It’s 1985. I’m nineteen and visiting my high school buddy James on the campus of Michigan State University. We’re at some bar typical of that time: loud tunes, trays full of pitchers and a ton of obscure stuff attached to the walls.
“Hey! I wantcha to try something!” he says with an excited smile.
“What?”
“It’s called mezcal. It’s not like other booze; comes from the same cactus as mescaline. Gives you a different buzz—like mescaline—I swear!”
I really don’t remember much about this. Don’t think it tasted good at all, and am pretty sure there was no mescaline experience. But after moving to Mexico in 2014 and discovering mezcal, it was the first myth I needed to dispel.
Mezcal Is NOT Related to Mescaline
Mescaline is a psychedelic substance that occurs naturally in a number of varieties of cactus. Its effects are somewhat similar to LSD and psilocybin. I did try it once. Actually I was with the same friend as above, and it could be my experience is difficult to isolate because we combined the mescaline with at least a few other substances. Not long after taking it I laughed so hard I truly thought I would die.
I didn’t.
Anyway let’s be clear: mescaline bears ZERO resemblance to mezcal. And it’s not “another kind of cactus,” because mezcal doesn’t come from a cactus, but instead from a succulent. And not just any succulent; specifically it is a spirit that has been distilled from the agave plant. And there are many varieties of agaves.
Not All Mexicans are Very Familiar with Mezcal
When I first began to enjoy and share mezcal, I assumed that Mexicans here in the central Mexican state of Guanajuato would already be hip to it. Not so. There are plenty of exceptions, sure. It’s also true that some very nice mezcal is made here in the state—mostly (but not entirely) from the Salmiana agave, which grows everywhere here. But unlike those from Oaxaca—and even Mexico City—the Mexicans of the central and northern regions have generally been influenced by stigmas of the past. For one thing, from what I’ve been able to gather, people think mezcal is bad because much of it used to really be bad. Some still are; I’ve had distillations myself that are fully repugnant. If you tried two or three like that, what other opinion COULD you come away with? I get it.
For another thing, it appears that mezcal used to have a reputation of being a drink of the poor people. Last year I heard Sandra Ortiz Brena, co-owner of In Situ Mezcaleria in Oaxaca, interviewed. This article in which she shares some of the same history is in Spanish; so if you’re not a speaker, maybe use Google Translate. I think it’s worth it. She remembers…
(Translated) “When I was a teenager, in the early eighties, it was rare to drink mezcal. Barcardi rum was in fashion. I remember that at a high school party they offered us a drink and I asked for a mezcal. It was like social death.”
So, not understanding this some years ago, I gave a Mexican bartender friend of mine a try of some wonderful mezcal. I didn’t saying anything about besitos, figuring he must already understand. To my shock, he slammed the entire shot, clutched this throat and exclaimed, “NO MAMES!”
Ay ay ay…
When Cecilia and I got married here in San Miguel de Allende in 2019, I tried to use the typical US event booze calculators. They didn’t work well. It’s true that a fair number drank my selection of exquisite artesanal mezcal. Almost no one drank gin, absolutely no one chose vodka, a few had rum—but, if I can use our event as a kind of gauge, Mexicans love beer, tequila and especially whiskey. The Johnny Walker Black was gone very, very soon! A fair number drank wine—but not nearly as much as those calculators recommended; we still have some!
For clarity, many, many Mexicans are super familiar with—and love mezcal. Just not the majority. But, as in the States and elsewhere, appreciation for it is increasing.
Let’s Talk About the Worm in Mezcal
I’ve found a few conflicting stories on the worm, but the upshot is usually the same. Either someone accidentally found worms in their mezcal—or intentionally plopped some in a few bottles.
They call the worm a gusano, and it is the larvae of a couple of different kinds of moths. I’ll say this: I have gotten the impression that these gusanos do have a kind of significance to the mezcaleros. There is some appreciation that the worms have lived their entire life cycles within the agave piña and have to give up their home as a result of the necessary cultivation.
So how do they honor them? By drying them out, grinding them into powder, mixing them with a bit of chili and salt and sprinkling them on orange slices as a mezcal accompaniment, of course.
I have only tried a couple of gusano mezcales, and found them quite poor in taste. Of course if the mezcal itself had been good, maybe it would have been wonderful with the worm. No idea. I’ve heard a few reliable mezcal lovers say they do appreciate the flavor the gusano adds. But suffice it to say—despite the appeal the worm has with tourists and expats—the vast majority I know who are serious about mezcal see it as simply a marketing gimmick. If you know differently, do tell. This may be something I need to understand better.
Mezcal’s Legend of Mayáhuel
Then there’s the legend of the agave Goddess Mayáhuel, known for her beauty, joy and laughter—as well as the way she could bring joy to man. It’s said that, knowing this, the Gods sent a man named Quetzalcoatl to bring her down to earth so that humans could benefit from her gift. But he was caught off guard by her beauty and fell deeply in love with Mayáhuel—who returned his affections.
But this was not supposed to happen. The Gods got angry, separated them and devoured Mayáhuel. Quetzalcoatl was devastated. He buried what remained of her and night after night his tears watered those remains, resulting in a plant that eventually produced a strange elixir, which brought him great comfort. That plant is today known as maguey in Mexico and agave elsewhere.
This one? Oh it’s completely, utterly and totally true.
If you’d enjoy knowing the joy and comfort that comes from the magical gift of mezcal, just let me know. As always, I’m here in San Miguel de Allende, in the high desert mountains of this central Mexican state of Guanajuato. I do tastings. They’re magnificent! Find me and message me for one. Salud!
While visiting Lalocura in Santa Catarina Minas, his explanation is that the gusano must float. As to why the worm must float was missed due to my poor Spanish and I believe it is a quality of how the worms are properly prepared or cooked to compliment the mezcal. He says those at the bottom are a gimic that are just plopped in.