tequila veteran and long time collector.

I was also curious to meet the mysterious “Lirubis,” David Yan Gonzales, freelance writer, connoisseur, and consultant to tequila companies. His posts and tasting descriptions of the tequilas discussed on the forum were infamous. He is an outspoken proponent against bulk tequila shipments to the US, and on keeping tequila 100% puro de agave. He has a palate on steroids, and I wanted to make sure he wasn't just a figment of my imagination.

And finally, to meet the legend himself—Ian Chadwick—who's website, In Search of the Blue Agave, is the standard for tequila information on the Web. Run a query on any search engine, and you'll find his site among the first to appear in the results. In fact, his was the first website I came across when I started my research on tequila over 6 years ago.

(He has a harrowing drive today in snow flurries to get to the airport in Toronto, Canada, then to fly to Guadalajara, and then to join us this afternoon at our first stop, La Cofradía, home of Casa Noble tequila.)

That's what I love about this business. Most of the getting-to-know happens on the phone, on the forum, and in e-mails, and relationships are forged. But everybody knows relationships are solidified when you meet in person.

So, here I am waiting for three of the forum members that had promised to meet here for a drink before boarding our flight to Guadalajara together.

Gabe W, from Sunnyvale, CA, Tim Osborn (Iron Chef) of San Diego, and Tom O'Halloran (TPO) from Las Vegas. Meeting this last guy worried me. I was actually the reason he was coming on this tour.

I also manage my own forum, and a few months before this trip, I had noticed a new member who called himself TPO. Once I checked his website, I found a curiously familiar tequila web page. It was a blatant copy of Ian's tequila website.

Ian had expressed disdain in the past on the plagiarism of his site without giving proper credit, so I e-mailed him about TPO's web page, and to pay him a visit online. A few days later, TPO began appearing on the Mumpsimus forum. Next thing I knew, he was going along on this trip! I wondered what he would do if he found out that he was going to share a plane ride with the guy who fingered him to Ian!

Judging from his off-color posts to the forum, his questionable avatar (a kid with sunglasses, a do-rag and a beer flashing the peace sign), and his recent tag line added to every post (“Are we there, yet?”), I felt sure he also carried a gun!



No one here, yet. They're probably afraid of missing their connecting flight to Guadalajara. I have just enough time to order a Gran Centenario reposado in a snifter--no lime, no salt—before hustling to my gate on the other side of Sky Harbor.

“Good choice,” said the waitress, knowingly. “The only thing better is the Gran Centenario silver.”

Pleasantly surprised that she knew her tequilas, I took that as a good sign! [Little did I know how important Gran Centenario would be later on during our visit to Cuervo's La Rojeña distillery.]



Thanks to the moving sidewalks in Sky Harbor, I made it to the gate just as my section of the plane was boarding.

Squeezing my way down the aisle, I searched for any faces of tequila fans already seated. Just then, we connected.

“You Mike?” asked a burly, goateed guy in a Panama hat. His Tommy Bahama shirt pocket was bulging with big fat cigars.

“Yes,” I replied, as I was nudged by someone's carry-on.

“Hi, I'm Tom,” he said, reaching into his shorts pocket.

TPO! I thought. I prayed that he wasn't feeling for his brass knuckles that had somehow gotten past security.

“Gabe and Tim are behind me,” he informed. “Here, take something for the trip.” He secretly handed me a small round bottle that I instantly recognized. It was a mini of Don Julio blanco.

I chuckled, settled into my seat and made a mental note to get TPO to sign the wooden cap of the mini for me later.

Once in the air, I popped open the mini and poured its contents into a plastic cup left over from my earlier Diet Coke. It wasn't a Riedel glass, but I practiced what I had learned from my friends, Cor and Chelle Knijnenburg about tequila tasting.

I didn't want to seem like a total rookie when we arrived in Tequila! After all, at our last event, I had participated in the first ever cata conducted in New Mexico by them and their company, Tequila Tastings.com.

Sniffing the Don Julio before sipping, and distinctively smelling bread, I overheard Tim Osborn talking passionately about the tequila tour with the young lady sitting next to him.

Iron Chef is a hulking man of over six feet and two hundred pounds. There are linebackers in the NFL that aren't built like he is! He's a Chili Head, to boot. Listening to him explain the distillation process of tequila to the young woman, it was easy to hear the anticipation in his voice.

Gabe, on the other hand, was younger than he sounded on the forum. He looked almost too young to shave, but had been a student of tequila for some time. I'm not sure why that surprised me. I'm a former smooth jazz radio disk jockey, and part of the job description is “not supposed to look like you sound.”

The crowded flight to Guadalajara did not turn into the Party Plane that I had anticipated, but…

The adventure was just about to get started!



Landing in Latin American airports is always fun. We disembarked on the tarmac and were bussed to the main terminal. Once we claimed our baggage and visited Customs, there was the required game of Red Light-Green Light. Gabe and I were the last of the group to play.

We were instructed by a Customs agent to walk up to a what resembles a stop light at a crosswalk, and then to press the button underneath the lights. There was a sigh of relief when both Gabe and I got the green light.

“What was that about?” asked Gabe, wondering if he had won the game.

“Red light means you get a body cavity search,” I said, tongue-in-cheek.

Making our way to the airport exit, we were met by the rest of our group, plus couples, Roy and Jeannette Ross (Roy from Texas), Jerrett and Laura Wichman (Wichie13) from Ontario, Canada, and soft spoken, darkly-handsome Nick Sitinas (Oceanos), another young forum member of Greek decent from New York. We were truly an international group, then.

Roy and Jeannette are a stunning couple. All smiles, and the first to shake our hands. This portion of the group had landed within an hour of each other, and it was Jeannette who was kind enough to arrange the transportation from the airport to our hotel in Tequila.

Jerrett, an affable Canadian, seemed quiet (or overwhelmed by all the excitement and hustle and bustle), but his wife Laura seemed eager to get the tour started. I asked if anyone knew whether Ian's flight had landed, yet. Jerrett said that he was still en route, and confirmed that the weather in Toronto that morning had been snowy and cold.

Outside in the Guadalajara sunshine, though, it was a balmy 85 degrees!



Our van was already waiting outside, and soon we were off in air-conditioned comfort to the Mision Tequillan, the finest hotel in Tequila.

Conversations were boisterous and filled with laughter as we all tried to get to know one another a little better. Then, the excellent driver announced that there was cold beer in a cooler for everyone.

The conversations got that much better! Cold beer is certainly a universal language. That's when I decided to confess to TPO.

“You ratted me out?” he laughed.

Tom explained that he had been sent a template from an unknown supplier with all the tequila information. He had even asked on his web page that if anyone knew the source of the information, to please notify him so he could give proper credit. (He has since revamped his website.)

The first agave field, two Sol beers, and a bathroom break at a rest stop in the middle of the toll road later, and we were at our hotel in Tequila.



Check in was quick and easy. Reifer had taken care of everything. The tall, gray-bearded co-moderator of the Mumpsimus forum looked me straight in the eyes and shook my hand firmly, welcoming me. Up three flights of saltillo tile stairs, I placed my luggage in my room, and then bounded down, notebook and camera in hand, to meet the others.

The old hotel echoed with chatter. The open-air lobby had an extensive collection of tequila bottles under glass on one wall. And on a coffee table between some sofas, was a familiar, half-empty bottle of Fina Estampa blanco. I knew immediately who the two guys were that hovered around the bottle.

I shook hands with Todd Bowen, the rugged importer of Fina Estampa, and his slick and dashing partner, Clark Munkel, of Sailing Star. One of them handed me a plastic cup of the blanco, which at this writing is soon to be available in the States. I had had the good fortune of being one of only two people in the US to have first tasted this new blanco from the award-winning producer of Fina Estampa reposado.

I savored it just long enough to hug my friends Chelle Knijnenburg, a statuesque blond, and her Dutch husband, Cor. I also ran into the golf-capped Mark Cannon and his wife, Deb, who was on her first trip with him to Mexico.

It wasn't long before Reifer announced that it was time to get into our bus for the short ride to La Cofradía, the famed distillery of Casa Noble. There, we would also meet up with Ian and the rest of the late arrivals of our large group. The blind date was soon to be a reality.

Our luxury motor coach, which had been arranged by Lirubis, was spacious and comfortable, and equipped with a microphone. Like a general preparing his troops for battle, Reifer handed each of us our itinerary for the tour. He also made it clear that if we were more than ten minutes late, we would be left behind.

Curiously, TPO suggested it would be a good idea if we paired up to help keep each other on time, especially if we enjoyed ourselves too much. Our schedule looked tight for the next few days, and there was no doubt that we would need every minute. I was determined not to miss any of it!



Rounding a turn, my excitement level cranked up a few notches when the rolling hills of blue agave began to appear. Emblazoned on the side of a hill, the name La Cofradía announced that we were approaching the home of some of the finest tequilas made, and the headquarters of my friend, Jose Hermosillo, CEO of Casa Noble.

Turning onto a dirt road that led through the front gates, we soon stopped in front of the main building. Standing on the front steps was Jose—Pepe to his friends—ready to greet each of us personally. That was when it hit me....

The realization that I had made it! I was here! We were here! It was also the moment that a silly, permanent grin attached itself to my face, and the whirlwind of senses and emotions began that wouldn't let up until the last day of the tour.

Pepe approached me and I hugged my old friend warmly. He looked comfortable in a blue long sleeve shirt rolled at the cuffs. He was calm and collected as the last time we'd seen each other at our previous Tequila Experience. While we waited for Ian and a few other late arrivals, Pepe invited us into the main building.

Cor, Chelle, and I were in awe. The interior of the main building was made almost completely of marble. Directly ahead, behind a marble staircase that led upstairs, was an entire stone wall with a waterfall emptying into a sunken fountain in the marble floor.

On several nichos in the stone wall were bottles of the different brands produced at La Cofradía. To the right was a separate room with even more nichos filled with bottles of notable tequilas from the distillery. I called it The Shrine. The building had a church-like quality to it, and at first, we spoke in whispers.

To the left was Pepe's office. On the walls were vintage black and white photos of Guadalajara, certificates, and his logo produced for last year's “Triple X” the movie ad campaign. This last item, he informed me, came at a sizable investment.

After taking his picture at his desk (and he turning the tables on me and taking my picture at his desk), we were informed that Ian Chadwick had arrived.



These words will be recurring ones in the following pages. There was no other way to describe these events on this first late afternoon of the Blue Agave Tour.

The first time Ian meets Reifer, his co-moderator of the Mumpsimus forum. It was through Reifer's insistence that Ian attend this historic tour with us.

The first group picture taken on the grounds of La Cofradía. It was in front of an old buckboard loaded with barrels that was once used to transport mezcal wine.

Our first of many guided tours where we are shown the art of the jima by one of the field workers on the grounds. And the first time Ian handles the coa himself to whack the pencas off of a sacrificial blue agave. The first time many in the group get to act as a jimador for a few minutes. (When my turn came I gracefully declined. “I don't do yard work,” I said.)

Our first sunset in picturesque Tequila. The sun’s rays filtered over the hills of blue agave, dramatically lighting our photos of La Cofradía.

The first time a group this size visits the new La Cofradía Museum of Tequila. I had forgotten that Pepe had e-mailed me about it months ago. He had even sent me the information on how La Cofradía had been given its name directly from a display in the museum.

And the first look at the elegantly set tables for the evening’s inaugural event...

The cata, conducted by my friends, Cor and Chelle Knijnenburg. Both had expressed concern weeks before this night about how exactly to introduce tequila tasting to the group. For many, it would be their first experience of a proper tasting. I assured them that whatever they came up with would be as smooth as a glass of Casa Noble Crystal.

Incidentally, there was another first concerning Crystal and Ian Chadwick, but first, let me tell you about my encounter with the ethereal Lirubis.



For months, Lirubis (David Yan Gonzales) and I had been jousting on various subjects on the forum. From marketing and branding of tequila labels, to his loathing of bulk tequila sales into the US. He frequently alluded to knowing more about the tequila industry and its history than he was willing to divulge. I took every occasion to goad him into revealing more information on certain subjects than he wanted.

His reviews of everything from tequila to golf equipment on Epinions.com were infamous. He wrote in a manner that made him sound confident, cocky, arrogant, and absolutely right. When he introduced himself to me, he was all of that—and younger and shorter than I imagined! We connected instantly.

From the moment I set foot off the plane, I vowed to get the inside stories from the people I met and the distilleries that we would visit. Although it was my first visit to La Cofradía, and I would probably miss some important information on the guided tour, I felt drawn to follow this guy on another kind of parallel tour to another dimension.

Followed by Chelle and Cor, who would be my cohorts on many of the following side trips and mini tours, Lirubis led the way into what would be my crash course in sensory overload--my first organoleptic adventure.



The Lirubis Tour began abruptly, right after all the pencas had been sliced off the young agaves.

Snapping a penca in half, he encouraged us to smell the fresh cut. “This way, you can smell how fresh—green (vegetal)—the agave is.” He warned us not to let the sap of the cut agave rest on our hands and fingers. “It burns,” he said. This was certainly not an aloe vera plant!

He led us into La Cofradía's huge brick production building where the air was heavy with the musty odor of roasting agaves. There, we caught up with the rest of the group just in time to taste the sweet, juicy cooked agave. With the enthusiasm of a little boy, Lirubis urged us to taste the cooked agave and to remember its flavors of honey, caramel, and sweet potato. This was not the first time that I had tasted cooked agave.

Ron Cooper, founder of Del Maguey Single Village Mezcals, and who would join us on the last day of the tour, often brought cooked agave to our New Mexico International Tequila Experiences™ for customers to taste. I was glad to have had another opportunity to refresh my sensory data bank, as Lirubis called it.

Next came the fermentation tanks and distillation vats. Again, Lirubis encouraged us to stick our noses as close as possible to the brown, bubbling crude to smell the CO2 being released by the natural yeast. Not sweet, but sour.

A short distance on the catwalk, and he dipped his finger into the distillation vat showing us it was safe to do the same. This time, the taste was almost vinegary, and to me, without much of an alcohol kick. Even for Chelle, who had conducted many entertainment catas, dipping and tasting the raw liquid that would soon become tequila was jaw dropping.

At each station, the smells were different from what we had experienced at the previous one. It was amazing to note how many changes this plant undergoes at each stage of its production into our favorite spirit.

The spry and crafty Lirubis would show us one more organoleptic trick with a snifter of Casa Noble's triple distilled Crystal, but not before another historic first.



Weeks before the Blue Agave Tour, Pepe had e-mailed me concerned about how exactly to honor Ian Chadwick since, in his words, “Ian has done such a great thing, getting tequila known. He is probably the most visited tequila site, plus one of the best informed. He should get special recognition....”

I remembered when I first met Jose Hermosillo at our last Tequila Experience after years of communicating via e-mail. He had never been able to attend our show due to industry politics, but that never stopped him from supporting our event. He had presented me with a special signed bottle of Casa Noble añejo—number 1000 off of the first production. I was floored!

I'd suggested that perhaps something similar would be appropriate, but nothing prepared us for the following.

Once we were all seated inside the museum for Cor and Chelle's cata, Pepe proudly announced that we would be the first people to try the new and improved Casa Noble Tripled Distilled Crystal. It would not be on the market until April 2006. Smiles and applause followed as we couldn't wait to dig in.

Next, Pepe, and Carlos Hernandez, President of Casa Noble, called Ian to the front of the tables and presented him with a signed bottle of Casa Noble's new Crystal—numero uno off of the production line! Even I got choked up. Pepe and Casa Noble had just redefined the level of class and hospitality by which all the rest of the distilleries would be judged for the remainder of the tour.

Cor and Chelle followed with flawless instructions on what to look for in tequila. The smell, color, flavors, and tears. Each place setting had a checklist where we could jot down notes. For those who had never experienced a cata, they made it almost too easy.



Cata completed, the Casa Noble tequilas flowed freely. Lirubis reappeared with a snifter of the new Crystal in one hand, and a piece of cooked agave in the other. Dipping the agave into the Crystal, like a Western movie gunslinger dips a cigar into his whiskey, he alternately sucked on the agave and sipped on the Crystal.

He urged me to do the same with another chunk of roasted agave. It was then that I organoleptically came full circle, from what agave is to what it eventually becomes. That true taste of agave was solidified and indelibly stamped onto my sensory data bank.

(I would be haunted by Lirubis' instructions for the rest of the tour. Due to his work schedule, he would be in Guadalajara for the rest of our stay. In the days to come, as we visited each new distillery, I would sorely miss his guidance.)

Before we knew it, our group was spirited away into the place where the angels get their share. Where darkness and silence prevail year after year. Where dampness is the favored climate no matter what the season.

...The cellars!

Tonight, the lights were on, the music played, and laughter filled the air. Over a few more rounds of Crystal, and a morsel or two of delicious antojitos (finger foods) elegantly laid out on several tables, and Lirubis and I were trading dirty little tequila secrets. It turned out that he really did know more about the industry, and was a wealth of stealth!

So intense was our question and answer session among the barrels that time ran away from us. The second and final departure of the bus back to our hotel was announced. In a heady, tequila induced fog, I hugged both Pepe and Lirubis goodbye and climbed aboard. Our time together had been too short.



The Mision Tequillan lobby buzzed with excitement. The half of the group that had left La Cofradía earlier that evening had returned telling tales of the oldest bar in Tequila and how much fun it was. Juan Mesa, another well connected member of the group who had helped with the planning of the tour, tried to generate enough interest in a second wave to the bar. But there was someone else getting our attention.

Mauricio Pons, the cigar-chomping owner of Tequilitas.com, the largest collection of mini tequila bottles in the world, was also on hand for the tour. Living in Mexico, and wheeling and dealing in tequila for a living, Mauricio generously shared a new tequila he was endorsing, Gran Jubileo. Several open bottles were available on the coffee tables in the lobby, and someone handed me a plastic cup of the añejo to try. It was overly sweet compared to the Crystal we had just sampled, and I sipped it without much gusto.

Just then, Cor appeared smoking a margarita-flavored cigar and handed me another plastic cup of the stuff. I spied a bottle of Fina Estampa and a few souvenir bottles of Crystal, but they were already empty. I continued to sip Mauricio’s candy-flavored tequila.

The entire group had not really had the time to get know one another personally, so this was the after-hours mixer. Some had naturally paired with others, but the conversations were similar.

Unanimously, we had decided that our visit to La Cofradía had been over and above any of our expectations. We had experienced so much in so short a time! Talking about it helped us put things into perspective. It just couldn't get any better, could it?

Just then, one of the members announced that the management of the Mision Tequillan had asked us to retire, or to go elsewhere. The lobby was officially closed, and we were too noisy for the other hotel guests.

I looked at my watch and it wasn't even midnight, yet. It occurred to me that the few remaining minutes of March 1st was still Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, and a Catholic Holy Day of Obligation. Besides, most folks in Tequila still had to work tomorrow.

But not us! We took our mixer onto the hotel's dimly lit parking lot, instead. And from the back of Mauricio’s truck, more sweet tequila flowed.

Looking up at the night's sky, I imagined we were doing what the Aztecs had done centuries before us (or at least the early inhabitants of this region)--we drank tequila and celebrated ourselves.

“I love you, Mike Morales!” belted out Mark Cannon, his golf cap off to one side. “You're the sh*t,” he said, pointing his finger at me.

“You're the man, Mark,” I said loudly, returning the compliment.

“No, seriously,” he continued. “I'm glad you're here with us!” Deb, his wife, smiled sheepishly.

Suddenly, there was love all around us. Choruses of “I LOVE YOU, MAN!” were followed by handshakes, hugs, slaps on the back, and genuine good will.

I was overcome. “Todd, Clark,” I boomed, “I'm glad to finally meet you two!”

“Cor, Chelle,” I continued, “I've missed you guys!”

“TPO,” I called. “Thanks for the Don Julio on the plane today!”

“I love you, man!” came the response behind me.

I spun around to find Tom O'Halloran staring back at me with a blank look on his face. Although he stood in one spot, had there been an earthquake at the time, he would've been the only person to be able to walk a straight line!

That's when I declared that I was going to bed. It was now almost one in the morning, and I had been up since 3 AM the day before. Our first full day in Tequila was slated to begin in just a few short hours.

“Wussssy (or something that rhymed with wussy),” slurred Rachel Nicholls Bernk (CaliTequilaSipperGirl). A surprisingly knowledgeable and aggressive tequila collector, she had made the trip with her husband.

Sidling up next to me, she repeated, “Wussy!” She then formed the international hand symbol for wussy.

I took another look at TPO. He wobbled like a spinning top on its last rotation.

“With a capital 'P'!” I said, weaving through the crowd in the parking lot.

I stumbled to the lobby, and stomped up three flights of stairs to my room. It was stuffy, so I flipped on the air conditioner with its nifty remote control, and then clicked on the TV. I made sure that my watch alarm was set, too.

The channel was in Spanish, so I sat on the corner of the bed to listen. I managed to get one leg out of my jeans, and collapsed in a heap onto the rest of the bed, unconscious.

Canadian Tequila Expert Spearheads Historic Tour to Mexican Distilleries!

Tequila Aficionados Go In Search of the Blue Agave...

For Immediate Release!

An Internet forum delegation of tequila aficionados, led by expert Ian Chadwick, embark on an historic, whirlwind five-day fact finding distilleries tour in Tequila, Mexico.

Collingwood, Ontario, Canada, February 24, 2006: From March 1 to March 5, 2006, an Internet forum delegation of over thirty tequila aficionados, led by tequila expert and Collingwood Town Councillor Ian Chadwick, embark on an historic, whirlwind fact finding distilleries tour in Tequila, Mexico.

The intensive Blue Agave Tour will be filled with guest speakers, special ceremonies, and plenty of tequila tastings graciously hosted by the prestigious distilleries of Casa Noble, Jose Cuervo, El Tesoro de Don Felipe, and Herradura, among others.

“I'm intensely curious to learn about the inner workings of the tequila industry—the practices, processes, technologies, and agriculture,” says Chadwick. “At heart I'm a researcher, so any opportunity to further my knowledge and to uncover new facts is one I jump at.”

Ian Chadwick's website, In Search of the Blue Agave, has been the premier source of tequila information for novices and connoisseurs of the spirit for over 10 years. His online discussion forum, Mumpsimus, boasts more than 700 members worldwide including many involved in the tequila industry.

Joining Councillor Chadwick on The Blue Agave Tour are university students to business owners to management consultants. Most notable are Todd Bowen and Clark Munkel, importers of award winning tequilas Fina Estampa and Herencia de Plata; Cor and Chelle Knijnenburg of Tequila Tastings.com, an entertainment tastings conducting firm; tequila consultant and graphic artist Mark Cannon of Pocotequila.com; David Yan Gonzales, freelance writer; tequila collector and Mumpsimus moderator, Harry Reifschneider; and Mike Morales, co-organizer of the New Mexico International Tequila Experience™.

Exclusive guest speakers include Ana Valenzuela-Zapata, botanical and horticultural expert on agaves, and Ron Cooper, importer and founder of Del Maguey Single Village Mezcals.

Among the distillery hosts will be Jose Hermosillo, CEO of tequila Casa Noble, and Carlos Camarena, owner of El Tesoro de Don Felipe.

“I have a personal passion for Mexico,” continues Chadwick. “Its culture, arts, society, language--and I really want to get to know it better.”

Councillor Chadwick was the driving force behind Collingwood's Sister City relationship with Zihuatanejo, Mexico signed in June 2005.

Staff Writer John Tanasychuk of South Florida's Sun-Sentinel recently posted an article about Boca Raton's newest Mexican restaurant, MoQuila. Named by owner Karl Alterman,

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Here's the interesting part...

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Could this be El Tesoro's first attempt at Mega Marketing their brand to influence the palates of new tequila tasters in the next 10 years?

What's next?

...Don Julio disposable cameras?

The Mega Marketing of a Brand Part III--Back To The Future With Jose Cuervo

Let's Review...

In Part I, we took you inside the Taberna del Tequila, tequila producer Jose Cuervo’s stealthy way of introducing their products to a new captive audience—air travelers—all across the country.

In Part II, we revisited one of our favorite haunts from the 70’s and 80’s, Southern California’s El Torito Mexican restaurant chain. There, Cuervo has been steadily maintaining their relationship with tequila drinkers for almost 50 years.

In this final installment in the Mega Marketing of a Brand series, we promised you a sneak peek at the future of Jose Cuervo’s marketing strategy. We also hinted that the future had almost nothing to do with tequila.

In fact, the chances are good that—without you knowing it—you're already up to your caballitos in their mad plan to take over the tequila taste buds of the world. Also, we’re going to explain how you're part of Jose Cuervo’s mysterious “forth tier.”

So reach for your cellular phone and...

Text Me!

Blackberries, laptops, PDA’s, and desktop computers. E-mail, e-mail discussion lists, blogs, forums, and podcasts. Broadband, DSL, and wireless Internet. Reaching out and touching someone has never been speedier!

It’s so easy for all of us to communicate our thoughts and feelings, now. Almost instantaneously, a hot deal on a caseload of your favorite blanco—or a good or bad review of a new reposado--can be forwarded to hundreds of tequila aficionados with the click of a mouse.

In fact, that’s exactly how I do it.

As soon as I write this entry, I can publish it on this site. Every member or surfer can then agree or disagree, express their feelings on the subject by writing back, and even forward this blog/article to their friends. No more waiting to hear what anyone thinks about the hype behind an average reposado, or the reemergence of a favorite añejo.

Just post and click "send."

Large and small tequila producers now have websites that allow consumers to check them out, contact them, and ask questions. By the same token, these producers can glean information from their customers and request feedback.

What do you do with all this information? How do you use it?

Jose Cuervo has figured it out. But first...

How ‘bout a Beer With Your Tequila?

In 2004, the Adams Beverage Group, a market-research firm in Connecticut, reported that U.S. spirits sales rose 3.8 percent in 2003, the highest level since the 1980’s. Beer sales dropped by 0.6 percent that same year.

According to New York-based consulting firm, Beverage Marketing Corporation, beer’s overall share of the alcohol beverage market has eroded like the salt around a margarita glass. By contrast, since 2000, the market share held by wine and spirits has grown, especially among younger consumers.

Finally, the Distilled Spirits Council of the U.S. reported in 2004 that spirits accounted for 29.7 percent of alcohol sales in the U.S. compared with 28.6 percent in 2002. Most of that growth was from the super-premium brands that, for our purposes, are defined by the council as tequila retailing for more than $27. The volume of all types of super-premiums sold represented about 1 percent of the U.S. market.

Paul Walsh, liquor giant Diageo’s Chief Executive, said it best at last year’s annual shareholders meeting:

“Every year in the U.S. for the next ten years, there will be half a million more consumers coming into the legal drinking age, and they will be adopting spirits earlier in their life cycle,” he proclaimed.

People 21 to 24 years old account for 30 percent of the nation’s beer consumption. Beer’s demise is blamed on the relationships being forged by spirits companies with consumers in their 20’s.

Are you seeing a trend here?

Snappy radio spots, flashy cable television commercials, vibrant print ads in magazines and on billboards, hip sporting events sponsorships, and interactive websites are all weapons used by marketing experts to get ‘em while they’re young, and make ‘em lifelong customers.

What Jose Cuervo is doing to ride the wave of this trend is no secret any more.

The Mystery of the Missing Forth Tier

In Part II, we explained the process by which your favorite tequila is distributed in the US. Developed after Prohibition and known as the “three tier system,” it includes importers, distributors, and every bar and restaurant you can think of.

We also shared with you the secret to Jose Cuervo’s success in working the three tier system. They’re so good at it that they have quietly modified it to fit their 21st century marketing plan. It’s so slick, that even Al Capone would approve!

Jose Cuervo has actually added a “forth tier.” And, although it is illegal to sell directly to the end consumer (you and me) they've just about managed to do it using—are you ready for this?--your cell phone!

Virtual Velvet Rope

In London this past spring, in conjunction with i-movo, Splendid Communications, print, outdoor advertising and radio promotion, Cuervo tequila invited consumers to enter a drawing for tickets to an exclusive Cuervo de Mayo party.

Consumers were instructed to enter by texting Cuervo with their birth dates to a designated number. Winning entries were sent a text message with a code word. Reply with that code word and bingo...! Instant text tickets. On the night of the event, staff members used PDAs to verify the winners.

The response rate was phenomenal. Eighty percent of the target market that relies on mobile phones to organize their lives answered the call. In the marketing world, this was a home run!

So the next time you get that text message on your cell, or whatever gadget you use, it could be from Jose Cuervo himself.

With all this high-tech marketing, what’s next? JCTV?

…Maybe!

Tequila Telenovelas

Not to be outdone by Diageo, Allied Domecq, together with Conde Naste Traveler Magazine, has produced a television show for the Oxygen Network. Bring Home the Exotic re-creates travel experiences for friends and family. What makes this five-part series so special is that Kahlúa is the special guest star!

Geared toward women in their 30's, the show not only allows Kahlúa to control its product and brand messages, it also meets the spirits industry's marketing standards that at least 70 percent of a TV or film audience is over age 21.

The show has been so effective that Allied Domecq is concentrating on producing more shows instead of focusing on product placements in existing TV shows and movies.

On the flip side, in partnership with Hispanic media powerhouse Telemundo, and Mexican television producer Argos, Jose Cuervo has graciously allowed filming of the hot new telenovela, Corazón Partido, on the grounds of La Rojeña distillery. Sauza has also jumped at the chance of having their distillery featured in the show. The exposure is not just in Mexico and Latin America, but to millions of Hispanics living in the US that watch Spanish language television, too.

The Tequila Love Boat

Like Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck in the classic cartoon of piano oneupmanship, Sauza just finished sponsoring the “Sauza Tequila Academy” on board Carnival Cruise Lines' “Fun Ship” Fascination.

Remarkably similar to Cuervo's Taberna del Tequila spotlighted in Part I, the number two tequila producer designed a program to teach adult passengers everything they've ever wanted to know about Sauza.

From its distinguished history, to specialty cocktails, to sponsored topside parties, cruise vacationers in search of new experiences can discover another side of Sauza. With t-shirts and recipe cards, passengers can even relive their memories of the Tequila Academy once they've returned home.

Nano-Nano!

According to the Distilled Spirits Council, each year the alcohol industry spends more than a billion dollars on “measured media” advertising. That's TV, radio, print, and outdoor. Radio and TV alone are estimated for this year to be about $110 million. That's a four-time increase from 2000!

There's no escaping our friends Jose Cuervo, Sauza, or any other tequila company that decides to follow their lead and can keep up.

The trend in the spirits industry is for cross marketing with a guerrilla attitude. That's shooting your enemy not from behind trees and bushes, but...

From where they don't expect you to be! Nobody's proven to be better at this than Jose Cuervo.

With downloadable music videos, podcasts of news reports and interviews, and even your favorite TV shows—all with commercials--expect him to be everywhere. Even on that i-Pod with the small screen that you carry with you in your car, to the gym, and while you walk your dog.

To paraphrase Scarface—Pacino, not Capone--

“Let me introduce you to my little friend...Jose!”

In an informative article in the Los Angeles Daily News last December, Staff Writer Brent Hopkins recounted the humble beginnings of one of the oldest Mexican food restaurant chains in Southern California.

El Torito--which also celebrated its golden anniversary in December 2004--was the brain-child of ex-fighter pilot Larry Cano, whom Brent describes as having "...a few recipes and knowledge of an exotic sounding foreign drink known as tequila...."

In the late '70's and early '80's, it was the ultimate place to eat, drink, and party. I'll admit, I was among those who enjoyed traditional Mexican food with more than one margarita and a round of shots.

According to the article, El Torito grew into an international powerhouse with restaurants as far away as Turkey and Abu Dhabi. After many changes in ownership, it has been streamlined to a manageable 69 locations.

Through it all, Jose Cuervo was there.

El Torito has now begun to focus on its cuisine, but one look at the menu--which we'll do shortly--tells you that that's not the only thing management is emphasizing.

In a relationship that the Animal Planet calls symbiotic--like the small fish feeding on scraps from a shark's jaws, or birds picking the bugs off a hippo's butt--Cuervo has benefited nicely over the years by partnering with major restaurant chains all over the US. They have single-handedly influenced thousands of tequila drinkers.

Where other tequila houses like El Tesoro de Don Felipe and Cazadores visit bars and restaurants around the country, Cuervo's version of a grass roots campaign is a little bit different.



In Part I, I promised a glimpse at Cuervo’s La Rojeña distillery, but first, more about me....

I had just moved to New Mexico from Southern California. My first job was in Customer Service with one of the largest paper, food, and chemical distributors in the state. Starting at the bottom, I figured the quickest way to becoming a darling of the company--a route salesman--was getting to know the old dogs.

Before my arrival to this company, one other product that it sold was liquor. When the family-owned operation sold out, half the sales force morphed into one of the two major liquor distributors in New Mexico. Those that stayed with the food and chemical division longed for the good ol' days.

At one of the quarterly meetings' mandatory dinners, 25 raucous salesmen (and a few of us from Customer Service) ran up a $3000 bar bill on the company's credit card! During a round of Cuervo Gold shots is where I heard it first.

"This reminds me of the time at Jose Cuervo," said one salesman.

"What a party that was!" agreed another.

Simultaneously, they described the beauty of the facilities, the grounds, and the tequila at Jose Cuervo's La Rojeña distillery.

The hospitality at these Cuervo "education" junkets is legendary. Mariachis, food, and all the tequila you can drink. Not to mention a generous spiff to each salesman for every caseload sold, or every new account acquired.

"We used to send two delivery trucks a week to every territory," lamented another salesman. "One with food, and the other full of booze!"

Ah, the good ol' days!

Many tequila distilleries graciously open their doors to tequila aficionados. Corralejo, La Cofradía (Casa Noble), and Herradura's Tequila Express, a train that takes turistas to their distillery, to name just a few. But no one does it better--or did it first--than Jose Cuervo.

From Applebee's (The Perfect Margarita made with 1800), to here in Albuquerque, New Mexico with the Garduños chain of Mexican restaurants (with locations in Arizona and Las Vegas, too), to the popular El Torito. Wherever you live, in every major or minor market in America, there is sure to be a restaurant chain--or liquor supplier to that restaurant chain--that has fallen under the spell of La Rojeña.



To understand how deeply Jose Cuervo is entrenched in El Torito's menu, you have to be aware of the "rules of engagement." It's called "the three tier system," and it's the key to the final segment of this series, so heads-up!

In order for a tequila producer--or any spirits producer, for that matter--to get his product to the US, he has to use an importer (Tier One). This importer is in charge of spreading the word to as many spirits distributors--state and national--as possible (Tier Two). Once distribution is secured, their sales forces are responsible for getting the product to their consumers--every bar and restaurant they service (Tier Three).

Here's the secret to Jose Cuervo's success...

Like a computer virus, Cuervo can be found everywhere along these three tiers. At one time or another, every importer, distributor, and chain of bars or restaurants has been invited to enjoy the pleasures of tequila at La Rojeña.

Unfortunately, unlike wines, spirits, by US law, cannot be sold directly to the end user (you and me) by the producer. Let's drown our sorrows over that one, shall we...?



On every table is a simple, hand-sized brown three ring binder. A painting of a jimador harvesting a blue agave--that looks coincidentally like a well-known photo taken at one of the Cuervo agave fields--shares the cover with the El Torito logo, a lonely bull, and the word auténtico. Desserts and drinks in one little package, all made with Jose Cuervo products.

There's the classic Cadillac Margarita with a side of Grand Marnier. You can order this signature drink in different colors like Green (Midori Melon), Pink (cranberry juice), and Red (Rémy Red).

The Blue Mesa Margarita with 1800 and Blue Curacao. The Real Mex Margarita with Tradicional. And a series of popular tequinis with names like Buenas Noches and Agave Tequini.

To be fair, El Torito serves other very respectable blanco, reposado and añejo tequilas like...

Sauza Tres Generaciones...Don Eduardo...Chinaco...Corralejo...Herradura...Cazadores ...and Quita Penas. Along with the Cuervo standard bearers, Gran Centenario, Reserva de La Familia, and even Don Julio (suspiciously missing from Cuervo's Taberna del Tequila menu in the previous segment).

You can even wash down your dinner, drinks and dessert with a cup of Mexican coffee made with Tradicional and Kahlúa.

Each of the signature drinks is very reasonably priced from just over $5 to a bit under $7. Shots range from $5.25 to $10.50.

Although their menu tries to give equal time to other tequilas, when you check the bar, there's no mistaking who's on display...

Jose Cuervo!

In the final segment, I'll take a look at where the marketing future of Jose Cuervo is headed. Here's a hint...

You'll be surprised to learn that it has nothing to do with tequila! Instead, it's slick, high-tech, and chances are good that you already own one. And with it, Cuervo conquers the mystery of the missing "forth tier."