Mezcal with an Outlaw History
Visiting Diego Martínez in Santa María Albarradas and Learning of his Family's Illicit Roots
I think my next trip to Oaxaca will focus on a higher percentage of new regions, but I do enjoy going back to see those we already know. Some in our group had been smitten by Maestro Diego Martínez’ Jabalí from a few years ago; so we thought we’d roll a stop there—into our trip to Santiago Matatlán to see Rigoberto Hernández and another producer I’d only dealt with from a distance.
But I’ve got quite a bit of information to share about Diego; so I think I’ll split that Thursday trip up into two articles.
Diego makes mezcal in Santa María Albarradas, a beautiful little mountain village about an hour and twenty minutes east of the city, and just off the highway. For an idea of how beautiful, check out the below video…
Diego’s family calls their palenque, “Mezcal y Musica,” in honor of his father, Epigmenio Martínez Pérez, who has also been a maestro for many years. Epigmenio has a hell of a story!
Born right there in Santa María Albarradas in 1931, he was 8 years old when his father was shot and killed. Then four years later his elder brother was stabbed to death, leaving 12 year old Epigmenio responsible for the family. So he thought the right idea would be to start making mezcal.
That’s right: at twelve.
Sounds pretty cool, right? Well maybe not. At that time this was fully illegal, and the Federales would search for distillers, throwing them into prison. But, along with his uncle, Epigmenio decided to throw caution to the wind and move forward with this old school outlaw life.
In that day, mezcal sold for only 7 pesos (39 cents US) per gallon.
It was during this time he began to embrace two passions: that of making mezcal and music. He took up the clarinet, and while out in clandestine, makeshift palenques near the rivers, would serenade the stars at night. He also began to teach music.
At 23 he married Facunda Juárez Ruiz and they soon started a family, eventually producing six kids. But it wouldn’t be until 1999, (which was about the time it became legal for individuals to make mezcal), that he’d be able to establish his own palenque at age 68. That’s where Diego, along his brother Edgar, make mezcal today.
Diego Martínez is a very friendly guy. After originally picking up that Jabalí a few years ago, I also ordered some Tobalá and Tepextate from him; so we’re connected via WhatsApp, and he occasionally checks in to say hi and find out when we might return. But he was a little concerned on this Thursday. There was construction going on in the village, preventing us from driving directly to his palenque; so he confirmed our arrival time and said he’d meet us down the hill and take us the rest of the way.
It turns out “taking us” meant “us walking.” 😂
A stroll you say? Hardly. It would only be a mild exaggeration to call it a climb. Geez, I’m glad I work out. If I had known in the beginning how far and how steep it would be, I’d have left my backpack behind, but no. We all grabbed up empty garrafones for the jaunt too—since we might just need to make a purchase or two.
Might. 🤣
When we arrived, the palenque was in full operation—not much different than it was when we first visited. Clearly some volume is done here. The family marca (brand) is “Dos Pasiones,” which is another homage to Papa Epigmenio whose two life passions have been mezcal and music.
I know you’ve seen these videos before—and maybe you’ve witnessed the process at palenques yourself, but I always perk up a bit when the tahona is clanking! See below for the action this day…
As I’d noticed before, Diego has two good sized hornos, which also hints at some volume—as do the multiple stills.
I watched one of the workers mixing tepache in their wooden fermenting tinas, which I’ve seen many times before. I’ve seen some doing it with their hands, but I think normally they use wooden paddles.
After depositing all the crushed agave and water into these tubs, the yeasts get on with its magic. But soon there’ll be a solid-looking “cap”: a dried out layer on top of the liquid. There’s no way the fermentation is going to be consistent throughout, so they need to slosh it all around—blending it. My question is, how often do they have to do this? Once per day? A few times?
Diego tells me they only do it a single time at their palenque for the duration of the fermentation—12 hours after the agave and water are transferred to the tinas. Check out the below video…
At some point we stepped into a fairly small bodega for the tasting. That day he treated us to four distillations: a Tepextate, a Tobalá, a Jabalí and a BIGGER Jabalí at 52% ABV. For me, that last one was the winner—although Fred and Dan each picked up some Tobalá as well. But seriously: if you’re a Jabalí nut, you should really love Diego’s. Go for a visit!
And then came the trek DOWN the hill. Diego was very kind in transporting one of our full garrafones for us. The good news was that the other stuff that was part of our order was also down the hill at his house; so we ambled there and hung out in his living room while he filled us up.
We were introduced to Diego by a certain driver not many years ago. As we pulled into this mountain village he explained to us how the policy of Usos y Costumbres works. In approximately 75% of the state of Oaxaca, this local form of self-governance is in operation. As our driver told us, if we decided to move to Santa María Albarradas, soon thereafter a few local residents would stop by our home and let us know we had a choice: we could pay a tax to help maintain the village, or we could volunteer our time in some necessary capacity.
As for how these things play out, how could I know? But I’ve always held that government is better the more localized it is. And if someone doesn’t like it? Well at least they don’t have to move thousands of miles away for something more suited to them, do they?
It was great to be in a palenque, great to visit with Diego again—and mighty great to sip his mezcal. And you know what’s cool?
It was still morning!
On to Santiago Matatlán! I’ll write about that next here at Mezcal Maniac.
And no fooling: go visit this idyllic spot, and meet Diego for yourself! That—or come see me here in San Miguel de Allende. I’ll set the glasses up for us!