bon appétit: How One Man’s Obsession with Fruit Created the UK’s Most Exquisite Spirits

Barney Wilczak and his tiny distillery are bottling the wildness of the orchard.

BY OSAYI ENDOLYN

May 12, 2025

“The fruit is coming.”

The urgent phone call that Barney Wilczak anticipates typically comes in the middle of the night. The caller is one of his local farmer partners who has just walked their orchards to touch, smell, and taste the fruit. The brief exchange notifies Wilczak that the quince, perry pears, blood oranges, raspberries, or damson plums destined for distillation are ready to harvest. A distiller of groundbreaking eaux de vie, Wilczak describes his work as being “in service to the fruit.” Part of that service is to represent the fruit at its highest level of flavor, to harness its essence. So the processing must begin right away. Wilczak takes the farmer’s call as his cue, rises in the early darkness, and prepares to receive by the truckload literal tons of fruit.

Wilczak built Capreolus Distillery in 2016, on the same property as his childhood home in Cotswold, southwest England. His eaux de vie have an almost unnerving ability to transport the drinker to those abundant fields. The region is known for its endemic fruits, many of which don’t appear in other parts of the world. The name Capreolus refers to the deer that frequent Wilczak’s garden. “They’re the most beautiful native deer we have and they’re so ephemeral,” he says. “You see them and then they disappear. It felt apt, as we try to capture things that only last for moments.”

That late night/early morning phone call from Wilczak’s farmer collaborator wouldn’t have been a surprise. Wilczak firmly believes that production revolves entirely around the wisdom of the trees and the people who cultivate them, not marketing drives or quarterly sales targets. Every piece of fruit that arrives at the distillery is hand-sorted to check for outliers of “too much softness or spring,” before it is hand-pressed and guided through distillation and bottling.

Hand-sorting gooseberries at Capreolus. Photograph By Barney Wilczak

You might say that Wilczak practices a type of conservation: His farming supports much-needed biodiversity, and drinkers around the world can experience hyperlocal plants they wouldn’t otherwise have access to. The quince evokes notes of cinnamon, fig, and dark cherry. It tastes of earth yet bright twig and leaf—to drink these eaux de vie is to be situated in terrain.

“Last year we spent 7.5 hours sorting 700,000 individual raspberries. That’s 3.6 tons,” Wilczak says, with a look of bewilderment. All that fruit, time, and effort across a team of four people, yielded roughly three hundred 375-ml bottles. With a sense of pride and maybe surrender, he adds, “It’s ridiculous.”

Wilczak has fans, if not acolytes, of his so-called ridiculousness. Among them, famed cocktail bartender Ryan Chetiyawardana, professionally known as Mr. Lyan, who features Capreolus eaux de vie at Seed Library in London’s Shoreditch, Washington D.C. bar Silver Lyan, and Super Lyan in Amsterdam. He credits Dawn Davies of The Whisky Exchange for introducing him to the spirit. “It was revolutionary to try an eau de vie that represents my favorite fruits as a UK native,” Chetiyawardana says. “Barney sees the whole essence of the plant as not just a biological creature, but what it stands for. I was flabbergasted.”

A view of the orchard

Preserving nature in the bottle

Wilczak found distilling through his love of nature. As a student he thrived in botany and biology, but couldn’t make sense of working nonstop in a lab. He pivoted to study photography and specialized in conservation. In brief, he became a plant photojournalist. “I was photographing habitat restoration on six continents, building media libraries for botanic gardens in 118 countries.” Alongside his studies, he developed a hobby for making ciders, exploring the technicalities of distillation and méthode traditionnelle, a style of winemaking that involves a secondary fermentation in the bottle. The leap to distilling was not a huge jump. “It all comes down to a love for plants.”

As he approached age 30, Wilczak experienced “a bit of a life crisis.” He didn’t want to only document plants for visual archives. He wanted to promote the growth and appreciation of those plants for others. “I realized that people are obsessed with varietal differences in wine, but it’s also true of every single fruit.”

When Wilczak launched Capreolus, his bank account was overdraft by eight pounds, but supported by his partner Hannah Morrison, whose taste became imperative to Wilczak’s process. Everything was once done by hand and muscle, though he’s since acquiesced to buying a mill. He committed to work with farmers within a fifty-mile radius of his home-distillery, and just recently purchased meadowland to plant quince trees, which will soon bring that particular eau de vie production within range (it was previously the lone outlier).

His focus on local farmers came down to pay equity. “Early on I was talking to someone in Finland about wild-picked cranberries and they said, ‘We’ll get them to you for 2 euros per kilo.’ I knew that was really really cheap for wild-picked fruit,” he explains. The fruit would be picked in Russia. “What are the labor laws there? What are people getting paid?” Wilczak wanted to work with people he could meet, with operations he could see. “We wanted to pay people a proper wage, focused on farming well,” he says, a nod to the price point of his lineup, which can range from about $90 to $185.

With his local focus, he learned that there was not “a single piece of overlap in flavor or aroma.” The realization inspired him to learn how these individual expressions manifested. He spent about seven years studying fruit distillation practices in epicenters of Austria, Germany, Italy, and France, and translating non-English books on the subject.

After distilling perry pears from 200-year-old 45-foot trees, Wilczak was shocked. The distillation didn’t smell like fruit. “It smelled like sun-warmed bark, ripe and unripe wood, autumnal leaves, and almost like the grass around the trees,” he says. “My self-guided education had a huge focus on a technological, yield-driven way of working, but that robbed the eau de vie of complexity and organic structure,” he continues. “I became interested in making eaux de vie that are truly organic and expressive of where they come from.” That meant becoming dogmatic about respecting the inherent knowledge of the trees and the ecosystems that allowed them to produce such varied fruit. “Suddenly, the eaux de vie started to smell like the orchards.”

Black currant eau de vie in progress. Photograph By Barney Wilczak

Around the world with eaux de vie

In New York City, Jorge Riera, wine director at Frenchette, Le Roc, and the newly revamped Le Veau d’Or, features Capreolus eaux de vie as the finishing touch on leisurely, decadent meals. “It’s mind-blowing,” Riera says. “The delicacy, the finesse, the floral notes that Barney gets out of it. I was blown away.”

Riera first tasted the lineup in 2018 in Vienna, Austria, at Karakterre, a 14-year-old natural wine conference celebrating producers primarily from central and eastern Europe (the festival now has a NYC iteration going into its fourth year). Riera immediately called his importer, PM Spirits, to see about getting Capreolus to the States. “With the raspberry eau de vie, you feel the fuzz of the fruit in the nose,” he goes on. “They work with nature and it’s beautiful. But for me, I see the result at the dining table. I see the emotions from people immediately.”

One of the more evocative eaux de vie is the damson plum, a quintessential British fruit. “Old recipes of distilling damson take on this slightly jammy, tart note,” Chetiyawardana says. “Barney manages to capture the smell of the blossoms as you walk past the bush. It has that white flower elegance. The purple fruit notes encapsulate the tartness of the skin and the yield of the flesh. It pulls through to this wonderful fresh almond note from the kernel.”

For this writer, Capreolus eaux de vie feels like falling into a safe, warm memory you didn’t know you had. The damson plum is an example of Wilczak’s conservation ideology: “No one knows what to do with a cooking plum; it’s something we’ve lost from our vocabulary. We can let these things slip away. But if we want those genetics as a resource given changing climate, we have to give a justification for them to be grown.” His exquisite bottles make for a compelling reason. The only experience better than sipping Capreolus is to share it with someone as willing to be moved as you.

@agavesocialclub - PM Projects destilado de agave

Agave Social Club reviews PM Spirits Project - destilado de agave. Doug has quickly turned @agavesocialclub into one of the most respected agave-centric podcast & social media channels out there.
if y’all aint following him on all different platforms already, y’all should.

video credit: Agave Social Club / Doug Price

#drinklessdrinkbetter #agave #pmspirits

Vinepair: The 15 Best Mezcals for 2024

Mezcal enthusiasts, of which there is a growing, occasionally dogmatic rank in the U.S., can reasonably argue that theirs is the ultimate spirit. Mezcal’s mid-aughts adoption in cocktail culture helped breathe new life into familiar cocktails via simple riffs, and gifted drinkers with more than a handful of beloved modern classics.

While those drinks rely on larger brands placed for that very use (like Del Maguey in the Naked & Famous), the category is overwhelmingly made up of small to tiny-scale producers. These artisans employ hands-on, traditional techniques, harnessing the diversity of seemingly endless species of agave to provide stunningly complex sipping spirits.

With much to geek out on, VinePair’s guide to the different types of mezcal, and the different varieties used in production, offers a comprehensive primer. But we’re here to explore brands, expressions, and the best bottles available right now on the U.S. market.

To compile this list, we tasted more than 60 samples submitted to VinePair (gratis) by producers, importers, distributors, and PR firms working on their behalf. Each was tasted non-blind, allowing us to factor price into our conclusion, and ultimately determine whether the bottle was worthy of inclusion on this list — the aim of which is not just to highlight the crème de la crème, but the best offerings across a wide range of price points.

NETA Tequilana Capón

NETA, Tequilana Capón – Wilfrido García Sánchez

Prior to the pandemic, the Tequilana agave (Blue Weber) grown by producer Wilfrido García Sánchez’s uncle Lalo made its way to Jalisco, where it was used to make unidentified tequilas. When those commercial relationships broke down because of shutdowns, Wilfrido and brother Ramón started crafting their uncle’s agave into fine, small-batch sipping spirits. One such example, this is a beautifully expressive release that begins citrusy, fruity, and mineral-rich, with an almost ghee-like quality lingering beneath. The palate is similarly bright and intense, with a finish that lasts an age.

Average price: $190
Rating: 96

Cinco Sentidos Cuishe

Cinco Sentidos, Cuishe – TÍO TELLO & EDUARDO “LALO” PEREZ CORTÉS

Technically sold as an uncertified agave spirit, this mezcal is produced from wild-harvested Cuishe that’s roasted with mesquite firewood and hand-chopped and mashed prior to fermentation. Its profile is lithe and clean, serving bountiful helpings of pineapple, jalapeño, and mineral notes. Smoke is an afterthought, and one that adds just a touch of savory character to the palate and finish, elevating the sipping experience to the next level.

Average price: $125
Rating: 94

Vinepair: Puntas — a High-ABV, Hyper-Traditional Style of Mezcal — Is Going Commercial

It was at the end of a tasting at Eli’s Mezcal Room, an underground mezcal tasting experience located in a local man’s New York apartment, when host “Eli” (not his real name) pulled out one final bottle he thought might interest me: an unlabeled plastic water bottle he had suitcased back from Mexico. It was extraordinarily aromatic and I could smell its vegetal, medicinal notes the second the Poland Spring’s lid was unscrewed. It likewise had a rich, intense, burning flavor — no surprise as it was nearly 70 percent ABV.

When alcohol comes off a still, the distiller cuts it into three parts, each descending in alcohol content, and generally referred to as the heads, the heart, and the tails. The most toxic elements, like methanol, are concentrated in the heads and tails, meaning many distillers across all spirits categories only bottle the hearts to be safe.

But this special mezcal Eli had served me was actually composed of all heads, which, besides methanol, also possess some incredibly aromatic, flavorful compounds like propanol, ethyl lactate, acetic acid, and furfural.

Though formerly the (strictly non-exported) handiwork of hyper-traditional mezcal, of late, puntas offerings are becoming increasingly commercialized and the category has even infiltrated the tequila world.

Puntas on the Palenque

Until recently, most Americans who would have tried puntas (the Spanish word for points, a synonym for heads) probably did so in a similar way to what I did. There aren’t really any commercial examples of it and, quite frankly, bottlings like the one I tasted might not even be legally allowed to be sold in this country for a variety of reasons.

“It’s definitely much more common to find it at the palenque (mezcal distillery),” says Noah Arenstein, who runs the mezcal program at The Cabinet in New York’s East Village. “Because either it’s being used to blend back into the final mezcal and adjust the ABV and flavor … or they’re saving it to drink for themselves.”

If The Cabinet has one of the world’s largest mezcal collections, the bar only has a few commercial examples of puntas. Indeed, Mezcal Reviews, an online database with over 1,800 mezcals listed, has only cataloged 11 puntas bottlings over the years.

La Venenosa, raicilla Puntas

La Venenosa Racilla Puntas is the first example Arenstein recalls seeing on shelves, circa 2016. (While also agave-based, raicilla is not the same as mezcal or tequila.) Cinco Sentidos shipped its first batch of Puntas de Espadín to the U.S. market in 2021. Two years earlier, Mal Bien had started offering Madrecuixe Puntas, which the producer called “the platonic ideal that we imagine spirits to be. Agave, boiled down to its very essence, the plant stripped of everything but its soul.”

“This was always something we would produce at the distillery, ever since we started producing in 2007.”

Cinco Sentidos espadín Puntas

Arenstein finds all the puntas releases have a unique, specific taste. “You get almost a hand sanitizer note,” he says. “You put it on your hand and it evaporates like, you know, a hand sanitizer without lotion would. It has a lightness and kind of effervescence to it.”

If that doesn’t sound too appealing, there’s the somewhat taboo aspect of drinking puntas to consider. Haven’t we long been told that heads are solvent-y in taste and dangerous to drink — not only high in ABV but high in methanol content. And can’t that make you go blind?!

“If I’m pouring puntas for someone I will sometimes preface it with that,” Arenstein says. While a well-cut puntas is certainly safe to drink in small portions, Arenstein admits he has definitely encountered mezcaleros (distillers) with a cloudy-eyed look that has made him wonder, if not concerned.

The Distiller’s Cut

Admittedly, any concerns Arenstein has are not enough to stop him from drinking delicious examples of the style as more and more expressions hit the market. And it’s not just mezcal (and raicilla) producers now sending puntas expressions stateside.

“I think distillation can get really complicated and geeky to the average person,” Estes says, “so we wanted to help people understand what makes this different and unique and special.”

The first release, produced from agave from the La Ladera estate, and distilled at La Alteña, which has been the Camarena family’s distillery since 1937, was cut at 64 percent ABV, though diluted with water to 101 proof. (While a traditional mezcal puntas would never be diluted, tequila can’t legally be bottled in America at higher than 110 proof or 55 percent ABV.)

It quickly became a cult hit, well reviewed on sites like Tequila Matchmaker where it currently scores a crowd-sourced average of 90 among the site’s community. It was also most mainstream tequila drinkers’ first introduction to the old mezcal term puntas. (In Jalisco, distillers use the more literal translation for heads: cabezas.)

“There’s bad borrowing that’s happening from the mezcal world and there’s some good borrowing. And in a way this feels like a good borrowing,” Arenstein says, referring to Ocho’s use of the term. (Estes is quick to note that Camarena’s great-grandfather was making what was known as “vino de mezcal” well before tequila was even a term or category.)

the Philadelphia Inquirer: We tried almost 40 bottles of locally available tequila and mezcal—here are the 16 best

Mezcals and tequilas are the most complex, biodiverse and terroir-driven spirits on the planet. Our tasting panel named 16 favorite agave spirits at a range of price points.

I’m usually all about gifting whiskey come December. But I decided it was time for a change after a memorable reporting trip to Mexico this year following restaurateur and tequila producer David Suro on an epic agave spirits journey across Jalisco and Michoacán. Visiting with revered mezcaleros and tequila artisans was eye-opening and educational. It also reaffirmed my belief that agave spirits are the most complex, biodiverse, and terroir-driven spirits on the planet.

So grab your copitas, mis amigos! It’s time to take my annual holiday booze list south of the border.

With nearly 40 bottles to consider on the tasting table at my house recently, my jicara gourd cup was overflowing. The mere task of assembling these candidates was daunting. The agave spirits market has exploded with international interest but also become fraught with over-industrialization, celebrity label nonsense, and concerns about sustainability.

So I asked Suro, whose restaurant Tequilas is still under reconstruction from a February fire (a reopening is planned for spring), to help winnow them down. I focused on additive-free bottles made largely with traditional methods, all available in the Philadelphia area. Only a handful of tequilas made the final cut. (Suro’s own excellent Siembra Azul brand, which I recommend, was excluded.)

This final list of 16 recommendations is focused on mezcals and their counterparts, distillados de agave, which are essentially mezcals made outside Mexico’s officially designated areas of mezcal’s Denominación de Origin. Tequila is, in fact, one kind of mezcal, but its production methods are typically different and legally can be made from only one variety, Agave tequilana azul Weber, or “blue agave.”Mezcals can be produced from as many as 58 different kinds of agave — every batch is distinct, a reflection of terroir, craftsmanship, and local culture.

As a result, quality mezcals can be relatively more expensive, said Dan Suro, 27, David’s son, partner, and beverage manager at Tequilas, who helped lead our tasting.

“Mezcals were not meant for capitalism. They were were meant to be shared among communities,” he said. “Some batches are just 60 or 70 liters, and take over a month to make from plants that can be 20 years old and are under too much economic pressure right now (due to demand). Yeah, we should be paying $150 or more per bottle to support them.”

“There’s often a big difference,” Dan Suro says, “between premium-priced agave spirits and premium agave spirits.” We focused squarely on the latter, and this list showcases a range of prices. Some bottles are limited, by nature. But all are currently available either through Pennsylvania Fine Wine and Spirits (several by special order only), or in noted South Jersey retailers such as Benash Liquors in Cherry Hill, the region’s prime destination for coveted agave spirits, or Clayton Liquors in Gloucester County, whose growing collection can be sampled at the in-store “Tequila Temple” bar. Philadelphians, meanwhile, can preview many of these gems at agave-forward restaurants like El Mezcal Cantina, Cantina La Martina, La Llorona, Grace & Proper, Vernick Fish, Martha Bar, Condesa, Sor Ynez, and Superfolie. Of course, Tequilas will likely set the standard once again when it reopens in 2024.

Small Batch Mezcales

Neta Espadín Capón

Any perceived bias about the limitations of espadín, the most ubiquitous agave used in mezcal, should be punctured by this gorgeous spirit from Miahuatlán in Oaxaca. Ripe orchard fruits of pear and peach burst through the nose, with well integrated smoke that unfurl.

5 Sentidos Espadín-Cuixe-Madreculxe

An ensamble blend of three agaves (espadín, cuixe, madreculxe)is roasted together underground over mesquite and oak, crushed by hand mallets, and distilled in copper. This 70-liter batch was aged 15 years in glass, which allowed this rambunctious, high-proof spirit to harmonize impressively into rounded flavors that come in waves on the palate with a profile Dan Suro called prototypical Mihuatlán: dried green apples, pepper, and umami lingering on a gentle smoke. 5 Sentidos Espadín-Cuixe-Madreculxe, 101 proof, 750ml.

Vinepair: The 50 Best Spirits of 2023

Dozens of categories considered, thousands of bottles tasted, and almost 12 months in the making, the publishing of VinePair’s 50 best spirits list marks a major milestone in our calendar and one of our favorite annual traditions.

Consider it not a bonafide buying guide — those can be found here — and instead a highlights reel of the best spirits that graced our palates this year. While we recommend picking up any and all you encounter, or ordering a pour from a bar list, the popularity of certain categories and brands, coupled with the limited nature of some of the releases, means the probability of being able to do so varies wildly from one bottle to another. One constant that links them all, however, and the reason each features on this list: It would be a spirited crime not to honor their existence.

So what made the cut? This year served us no end of imaginative and successful experiments; reminded us that stalwart go-tos carry such reputations for a reason; and encouraged us to look beyond the expected from various regions and nations. Prepare for “bog aged” oak, Mexican eau de vie, and countless representations of brown spirits from non-age-stated to cask strength, single-barrel, experimental finishings, and ultra old.

44. Cobrafire Eau de Vie de Raisin

Chances are, you probably missed the launch of the Blanche d’Armagnac (white Armagnac) appellation back in 2015, but you shouldn’t sleep on the products within the category. This 50.5 percent ABV offering from PM Spirits’ Cobrafire project dances between stone fruit brightness and umami-rich savoriness, and promises to leave a lasting impression.

34. Cinco Sentidos Espadín Capón Alberto Martinez

The “capón” technique referenced in this spirit’s name sees growers remove the sprouted stalks (quiotes) from agave, then leave the plants in the ground for extended periods to enhance sugar concentration. The wait is certainly worth it for this bright, fruity spirit, which shatters any notion that Espadín is a characterless, “workhorse” agave variety.

Los Angeles Times: A mecca for mezcal: These are the best agave bars in L.A.

“You’ve got to put a bottle of mezcal on the ofrenda,” says Ivan Vasquez, owner of Madre Oaxacan Restaurant & Mezcaleria, with four locations across L.A. County and the largest small-batch mezcal collection in the U.S. “For me, and back in the villages, a bottle of mezcal has to be there.

“On Día de los Muertos, you drink a copita with your loved ones,” Vasquez instructs. “It’s the only spirit that keeps our loved ones alive. When I drink mezcal on Día de los Muertos, I’m reunited with my grandpa. Thanks to him, I was introduced to mezcal.”

While tequila has had a couple centuries to gain an international following, the rise of mezcal and regional spirits like sotol and bacanora is more recent. It was only in the ‘90s that mezcal gained Denomination of Origin (DO) status, which restricts legal and commercial use of the word, and paved the way for it to be sold across the globe.

The spirit, which imparts earthy tasting notes, exploded in popularity over the pandemic, partially because of the heritage involved — mezcal producers, or mezcaleros and mezcaleras, often utilize methods that have been honed across generations and are unique to their family or village. The final product, Vasquez says, delivers a flavor that can be more layered and complex than wine.

Also known as maguey, the spiky agave plant has been revered by Indigenous Mexicans for millenniums, providing food, practical items such as rope and sandals and fermented beverages like pulque. When Spanish colonizers arrived with the still, agave wine was distilled into spirits like tequila, made exclusively from agave tequilana, and mezcal, which can be made from over 40 other agave types.

“Los Angeles is like the mecca right now for agave distillates,” said Rocío Flores, a mezcalera who grew up splitting time between L.A. and Jalisco and now hosts agave tastings and educational experiences, including the program at Guerrilla Tacos. “It’s probably the one place in the world where you can find the most diverse, the most amazing mezcals that you can’t even find in Mexico in one place all together.”

The global appreciation for Mexico’s ancestral spirits has influenced the tequila industry too. For his part, Vasquez only works with small producers and serves tequila blanco exclusively — no reposados or añejos. When customers ask for corporate brands like Casamigos, he and his staff use it as an opportunity to educate.

“I tell them, ‘Let me bring you several options that are higher proof at a lower price’ and I ask them to enjoy it neat,” he says. “They’re just amazed when they try it.”

L.A. was already a great place to drink agave distillates, but these days the options are overflowing. Included on the list below are agave-focused bars that prioritize stocking small-batch producers and offer flights that encourage imbibers to sip in the traditional style. Some, like Vasquez, even sell rare bottles out of their bars. Whether you’re toasting in celebration or stocking up to savor with your ancestors on Día de los Muertos, these are the best agave bars in Los Angeles.

Imbibe: In Mexico, Families Balance Generations of Mezcal Tradition With Modernization

 TÍO TELLO

Eleuterio Perez Ramos, or “Tío Tello’’ as he’s known among the small community of El Nanche in Oaxaca’s Miahuatlán region, scrambles to cover his freshly roasted agaves. A rare, spring hailstorm has settled over his newly built palenque (mezcal distillery). Tío Tello roasts agave only a few times a year, and almost always in the dry season. Small batches can mean higher risk when you’re making, at most, 2,000 liters of mezcal a year. Any loss is deeply felt, and waterlogged agaves pose specific challenges requiring years of experience to overcome.

Tío Tello’s a little over 70 and sometimes walks with a cane, but he moves quickly when the safety of his agave is at stake. He gathers a mix of bamboo mats and plastic sheets, to protect them from the hail. These agaves took between 10 and 20 years to mature—they could be ruined in an instant.

His youngest son, Eduardo “Lalo” Perez Cortés, works in tandem, doing more of the heavy lifting, moving the agaves to safer shelter while directing two neighbors who are here to pitch in. At 32, Lalo’s the youngest of Tío Tello’s eight sons, deeply tanned and baby-faced, with a bright smile and a compact, strong frame. Some mezcaleros tend to have a quiet, wiry strength from constant manual labor—chopping and mashing agaves by hand is among the hardest work around.

EDUARDO “LALO” PEREZ CORTÉS

Tío Tello and Lalo work with an easy yet practiced rhythm. Lalo’s worked under his father’s tutelage since he was a toddler. Lalo studied accounting in school, but returned to El Nanche to work with his father, and now lives with his wife and two children within sight of their new palenque. It was finished in late 2022, but Tío Tello has been working this rugged piece of land for more than 30 years.

Miahuatlán is a little over two hours’ drive southwest of Oaxaca City, at the edge of the central Oaxacan valley along the Sierra Madre del Sur. Past low, rolling hills and endless variations of brown scrub punctuated by neatly planted fields of agave, down the road from the massive federal prison outside the town of Mengoli de Morelos, sits El Nanche.

Mezcal lovers will tell you that this unforgiving corner of the valley is where the best mezcal in Oaxaca, potentially even in all of Mexico, is made. Spirits produced in pristine environments are frequently romanticized, but the harshness of Miahuatlán seems to provoke a certain intensity of the spirit. High-toned, mineral-forward, and with a marked salinity, these mezcals are unmistakably of Miahuatlán. It could be the terroir, the astonishing biodiversity of agaves, or the technical precision of the region’s producers, but another answer seems simpler: There’s immense value in the generational knowledge passed down in close-knit, extended families of mezcaleros.

OAXACA’S MIAHUATLÁN REGION.

Mezcal’s soaring global popularity has complicated an already complex generational handoff within Oaxaca’s rural communities. These families need to cope with the past while preparing for their future. Yet there’s only so much planning a family can do to secure their legacy. Ultimately, the next generation has many questions to resolve. Do they maintain the family “recipe”? With many of these families so rooted in tradition, even minor changes are magnified. Do they modernize and chase what could be elusive money through multinational liquor conglomerates? These days, opportunities exist in even the most remote parts of Mexico.

Tío Tello recalls that when he was 11 or 12, he started helping his own father by doing small errands. “I brought lunch and dinner at first, but then I would stay and keep him company,” he says. “Since that time, I’ve dedicated myself to the work of mezcal.” Lalo learned along the same path. By the time Lalo could walk, he was watching his father and grandfather make mezcal. The manual labor is essentially the same across generations: processing agaves by hand, scooping the bagasse—roasted and fermented agave fibers—from the wooden tanks into the still.

As a young man, Tío Tello and his family mostly worked with arroqueño agaves, sort of a super-charged espadín, along with bicuixe, a narrow karwinskii subspecies that looks like a giant matchstick once trimmed. The initial wave of modernization started in the 1970s with the introduction of new agave varietals from other parts of Mexico. Arroqueños take more than twice as long to mature as the sweeter and faster-growing espadín. Much of the old agaves were made into mezcal and then not replanted. The rustic field blends of Tío Tello’s youth, using whatever ripe agaves could be harvested at a particular moment, faded away as espadín began to dominate.

“The fermentation will talk to you. I sniff the tank every hour and have to make sure I don’t miss the perfect moment,” says Tío Tello. “It asks for water or tells you when it’s ready for the still. You have to listen.” Unsurprisingly, Lalo’s style is similar to his father’s, but he’s made some small adjustments, especially in how he blends his “cuts,” the crucial separations between the heads, hearts, and tails of the distillation. Together they continuously refine their blending techniques over each new batch of mezcal.

The new palenque promises a smooth handoff and a future for Lalo and his children, but “new” here is still relative. Three worn, wooden fermentation vats sit in the shade under a curved, corrugated metal roof. There’s no electricity or instrumentation, just a few open bulbs for late-night checking of the stills. The hail continues, but under the safety of the roof, Tío Tello’s neighbors continue processing the agaves by hand in a practiced dance—one shaving off chips of roasted agave with a machete, while the other smashes the pieces to bits with an old wooden mallet.

At the end of the day, Tío Tello has taught his son to embrace the rhythms of the palenque. The most important things he hopes to impart to his son, he says, are “preparation, organization, and punctuality.” These sometimes feel like totems of a bygone bucolic era, but this is the only way Lalo knows. “We’re making good, rico [tasty] mezcal that people like,” says Lalo. “We don’t need to change anything.

Logoche is a small community of a little over 100 people not far from El Nanche in Miahuatlán. The village is rightfully famous for its concentration of mezcal production, with many producers belonging to the Grupo Productor Logoche cooperative. There’s an openness to mezcal production here—possibly the result of everyone working together on a few palenques until very recently—and many producers are experimenting with technology alongside traditional practices.

Paula Aquino Sanchez is a dominating presence at her family’s palenque. She and her husband, Hermogenes, have recently become well-known mezcal producers in the United States. Their mezcal, bottled as part of the Neta label, sells for up to $200 a bottle. Likewise, Sanchez commands an unusual level of respect in a country and region where traditional, rigid gender hierarchies are omnipresent. She often takes the lead on mezcal production, but is now in a position where she can pick and choose how she contributes. She’ll occasionally make a batch herself, like the cuixe she pours, laden with so much rich, cooked agave flavor it tastes of maple syrup. Still, she makes the smallest batches among her family because “I’m always in the kitchen,” she says.

Despite that, her presence is inseparable from the palenque. While her husband and youngest son, Jorge, weigh massive, freshly harvested espadín agaves at more than 250 kilos each, Sanchez tours around her family’s agave fields, pointing out medicinal herbs and other rare plants. Paula and Hermogenes have three sons and a daughter. They all work together at the palenque and she recalls how, “after school, I would say to my children, ‘Today is the day we learn distilling, or today we learn fermentation,’ and I would make them do that exact activity.”

AGAVE HEARTS.

Balancing a traditional matriarch’s duties on a farm in Mexico alongside making mezcal is a lifestyle few people (even those in her community) can understand. Sanchez’s path was nontraditional and born from necessity. She has few memories of her father, who also made mezcal and died when she was 6 years old. Alongside her older brother Eugenio, who has since also passed away, she was making mezcal at a very young age, primarily as a breadwinner for her impoverished family. Like Lalo, she initially helped by bringing food to the older men working on the palenque—her grandfather, uncles, and older brother—but she was doing the difficult, manual labor at a much younger age. There were only a handful of palenques in Logoche at the time, so everyone worked closely together, sharing knowledge and techniques.

While her grandfather was the strongest presence in teaching her the art of mezcal production, she considers her late brother her mentor. Like Tío Tello, they were taught by the CRM to double distill mezcal in the 2000s. Sanchez says she prefers the double-distilled mezcal because the old style “gave me headaches,” and is proud of the technical precision she honed in distilling alongside her late brother.“We notate everything now, and I can see that it yields more. We make fewer errors and are always improving.”

Here, they use a modified wood shredder to process agaves. A new, unused tahona sits in one corner of the palenque. While her father and grandfather worked with a tahona, they switched to save time and labor. Now, their youngest son, Jorge, is advocating for the tahona, and they plan to return to the practice soon.

The blending of the old and the new is apparent everywhere in Logoche, but especially through Sanchez. She’s shrewd—over the past decade, making mezcal has given her and her children opportunities that would have been unfathomable even a decade ago—but she still must work within the traditional Mexican patriarchy, balancing all of the work of home and family alongside the grueling labor of making mezcal.

Sanchez respects what she learned from her grandfather and brother, but her focus is forward. She’s proud of her family’s mezcal, but sees room for improvement and refinement. Even with all of the changes she’s witnessed, the traditional culture surrounding mezcal remains.

Clear as a Bell

These elegant (but electric) digestifs are the perfect pick-me-up, nightcap, and grand finale—all in one glass

BY AMIEL STANEK PHOTOGRAPH BY ISA ZAPATA

Once the dessert forks have been surrendered and everyone swears they couldn’t possibly take even one more bite, a final pour of something special on Thanksgiving just feels right. While I can see the merits of trotting out a bottle of bark-bitter amaro or a mellow bourbon that’s seen a few years in oak, these days I take a different tack. When I want to round out a big meal in style, the choice is clear—a clear spirit, that is. I’m talking about things like eau-de-vie, grappa, mezcal, and clairin. Though these liquors are unique in terms of their geographic origin, composition, and production, they share a brazen character, making them ideal meal-enders. Instead of relying on extensive aging in wood to lend complexity, each spirit tastes unabashedly of the raw materials from which they were distilled and the places where they were made. Heirloom apples. Hand-harvested grapes. Pit-roasted agave. Wild-fermented sugarcane. These idiosyncratic products are as lively and expressive as the day they trickled out of the still; with no time spent in barrels to discipline their rougher edges, flavor has nowhere to hide. And at the end of a rich meal, one sharp sip immediately snaps you back to consciousness, like a cold plunge after a sweaty sauna session.

As is the case with all booze, spirits made with care by small, independent producers are going to be more compelling and often boast a price tag to match. But this is the most special of occasions, after all—when else are you going to break out the good stuff?

CYRIL ZANGS – DOUBLE ZÉRO EAU-DE-VIE DE CIDRE

This bright 100-proof apple brandy is a collaboration between culty Normandy cider maker Cyril Zangs and renowned distillery Calvados Roger Groult. It smells and tastes like a brisk fall stroll through an orchard: ripe fruit, a crisp breeze,

LAURENT CAZOTTES – GOUTTE DE REINE CLAUDE DORÉE

Laurent Cazottes’s eaux-de-vie are the stuff of legend, crafted from small parcels of his own lovingly tended trees and vines. To make this style, Cazottes painstakingly dries and hand-pits greengage plums before fermentation, which yields an extraordinarily concentrated elixir.

CLAIRIN VAVAL RUM

Traditional clairin, perhaps Haiti’s most revered spirit, is rum for mezcal nerds. Made from freshly pressed heritage sugarcane varietals and fermented with no added yeasts, each distillation is a unique expression of terroir. This one, from second-generation producer Fritz Vaval, is sunny and herbaceous, each sip gracefully ping-ponging between delicate flowers and salty funk.