With infections dropping and vaccinations rising, at least in the U.S., mid-2021 looks like a point to reflect upon what went missing over the last year and a half, from the countless lives lost and millions fallen ill, to the shuttered businesses, wasted opportunities, and missed time with family and loved ones. In the world of craft beer, that list includes a year of major anniversaries that largely went unnoticed. While the dates were overshadowed by the growing pandemic from March onward, 2020 should have been a year of celebration for the class of 2010, a nonpareil group of breweries that all opened 10 years earlier. The significance of the craft beer class of 2010 is hard to overstate. While every year sees the appearance of breweries that later become famous, 2010 featured some of the most influential brands of the recent era, including Jester King, Hill Farmstead, Urban Chestnut, Evil Twin, Crooked Stave, Breakside, and more. A Remarkable CadreWhat made 2010 such a big year for craft beer? Possibly the emerging importance of local foodways at the time, according to Jester King Brewery co-founder Jeffrey Stuffings. “I think it kind of dovetails with the movement towards local production of food and drinks, supporting local agriculture, this national consciousness that food doesn’t come from a factory or just a giant industrial farm,” Stuffings says. “That food can be produced locally, sustainably, with quality, and that by supporting something like that, you’re actually doing yourself a favor by opening your eyes to really all these interesting flavors and aromas that are unique to [a] place.” Another key element in 2010: previous pathfinders. Unlike microbreweries and the proto-craft breweries back in the ’80s, ‘90s, and aughts, new breweries opening in 2010 were able to build upon the work of a relatively large group of successful earlier independents, some of whom already had established networks for sales and distribution. The 2010 brewery Mother Earth Brew Co. — named one of VinePair’s best breweries in America in 2019 — got a big hand from earlier producers in California, according to co-founder Kamron Khannakhjavani. “We had the support of other breweries referring customers to us — folks like Stone, Green Flash, and Pizza Port were all pretty integral in our initial success,” Khannakhjavani says. “Phase Two was when we began getting shelf placements in retailers and grew a significant distribution footprint with Stone Distributing. That was the point I would say we ‘made it,’ as the kids say.” Quality Beer, Qualified PeopleUnlike earlier craft brands, the breweries that launched in 2010 were also able to connect with a large group of people who already knew what craft beer was — and not just consumers. At Urban Chestnut Brewing Company, brewmaster Florian Kuplent credits part of his brewery’s success to making lager beers in the lager-loving town of St. Louis, as well as Urban Chestnut’s ability to find great employees. “I would hope it was the good beer that we make that made us successful,” Kuplent says. “We’ve been able to hire some very dedicated and well-qualified people that really have helped to put Urban Chestnut out there and make sure that we produce consistently good beers and consistently do a good job at selling them on a daily basis. That’s been a huge part of our success as well.” Lost PartiesWith breweries from 2010 scattered throughout the country, there’s hardly a corner of America that didn’t miss out on a significant party in 2020. Jester King had hoped to work on a series of events and make an “anniversary tour” of collaboration brews and tastings, Stuffings says, but the pandemic arrived before he was able to make any concrete plans. Hill Farmstead was able to get one early event in under the wire at its site in Vermont, though larger festivals later in the year were canceled. Other 2010 breweries were deep in preparations when lockdown arrived. Mother Earth was in the middle of planning a massive, reggae-themed beer festival called A Decade of Love, Khannakhjavani says. The brewery had already cleared all of its permits, received sign-offs from local law enforcement, and made substantial investments in promoting the party when it became clear that it couldn’t go forward. “We were slated to have 20 breweries, live bands, food trucks, and even a warehouse after-party with a DJ,” Khannakhjavani says. “We were only 30 days out from the day of the event when we had to cancel everything.” With lockdowns happening at different points in different states and regions, some breweries were able to hold an event, often on a smaller scale, despite the pandemic, like the modest party that took place at Crooked Stave, one of the first craft brands to put a focus on brewing with Brettanomyces and wild yeasts. Founded Oct. 30, 2010, the brewery ended up celebrating the date it brewed its first batch of beer, which happened on Jan. 10. “We did in fact hold a 10th anniversary event,” says Chad Yakobson, Crooked Stave’s owner. “It wasn’t what you might expect a 10-year anniversary would be.” Due to an original opening date in February, Chicago’s Revolution Brewing was actually able to put out its 10th anniversary barley wine before lockdown started, founder Josh Deth says, recalling a release party with a distinct “before times” vibe. “We opened up in early in 2010, so we were lucky that we were able to pull off our anniversary plans early in the year,” Deth says. “We released an awesome barrel-aged beer with both sweet and sour cherries called Ten Year Beer. We were able to have a beer release party with folks lining up at the brewery and enjoying the beer onsite.” Looking ForwardWhile some breweries are hoping for a “do-over” on those missed parties from last year, what that means is up in the air. At Urban Chestnut, Kuplent notes that the pandemic is still going on and much is uncertain. Urban Chestnut will likely hold some sort of reduced-size Oktoberfest party at its location in St. Louis this fall, he says, though other events this year are still iffy. A festival in Germany that usually features the brewery’s Bavarian branch has been canceled. “I think whatever didn’t happen in 2020 is most likely going to get pushed into 2022,” Kuplent says. “At this point we don’t really know what kind of festivals we will be able to put on.” Will Mother Earth aim for a 2021 rebirth event? “No, probably not,” Khannakhjavani says. “That was a very disappointing end to a lot of work and planning that I’m not sure we are ready to go through again just yet. Not to mention an 11th anniversary make-up event just doesn’t have the same ring.” Similarly, Jester King isn’t planning to hold replacement events in 2021, Stuffings says, though the farm brewery has added new “Goat Experiences” to its available tours, allowing guests to spend a full hour with its herd of some 40 Nigerian dwarf goats. In many ways, that sense of looking to the future rather than the past seems to be a common characteristic of the craft beer class of 2010. Celebrations are fine and all, but the breweries that broke out in 2010 didn’t get famous because of their parties. Instead, they earned their renown by creating outstanding beer and amazing places to drink it, offering the best brews and the best bars seen in a generation. In South Carolina, Westbrook Brewing Company founder Edward Westbrook says he’s waiting for things to get back to something resembling a pre-pandemic normal: “Nothing major planned for the brewery,” Westbrook says. “Just mainly trying to get back to traveling and doing visits and collabs with friends in the industry.” The article Covid-19 Ruined Their 10th Anniversaries. Now, Craft Beer’s Class of 2010 Looks Forward appeared first on VinePair. Via https://vinepair.com/articles/craft-beer-2010-anniversaries/ Via https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/covid-19-ruined-their-10th-anniversaries-now-craft-beers-class-of-2010-looks-forward
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Look, we love a green drink as much as anyone, but there are some things that just get lost in an electric juicer. One ingredient that should always be juiced by hand is citrus, especially when used in cocktails. For those who order their Martinis “up and with a twist,” you’ve likely wafted that familiar, zesty aroma from the top of your glass. This lemony scent and taste is coaxed across your drink with the help of a thin lemon peel, which bartenders will twist to “express”. In twisting the peel, pros are able to release the essential oils that sit within the lemon’s skin and impart a thin, citrus-forward aroma to your drink. Conversely, when you use an electric juicer, you won’t be able to release those essential oils and may instead accidentally process the pith or rind, which can lead to indigestion. To avoid this, bartenders recommend juicing citrus by hand whenever possible. Another reason why you should always juice your citrus directly into your drink is that citrus can oxidize very quickly, which will change its flavor and alter the core makeup of even the most carefully executed cocktail. Limes are especially notorious for oxidizing quickly, and educators at PATRÓN always advise that bartenders and home mixologists pulverize their citrus directly into their cocktail shaker or mixing glass. Of course, don’t even get us started on bottled citrus juice, which is either riddled with preservatives or apt to fall flat shortly after bottling. Instead, find a trusted handheld manual juicer to use when making all your favorite summer cocktails. Leave scrappy, hand squeezing behind with this perfect citrus juicer. This tool is an easy way to ensure you’re extracting all of the essential oils and pouring the freshest juice into your cocktail. It makes a great gift for any up-and-coming home bartender and is a kitchen staple that every pro should have. Made with durable enameled aluminum this juicer is sure to stand up to all your summery Champagne Cocktail or Margarita needs, so make sure to snatch one up before they sell out! The article Why You Should Never Juice Citrus in an Electric Juicer appeared first on VinePair. Via https://vinepair.com/picks/why-you-should-never-juice-citrus-in-an-electric-juicer/ Via https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/why-you-should-never-juice-citrus-in-an-electric-juicer In the course of a person’s life, there are moments that leave such a powerful impression they can foretell the future. David Baird, head winemaker at Folktale Winery and Vineyards, located in California’s Carmel Valley, recalls such a moment in his own life with exquisite clarity. In 2015, Baird teamed up with entrepreneur Gregory Ahn to open Folktale Winery & Vineyards. Folktale was born out of its mission to create high-quality, innovative, sustainably farmed wines that invite people to have an experience similar to the one Baird had while vacationing in Europe all those years ago. VinePair recently sat down with this award-winning winemaker to discuss sustainability, organics, and the special role wine plays in our lives. [Editor’s note: This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.] When did you realize wine would be your career?After getting back from Europe, I didn’t think much more of the bottle of wine we all shared. It wasn’t until I was getting ready to graduate high school that I had to really consider a career direction. My parents encouraged me to take an aptitude test to at least narrow my focus down, and among the short list of options was winemaking. This was never even a consideration of mine until I got my results from that test, but quickly became something that sounded like it could be a great fit for me. Having grown up in Carmel, I called a local wine producer, Chateau Julien, to shadow their business for the day and see a behind-the-scenes look at what a winemaking career might look like. I fell in love with the idea of being a winemaker at that moment, and have been working towards this career ever since. Tell us a little about your wine journey and how it led you here, to Folktale.I decided to attend Cal Poly in San Luis Obispo for undergrad. It had a great wine program, campus-owned vineyards, and was situated among some of California’s finest grape-growing regions. Midway through college, I took a semester off and did a winemaking internship, the first step towards a winemaking career. Internships, as I quickly learned, are not for the faint of heart. Working six 12- hour days per week was grueling but rewarding, as I had my first opportunity to put many of the learned skills in the classroom to practice. I also got involved in a wine club on campus called Vines to Wines where bimonthly guest speakers in the wine industry would share their experiences with us and offer advice. It was through these connections that I landed a job at Halter Ranch in Paso Robles for nearly a year in various roles in marketing, vineyard management, and winemaking. I graduated college in 2008 at possibly the worst time to be looking for a job as the world had just entered a deep recession. I was extremely fortunate to land a job at Justin Winery, located just down the road from Halter Ranch. In this role, I was a full-time cellar worker and helped make some of the most well-known wines from the emerging Paso Robles AVA. It was a pivotal position for me, as in my six-year tenure I would see the business triple in size, and my role grew along with it. I was later assigned the role of cellar master and managed two new winemaking facilities that were built to produce nearly 100,000 cases of wine, all the while managing a year-round staff of 12 people. It was an opportunity to further develop my skills in all things winemaking, while also coming into my own and figuring out the types of wines I wanted to make. It was with a heavy heart that I decided to follow my passion for cooler-climate grape varieties and took a job as an assistant winemaker at Fess Parker in the Santa Barbara area. At Fess Parker, we worked with some of the most well-known vineyards in the Santa Rita Hills and Santa Ynez Valley and I was able to learn a whole different style of winemaking than how things were done in Paso Robles. After a few years in the SB area, I relocated back to the Monterey Peninsula to be closer to family. It was at a chance lunch meeting that I met Greg Ahn, the future owner of Folktale Winery. He and I connected immediately and he assigned me a marketing role with the hope that he would be soon purchasing a winery in the area. Fate would have it that the winery Greg ended up buying was none other than Chateau Julien, the same one I visited nearly 15 years earlier. Folktale is located in Carmel Valley, which is located on California’s Central Coast. How does the climate and terroir of this Central Coast sub-region affect the taste and quality of the wine you produce at Folktale?The Central Coast has such an amazing mix of rich soils and varied climate, and it’s my job to present that uniqueness in a bottle of wine. Where exactly we’re getting grapes from plays a huge role in how that bottle of wine will taste. One unique thing about the Central Coast is the variety of grapes that can be grown, mainly due to climate alone. We have cold regions near the coast, and hot regions inland. Planting grapes in different areas can present flavors that are completely different from one another. You also need to consider where the vineyard itself is located and how it’s being farmed. In general, Pinot Noirs from the Santa Lucia Highlands are earthy, and have some beautiful red fruit characteristics that I just love. White wine varieties do great in our sandy valley floor where they express aroma and have a wonderful balance of acidity. Folktale is fully committed to organic, sustainable farming and winemaking practices. Why does this matter to you?I think it’s easy to look at short-term farming and use conventional pesticides these days. Convenience and pricing make this a no-brainer for many landowners, and I can’t blame them. That being said, wine is a product of what we’re putting into it. We can’t talk all about terroir and climate and not about pesticides. They have residue that inevitably gets on the grape and into the wine. When a vineyard doesn’t use organic pesticides or even weed or rodent control, those residues get into the ecosystem around us. Do you think organic farming makes for better-tasting wine?I do. I have tasted wines produced from side-by-side vineyards, made by the same producer and have preferred the wine from the organic vineyard. In the fall, I taste lots of grapes in many vineyards to decide when to harvest, and can always tell what is organic versus not, just based on the taste of the grapes. Organic grape growing is much more expensive than “conventional” farming practices, so some wineries prefer to save money. For whatever reason, consumers haven’t really gotten behind buying wine made from organic grapes like they have when shopping in the produce department of the grocery store. Another confusing element for consumers is the difference between organic wine and wine made from organic grapes. Both use organic ingredients, but organic wine uses a very small amount of sulfur dioxide to preserve wine and keep it from oxidizing. You often see this in a small natural wine shop, but not your local chain grocery store. Wine can be pretty magical. What do you think is so special about wine and its ability to bring people together and elevate a meal?Wine is all about experience. You can have a cheap bottle of wine in an amazing setting among loved ones and it’s right up there with giving birth to your first kid. Conversely, great bottles of wine don’t always make the moment memorable. Wine evolves. It sparks conversation. It evokes emotion, and it’s this combination of things that adds up to a magical experience. What do you want people to know about wine that you think they may not know?Winemaking is just as romantic as it is hard work. It takes a ton of effort to make a bottle of wine, and countless decisions to make it taste like it does. But the motivation for me lies in creativity and being able to produce something I’m passionate about. New projects are always fun, and seeing the fruits of your labor is so rewarding. Folktale was inspired by the idea that “in every great bottle of wine, there is a story.” What does that mean to you and how does it inform your creative process when producing a wine? If you weren’t making wine for a living, what would you be doing?Landscape architecture. I love gardening, plants, and design, and it just sounds like so much fun! The article For Folktale Winery’s David Baird, Organic Grapes Make for Better Wine appeared first on VinePair. Via https://vinepair.com/articles/folktale-winery-david-baird/ Via https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/for-folktale-winerys-david-baird-organic-grapes-make-for-better-wine The hazy IPA is the beer craze that just won’t quit. Despite brewers saying they are getting tired of brewing these beers, the public is definitely not tired of drinking them. And it’s easy to see why — hazy IPAs are bright, pillowy, full of citrus flavors from copious hopping methods, and overall, delicious. It’s an approachable style that is bringing even more drinkers into the IPA category. For the most part, if you’re lactose intolerant, you are fine to drink these hazy brews. Just make sure before you do that they weren’t brewed with lactose, otherwise known as milk sugar. Lactose, or milk sugar, is often added to hazy IPAs to enhance the body and mouthfeel of the liquid, as well as its sweetness. It’s what often gives the beer its characteristic creamy texture that has become synonymous with the style. Lactose also serves to help mask the higher gravity that many of these beers come in at, with added sweetness causing your brain to perceive less of the alcohol than is present. But if you have a lactose intolerance, avoiding beers that have been brewed with milk sugar is a good idea because while most sugar is converted to alcohol during the brewing process, lactose is not. As an unfermentable sugar, lactose will remain in the finished beer, and depending on how severe your allergy is, it may not make you feel that great. And by the way, don’t assume that only hazy IPAs sometimes utilize lactose. Milk stouts are actually some of the first beers in the craft beer world to play around with this ingredient, so if you have an allergy, it’s always a good idea to ask what’s in your beer before you drink it. The article Ask Adam: Can I Drink Hazy IPA if I’m Lactose Intolerant? appeared first on VinePair. Via https://vinepair.com/articles/hazy-ipa-lactose-intolerant/ Via https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/ask-adam-can-i-drink-hazy-ipa-if-im-lactose-intolerant On this episode of “Next Round,” host Zach Geballe chats with Ron Cooper, founder of Del Maguey mezcal. Cooper discusses his journey in creating one of the early players in the mezcal space, which began with a life-changing trip to Oaxaca in 1986, where he tried mezcal for the very first time. Mezcal’s rising popularity, as well as Cooper’s adoration for the spirit, prompted him to found Del Maguey in 1995. The popular brand is now known for offering single-village expressions of mezcal, which Cooper says enables small producers and their families to thrive. Curious to browse Del Maguey’s lineup? Learn more at delmaguey.com. Listen OnlineOr Check out the Conversation HereZach Geballe: From Seattle, Wash., I’m Zach Geballe, and this is a “VinePair Podcast,” “Next Round” conversation. We’re bringing you these episodes in between our regular podcasts so that we can explore a range of issues and stories in the drinks world. And today, I’ve got the pleasure of speaking with Ron Cooper, the founder of Del Maguey. Ron, thanks so much for your time. Ron Cooper: Hey, Zach, it’s great to be on air with you, and thanks to VinePair. Z: I can’t start anywhere but with this question: What were some of your first experiences with mezcal, if you remember them, I guess? R: Oh, I do. I was fortunate to grow up in Southern California in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s. I was there through ’82. However, during that time, life in Southern California, our nearest neighbor was Mexico. As an art student about to graduate, a group of us went down to Baja California in Ensenada, and we went to Hussong’s Cantina and we camped on the beach for five days. I had the opportunity to sip a not-very-good mezcal, but it was smoky and interesting. Each day for five days, I went back, and that was my preferred sipping. That was even before I tasted tequila. After that, I kept going back to Baja, camping out in these beautiful bays, and we would always bring back a bottle of some not-so-good mezcal to Southern California and share it with friends. Those were my earliest experiences. Z: And when you were bringing it back to Southern California, were the people around you even at all aware of what mezcal was? Or was it basically, “Here, just drink this?” R: Well, I’m not going to mention any brand names, but everyone’s reaction was slapping their forehead and going, “Oh, my God, I had that when I was in college. I can’t tell you how bad I was hung over.” That was the reaction, except for a few cool people that were into drinking good wine and began to explore different spirits. It was a unique spirit, and everyone wanted to try it. Z: OK, so you have this experience earlier on in your life. You probably remain interested or are at least a consumer of mezcal. At what point does it go from being a thing that you enjoy drinking, to “Here’s a business I want to take on?” Was there anything, in particular, that prompted that? R: Absolutely. In 1986, some art patron friends took myself and my wife on a trip down to Mexico City, Puebla, and Oaxaca. I led the trip because I had driven down in the early ‘70s from L.A. to Panama and found Mexico to be really interesting. We went to drink pulque in Mexico City and in Puebla, but when we got to Oaxaca, we were stopped by the Federales at a checkpoint. “What are you doing here? Where are you going? We’re protecting you. Is this taxi safe, or are you kidnapped?” “No, no, no, no. We’re here to drink a little mezcal and celebrate New Year’s.” They replied, “Mezcal?! My uncle makes mezcal in the mountains.” I said, “Really, can I get some?” He said, “Yeah, he’s coming down tomorrow with some liters. If you come back, I’ll have some for you.” Well, it was mind-blowing. It was so different from the earlier stuff that I had ever tasted. It was just incredible, so I bought a couple liters. I brought it home and I started tasting it with friends. Everyone went crazy for it. The chef, Mark Miller, who started Coyote Cafe and Southwest cuisine, said, “Man, when can you bring some more of this in? I want it on my back bar.” Steve Wallace, who is a great wine and spirits purveyor in L.A., did the same thing. He said, “Man, this is really something. You ought to bring this in.” In 1990, after I had a couple great successes with large bronze commissions, I had a lot of money that I could afford to go anywhere I wanted to go. The first thing in my head was Japan. Well, then this little voice said, “No, no, no, no, you’re going to Oaxaca. You’re going to make art with local artisans.” And when I was there, I went out every three days for three months out to the dirt roads, and I asked people, where’s the best? Donde esta mejor? They pointed their fingers and I couldn’t understand Zapotec, but I just drove patiently down a dirt road with no signs until I saw a big grinding wheel out in the field. And I’d asked the farmer, “How do you do this?” Invariably, they would come back with an empty Coke bottle, brandy bottle, or rum bottle, and they’d fill it with their mezcal. I brought it back, and my friends in Oaxaca, the weavers I was working with, would go, “Where did you get that?” It was jaw-dropping. When I crossed the border to come back to the U.S., I had a 5-gallon wedding mezcal and a big bamboo basket on the side of my truck. The Texas official says, “You can’t bring that in here.” And I went, “What? I’ll pay any duty.” They said, “No, no, no, a U.S. citizen is allowed 1 liter to cross the border.” I had to pour out the majority of this 5-gallon super wedding mezcal from Chichicapa, tearfully. I decided right then and there, no one would ever tell me I couldn’t bring mezcal into the United States. In order to make it available for me and my friends, I had to get a license to export from Mexico and a license to import into the U.S., and I did. Z: With this early part of the story that I’ve read about, I think there’s a certain romanticism of this idea of exploring and finding the best mezcal. However, when it came time to bring that into the U.S. and start, frankly, trying to explain it to consumers — as you said before, there were some well-placed people who understood the appeal. How did you even explain the product? How did you set it apart from, as you described, people’s college hangover experiences? What was that early messaging like? R: I’ll tell you in a second, but I think it’s time for us to have a little sip together. What do you think? Z: Oh, I’ll be honest, Ron. I had already started, but I’m with it. R: I’m pouring a little bit of Las Milpas. A mezcal from the San Dionisio Ocotepec region in a place which is just a rancho out in the country, and it’s called The Cornfields. So here’s to you and everyone listening. Z: Cheers. R: All right, so how did I explain it? Well, the first thing that happened was when I got back in 1990, Steve Wallace brought a writer who had just returned from Poland, writing and studying the vodkas of Poland. Steve Wallace came out from L.A. with his girlfriend and this writer, and we spent two days sipping through 28 different single-village mezcals that I had brought back and collected during this time. Fortunately for me, the 5-gallon wedding mezcal was a sacrifice, and it saved me from the customs officials going through the back of my pickup with three months’ of art, pottery, sculpture, weaving, furniture, just a load of stuff that I had accumulated. And these other 28 samples were all down, buried safely underneath a bunch of stuff, so we spent two days tasting. And of course these guys spread the word to their friends that they had this incredible experience of never before tasted single-village mezcals. When I actually started to travel to different states and hook up with different distributors, they would take me into a bar or restaurant, and I always found that chefs had the palate that immediately realized what this was, how unique this was. And then bartenders. I started with chefs and then migrated to bartenders and — oh, there are some funny stories, but I don’t want to take up all your time. Z: Well, one story would be quite welcome, if you have just one. R: All right. St. Louis, Missouri. A young salesperson takes me to a restaurant and bar. The owner comes up to the front of the bar. I have a bag with three or four different mezcals, wonderful woven palm fiber baskets, and little sippy cups. And he takes one look at this stuff and he says, “I’m not going to taste that.” And he goes, “Hey, Juan!” He shouts back to the kitchen and Juan, the dishwasher, comes out, and he goes, “Juan, taste this.” Juan sips it and goes, “Oh, mezcal. I don’t like mezcal. I like tequila.” And then people started hearing about it. Sommeliers, like yourself, started spreading the word. Jimmy Yeager in Aspen invited me in 1998 to my first Aspen Food and Wine Classic, which was international. We had a table and I was pouring mezcal. People were sipping it and going, “Oh my God, this is incredible.” I’ve done 20 years of Aspen Food and Wine Classic. Also, Jimmy Yeager immediately made mezcal front and center on his bar. My buddy Steve Olson, under the table, everywhere he went, carried a flask of Tobala with him, and he did wine education and spirits education. But the word got out and everyone knew that he would go outside, take a break, have a sip from this magic flask, and everyone started following it. So Steve Olson, a.k.a. wine geek, now a.k.a. Maguey geek, was huge in terms of turning people on. That was it. Z: Gotcha. I definitely understand how that word of mouth and testimonials from professionals helped pave the way. Now, you talk about mezcal to people after a number of years of it being more and more understood, more and more widely available, with a lot more brands and producers available in the states. When you talk about mezcal to people in the trade or to consumers, is it a different conversation than it was 20 years ago? R: Oh, there are so many people that are knowledgeable about mezcal now. It’s incredible. I think the worm is dead. I think I killed the worm. And then mezcal used to be misspelled as “mescal” because of the Webster dictionary. I think I’ve cured that, too, and spelled it properly with a z. There’s so much education, so much experience, so many other people actually bringing good mezcal to the U.S. or to the world, to Europe, Asia, and Australia. It’s amazing, so I really don’t have to convince anybody that mezcal is worth sipping anymore. Z: The thing that you mentioned before is that Del Maguey has always been, I think, in large part focused on some of these single-village expressions. Was that always the idea as opposed to, perhaps, individual species of agave? Or both? I don’t know, I guess I think about the ways you can classify mezcal in a couple of different directions. Is it just that the villages were the places you were visiting, and that made the most sense as to how you organized the portfolio, I guess? R: Well, there’s a famous Mexican dicho, or saying, that you don’t find mezcal, mezcal finds you. What I’m most proud of is enabling these small, single-village producers and their families. They are so proud of their tradition of their fathers and their grandfathers and their great-grandfathers, their ancestors. And when I started, mezcal really didn’t leave the villages. It was just made for rituals, births, funerals, weddings, and feast days. They don’t drink cocktails. They drink during fiestas. They sip during fiestas. If you happen to drink a lot and get pretty loaded, they consider it getting closer to the gods. For the first 17 years, I personally paid for the honor of being in this deep traditional culture, and then it started paying me back. Basically, just being able to be with these people and participate in their fiestas and in their cultures and to watch them when I just had a little money, utilize that money. I never told anyone what to do with it, but they knew exactly what they wanted to do, and I’ve watched these families benefit in a gigantic way. Bringing sons back from the U.S. from picking grapes or roofing, to actually become great mezcal producers, palenqueros themselves. In the most remote village of Santo Domingo Albarradas, Esperidon sent two daughters down to Oaxaca to the capital. One daughter shopped and kept house for the other daughter who went to college and became the first college graduate, the first woman attorney ever in this village. The first high school graduate in this village. So just enabling these people and watching them develop has been miraculous for me. It’s been just a beautiful, beautiful experience. Z: Very cool. And I’m curious to you, one last question for you Ron, if you don’t mind. I’m wondering, as you look back and then look forward, do you see there is a continued interest and growth in mezcal? Do you see it as more — as I see it — these very special, very distinctive, and unique expressions of place and the agave plants themselves? What do you see going forward? R: The majority of the positive is small people getting involved and sharing. Bringing out wonderful varietals, wonderful expressions, because there are so many different varieties. The hand of the maker is huge. Altitude and terroir are important as well. The vocabulary of mezcal is closest to good wine. I think that is the future. It’s never going to slow down. There are regions where the denomination of origin is not allowed just because of politics. There are so many small producers, I think that will eventually find its way to be justified so that everyone has the ability to export and share. Then there’s the other end, which is giant corporations and famous people jumping in, just getting a brand and not knowing really what this is all about. We made a partnership four years ago with Pernod Ricard, because they were powerful enough to help us preserve the tradition and culture of mezcal. That’s where we’re at. We’re just continuing. I’m going back down in June with our team, and there are a couple of places that I forgot to go up the river, go up to the dirt road. I had tasted this unbelievable mezcal in a little store on a Sunday morning down in a gully on the way to Miahuatlàn. And I got to go up that road because it’s been 26 years, but I have to go up that road and see who that is that was making that flavor. Taste memory is amazing, and you never forget a good taste. Z: Well, I think that’s really inspiring. I’m glad that you still feel that there are things to explore and discover. It continues to feed the whole romance and the notion of mezcal and this category that those of us who maybe don’t get to travel to Oaxaca all that often, or ever, can still explore through these bottles. Well, Ron, thank you so much for your time. Really appreciate it. Pleasure hearing from you about this story. And I look forward to seeing what you find up those rivers and roads as you continue to travel. R: I’ll tell you what, if I find anything new on this trip in June, Zach, you’ll get an empty Coke bottle full of it. Z: Oh, perfect. I love that idea. That’s fantastic, thank you. R: Thank you. Thanks so much for listening to the “VinePair Podcast.” If you love this show as much as we love making it, then please give us a rating or review on iTunes, Spotify, Stitcher or wherever it is you get your podcasts. It really helps everyone else discover the show. Now for the credits. “VinePair” is produced and recorded in New York City and in Seattle, Wash., by myself and Zach Geballe, who does all the editing and loves to get the credit. Also, I would love to give a special shout-out to my VinePair co-founder, Josh Malin, for helping make all this possible and also to Keith Beavers, VinePair tasting director, who is additionally a producer on the show. I also want to, of course, thank every other member of the VinePair team who are instrumental in all of the ideas that go into making the show every week. Thanks so much for listening, and we’ll see you again. The article Next Round: Exploring the Origins of Del Maguey Mezcal with Ron Cooper appeared first on VinePair. Via https://vinepair.com/articles/next-round-ron-cooper-del-maguey-mezcal/ Via https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/next-round-exploring-the-origins-of-del-maguey-mezcal-with-ron-cooper What happens when red grapes are grown in the higher altitudes and cooler climates of Austria? This week we taste Austrian Zweigelt. Wine Folly - Learn about wine. Via https://winefolly.com/tips/tasting-challenge-austrian-zweigelt/ Via https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/tasting-challenge-austrian-zweigelt6530886 Digestifs are after-dinner drinks with purpose. These somewhat magical sippers — equipped with flavors fluctuating from familiar to funky — aid in digestion after a large meal, making them the ideal counterpart to the appetite-stimulating beverages known as aperitifs. Initially whipped up by the ancient Greeks, digestifs were chiefly considered medical cure-alls until the 18th century, when Europeans began serving them to cap massive multi-course feasts. It has taken a while for the category to click stateside, as Americans don’t usually do big blowout dinners on non-holidays, but a growing interest from curious imbibers raised their profile in recent years. That’s because a good digestif can be delicious as all get out, and the category’s robust, intense flavor profile fuels its reputation for being the bartender’s friend — either on its own or in a cocktail. But digestifs can also be mystifying, and not just because they can help ease the consequences of gluttony in the flick of a wrist. But as any bartender or amaro geek will tell you, it’s a mystery well worth solving. When you decide to take the plunge into digestifs, here are a few things you should know. A Broad CategoryDigestifs carry two main characteristics: intense herbal or spicy qualities and a varying degree of bitterness. This allows the term to encompass a broad spectrum of libations. Some make up separate spirit categories on their own, such as Cognac, brandy, aquavit, and vermouth. Other spirits that fit under digestifs’ wide umbrella are herbaceous liqueurs known by brand name, like Chartreuse, Benedictine, and the potable of frat parties everywhere, Jägermeister. Digestifs formerly carried a third quality: A decade ago, they were almost always European in origin. Not anymore. A growing number of American distilleries produce digestifs these days, and they’ve expanded the category even further by experimenting with locally sourced botanicals like California poppy. “We don’t want to re-do the traditional digestifs. They’re great and you need to respect them,” explains Dan Oskey, co-founder of Tattersall Distilling, a Minneapolis-based producer cranking out a wide range of digestifs. “However, we do want to build on tradition and add to the categorical experience.” If the category feels overwhelming, don’t fret. It can be simplified by focusing on the king of digestifs, amaro. The low-proof, botanical-driven Italian liqueur is such a popular source of liquid enrapture for aficionados, the word amaro is sometimes used to represent the whole digestif category. It’s also a favorite among bar professionals.“A beautiful glass of amaro is sexy,” says Stephanie Andrews, general manager of Billy Sunday and Spindle Bar in Charlotte, N.C. “Amaro sometimes has this reputation for being a bitter blowout, but that’s not true. A good amaro will have a lot of layers, nuance, and delicate beauty going on.” Here Comes the ScienceConsuming digestifs is as safe as imbibing any other spirit, but the human body perceives them as a potential threat. There’s a reason for this. Our physiological design naturally equates digestifs’ bitter taste with poison. This causes an internal freak-out that kicks the digestive system into high gear in the hope that whatever’s been ingested gets expunged pronto. This process continues even as we grow accustomed to enjoying amari and other digestifs. “We’re naturally trained to avoid bitter things,” explains Tad Carducci, director of outreach and engagement at Amaro Montenegro. “Even if given in small doses like you get with a digestif, the body will still prepare to flush it out of the digestive system quickly just in case.” When this urgent reaction occurs, any food stuck in your stomach inadvertently breaks down with greater efficiency, a bonus that lightens your digestive burden and can restore your interest in eating again someday. It’s a cool case of science in action, but it’s also one spread strictly by word of mouth; touting digestive assistance on a bottle of alcohol is a big legal no-no. How to Enjoy ThemIt’s entirely possible to be simultaneously curious and intimidated by digestifs. If you’re in this conundrum, consider ordering a cocktail so you can gently familiarize yourself with their complex properties. Some drinks like the Vieux Carré land into the digestif category by themselves. Others riff on familiar cocktails; the Black Manhattan and Toronot are amari-infused spins on the Manhattan and the Old Fashioned, respectively. For those looking to try digestifs on their own, a gentle introduction to the category is vital.“It’s important to gently coax guests along if they’re not familiar with digestifs,” says Sother Teague, beverage director at Amor Y Amargo in NYC. “Rushing people through this discovery does a big disservice to them as well as the category.” Slightly bittersweet amari such as Amaro Montenegro or Cynar make tremendous entry points to digestifs, since their bitter qualities land slightly softer on the palate. Digestifs packing sharp, intense flavors like Chartreuse or Fernet-Branca are best explored after gaining experience. This journey from beginner to advanced should be taken at a strictly individualized pace. “There are times when two people come to my bar, and one’s excited to be here and the other’s tagging along,” Teague says. “If I see the excited one trying to convince the novice they have to try this advanced brand, I’ll gently remind them that they probably didn’t start their appreciation of the spirit at that level.” Once you get into digestifs, prepare to spend the rest of your drinking days discovering new flavors and expressions. A seemingly infinite combination of herbs, spices, and botanicals can come together to form a liquid supergroup poised to entice your senses and put your belly at ease. You’ll be compelled to keep exploring — even on an empty stomach. The article Digestifs: What They Are, How They Work, and How They Are Enjoyed appeared first on VinePair. Via https://vinepair.com/articles/digestifs-explained/ Via https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/digestifs-what-they-are-how-they-work-and-how-they-are-enjoyed Introduction Unless you are planning to drink directly from the bottle, investing in a wine glass or two may be a good idea. Sure, you ... The post Wine Glass Recommendations appeared first on Wine School of Philadelphia. Via https://www.vinology.com/wine-glasses/ Via https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/wine-glass-recommendations It’s the turn of the century, and you’re at SeaWorld San Diego, a sprawling complex of saltwater semi-captivity that Anheuser-Busch, the country’s largest beer company, has owned for the past decade. But you don’t care about who owns the place. You’re just there because some guy who works for a beer brand you’ve barely heard of invited you and 300 other 21- to 25-year-olds to the compound to see some dolphins and drink some free suds. Is it weird that he hired a limo to drive you and a bunch of strangers to SeaWorld? Kind of, but hey — it’s Y2K, baby! Anything goes! “At the time, there’s no such thing as Uber, so from a liability standpoint, we had to pick them up and drop them off. … We got like every taxi in town — buses, limos, whatever was available — to take these people back and forth,” says Edmundo Macias, Tequiza’s former brand manager. “We said let’s throw a big party, and there’s gonna be free Tequiza.” Introduced in 1997 to ride the first wave of American tequila curiosity and protect St. Louis’s flank from growing threats from imports and spirits, Tequiza was A-B’s hottest new product launch of the ‘90s, rolling out con gusto across the American South and West to solid early sales. A Brandweek article from February 2000 that Macias shared with VinePair proclaimed that “Tequiza was launched cheap by A-B standards and already has eclipsed No.1 craft beer brand Sam Adams in volume, putting it well on the way to 1 million barrels.” But that was then. The brand never hit a million barrels, and never gained any sustained traction with American drinkers. Tequiza limped along for another decade or so until A-B — which by then had been reconstituted as Anheuser-Busch InBev — retired the beer from its rotation for good. What happened to Tequiza? It’s a classic tale of cross-segment ambition, dubious distributors, and flagship fealty. But even though the beer itself has long since hit the trail, Tequiza’s liquid legacy helped spawn the flavored malt beverage boom currently remaking the American drinking landscape. “It was ahead of its time,” says Gerry Khermousch, the former Brandweek editor, who has covered the beer and non-alcoholic beverage industries for decades. But what a time it was. Here’s how it all went down. Blending trends: tequila & cervezaSome beers are borne of centuries of tradition, of closely held recipes, of many generations of brewers learning from those who came before. Tequiza’s origin story, on the other hand, is entirely contained in its awkwardly bilingual portmanteau of a name. The beer was a drinkable embodiment of a couple contemporary trends A-B hoped to tap into:
Both strategies represented A-B playing defense — or more charitably, insurance — with its market might. Categories in the late ‘90s were much more segregated than they are today, and losing a lifelong beer drinker to full-proof spirits was anathema to a company like A-B. But peeling them away from booze was tougher, too, recalls Tim Schoen, a three-decade Anheuser-Busch marketing veteran who worked on Tequiza, among other brands. “Back then the specific target was spirits drinkers. The spirits category was encroaching on the beer category and so [Tequiza] was certainly trying to attract some of those potential lost [beer] customers, the ones that [were] looking elsewhere.” “Interest in hard liquor was starting to be resurgent,” echoes Colleen Beckemeyer. As A-B’s director of new products through the ‘90s, she oversaw the launch of Tequiza. “Maybe tequila wasn’t the most upscale option for the hardcore liquor drinkers, but it did have its footprint in the Southwest. For that reason, I think it was kind of interesting to us,” she says. To American drinkers, tequila was also interesting, period. The spirit was strong, far-flung yet available, and retained remarkable pop-cultural prominence before, during, and after Tequiza’s release. Consider:
But while the agave distillate was some cause for concern, Tequiza’s bigger bogey was Mexican beer, and one brand in particular. “This was developed to try to compete with Corona,” says Macias, who worked for Beckemeyer on Tequiza’s rollout. “That was the genesis of the brand.” Chasing CoronaThe competition would be fierce. In 1998, Corona overtook Heineken as the U.S.’s best-selling import beer. “In less than a decade, Corona’s manufacturer, Grupo Modelo S.A. de C.V., has transformed a once-obscure Mexican beer into a global brand whose name recognition — if not its sales — approaches that of Coca-Cola and Marlboro cigarettes,” The New York Times noted the following year. Corona, with its endless-summer attitude, primo painted label, and iconic clear glass bottle, was a big deal in the U.S. beer business, and marked a tectonic shift in drinkers’ attention toward the southern border. “Corona was a sensation, there’s no question about it,” says Benj Steinman, publisher of the long-running trade publication Beer Marketer’s Insights (BMI), “and it was strongest in the biggest market, California. A-B in the ‘90s was 50 share of the [beer] market in California. … They saw it as a problem.” William Knoedelseder, in his best-seller about the Busch family, “Bitter Brew,” reported that by 1991, A-B’s own internal research showed that Budweiser was slipping among “contemporary adult drinkers … who were turning to upstart American microbrew brands such as Samuel Adams and imports like Corona Extra.” Despite the runaway success of Bud Light — which had been introduced in 1982 and was, by the mid-90s, neck-and-neck with nemesis Miller Lite for America’s overall best-selling beer — drinkers’ excitement for the Mexican “vacation in a bottle” was enough to spur a response from A-B. The response was Tequiza. By the time Macias moved from A-B’s Hispanic marketing team to new products in 1998, the Tequiza experiment was already rolling. Both he and Beckemeyer say the liquid itself was developed by A-B brewer Jill Vaughn, who incorporated agave nectar and actual tequila into the brew at A-B’s St. Louis pilot brewery. “She really was able to help bridge the brewing and the marketing” considerations for Tequiza, says Beckemeyer. (Vaughn no longer works for the company and did not respond to messages sent via social media.) Maybe even more calculated than the liquid itself was the vessel that it would be sold in: 12-ounce clear-glass longnecks, Corona-style. “Corona owned clear glass, and they still do, to a certain extent,” says Schoen. Selling Tequiza in similar packaging, with a similar, bold yellow color scheme, was a way to get customers keen on A-B’s would-be Corona counterpoint. “The clear bottle was really the standard, and we didn’t necessarily want to deviate from that,” says Beckemeyer of the decision. Selling sweetnessBut was it ever any good? Opinions differ on this front. “The product was great,” says Schoen. Macias remembers early iterations being too sweet, something he believes hamstrung the offering among male consumers, and the brew was reformulated at least once after complaints of sweetness from rank-and-file drinkers. “I remember the first test market was someplace in Texas,” said Beckemeyer. “I was out and we were having a first batch, and it was terrible. It was so sweet. So we went back to the drawing board and made it less sweet.” A canvass of review forums suggests Tequiza was, at best, a polarizing option among American drinkers. The beer boasts an impressive all-time rating of 0 on RateBeer.com, and a score of 50 (“Awful”) on BeerAdvocate. It’s hard to say how many of those reviews came from people who’d actually tasted the beer, though, and the brand clearly had some fans. When news of its discontinuation hit the internet, real Tequiza heads made their distress known. “The only beer my dad has ever liked was Tequiza, which is now out of business. Any recommendations of something similar?” queried one redditor in 2012. Regardless, Tequiza’s national debut in 1999 predated the heyday of user-generated review forums like RateBeer and BeerAdvocate. Traditional advertising, marketing, and distribution still held serious sway over the average supermarket shopper looking for a 6-pack. “We had initial success right out the gate, and what we kept hearing was, ‘I don’t normally drink beer but I would drink this,’” says Macias, adding that that feedback mostly came from women. The team rolled the beer out with the print and billboard ads with the slogan “Give it a shot” to suggest full-proof braggadocio, plus a radio spot featuring a riff on The Champs’ horn-heavy 1958 classic, “Tequila.” The ads may have helped, though Macias believes that A-B never gave Tequiza enough money to really give the brand a fighting chance with more sustained marketing or a costly TV commercial. Marketing for A-B’s new products all came from a shared budget, so “if you’re spending that money on Tequiza, that means you’re not going to [be able to] spend money on other innovations,” he says. And with no obvious ties to the firm’s flagships, A-B had no obligation to throw money at Tequiza’s post-launch performance. If it did well on a shoestring, great. If not, the company could cut bait without damaging the aura of its portfolio champions. “If it was part of the Bud Light family, or Budweiser, or even Michelob at that point, it would have had a separate, sizable budget,” speculates Macias. (A spokesperson for Anheuser-Busch InBev, Lacey Clifford, says the company today doesn’t employ any “relevant spokespeople who could discuss [Tequiza] in any kind of detail.”) But more than anything, Tequiza — or any beer in any macrobrewers’ U.S. portfolio, really — needed buy-in from drinkers to succeed. And to get in front of drinkers at retail, it needed support from distributors. A-B’s much-ballyhooed, nominally independent wholesaler network was the envy of the industry in 1999, and it went to work in service of St. Louis’s latest creation. “They blasted [Tequiza] out, like they often are able to do with that distribution system,” says Steinman. “That just really [got] the product out immediately and everywhere.” Wholesalers aligned with A-B were thirsty for a beer to offer retailers fielding increased demand for Corona. They didn’t have rights to distribute actual Corona in the U.S. at the time (particularly vexing given that A-B then owned 50 percent of the brand’s parent company, Grupo Modelo) but how about this product that looks like it, and has real imported agave and tequila in it to boot? According to BMI’s internal figures, Tequiza sold 570,000 barrels in 1999 — a respectable national debut. “That’s pretty good,” allows Steinman. But Macias knew it wasn’t enough to secure Tequiza a permanent spot in A-B’s portfolio. “A lot of smaller companies would love to have 600,000 barrels … but we [Anheuser-Busch] spill more than that,” he says. Tequiza’s agave-based sweetness was holding it back from popularity with male drinkers, a vital cohort. “As I’d sit in these focus groups, especially with males, they would say, ‘It’s too sweet, not enough tequila taste, and we [want] something with higher alcohol.’” (Hence the SeaWorld San Diego mission: a mass taste-test to gauge the popularity of three different Tequiza formulas, each with a varying amount of agave sweetener.) In a bid to convince hard-drinking American dudes to, as the slogan said, “give it a shot,” Macias pitched the idea for Tequiza Extra — higher alcohol, less sweetness, and a black label that didn’t even mention agave. “It looked almost like a Cuervo bottle, the fonts were similar,” says the one-time brand manager, who these days works for a San Antonio spice company, Twang, that back in the day had provided flavored salt packets for Tequiza’s launch. “I thought it had all the potential in the world, but when we introduced it at one of the big distributor conventions, we kept hearing the distributors [say] ‘that’s not something I would drink.’” “That basically killed the brand,” he concludes. But Steinman is skeptical. “If the distributors weren’t signing up for repeats, that’s because the consumer wasn’t really signing up for repeats,” he says, adding that the fact that A-B never sprung for Tequiza TV ads was “not dispositive” of its eventual failure, either. In other words: If people wanted to drink Tequiza, wholesalers would have kept ordering more, regardless of whether it was on TV or what they personally thought of it. Schoen offers another important bit of context. “There was one reason [Tequiza] didn’t work at the time, and that reason is very simple: Bud Light growth,” he says. Between 1990 and 2000, A-B went from producing over 11 million barrels of its flagship light adjunct lager to over 31 million barrels, per “Brewing Industry” by Victor J. and Carol Horton Tremblay. (The economic reference text opted not to even bother with Tequiza’s category, known then as “phantom specialty,” because it was too small to merit mention, and “malt-alternatives are not close substitutes for beer.”) “It was on just an incredible run, so [Tequiza] got what we’ll call ‘mixed’ distributor support and execution. There were so many other things [wholesalers] were doing” at that time that Tequiza simply wasn’t as much of a priority, remembers Schoen. “I don’t know if wholesalers lost interest or consumers lost interest, but for whatever reason, there just wasn’t as much interest,” says Beckemeyer. Why dwell on Tequiza? A-B had the Bud Light juggernaut; the first craft beer boom was busting; and products like “Doc” Otis’ Hard Lemon malt beverage were testing well with consumers. “We [weren’t] going to fight a tidal wave,” she explains. And so Tequiza was swept away. The brand was still available in select markets until 2009, but it was effectively “gone by 2005,” says Steinman. The Tequiza legacyTequiza’s short life wasn’t particularly glamorous — unless you count radio ads and SeaWorld glamorous — but it wasn’t totally pointless, either. Tequiza’s legacy, to the extent that it left one, can be traced in the products A-B and ABI pursued once it was gone. After unceremoniously laying the brand to rest, A-B leaned more heavily into flavored beers. In 2006, A-B released Shock Top, brewed with orange and lemon peel; in 2009, Bud Light Lime (a “significant new entry” for its time, says Steinman); and in 2012, Bud Light Lime-A-Ritas, full-blown fruited FMBs. Vaughn herself was involved in the development of nearly all of them. Tequiza made A-B “more comfortable with the [idea of] introducing flavors to a beer,” says Beckemeyer. “That was a foreign idea at the time.” With the benefit of hindsight, Tequiza, like Coors’ Zima, another contemporary FMB punchline/product, could be seen as a premonition of American drinkers’ recent thirst for FMBs, canned cocktails, and perceived “better for you” ingredients. Schoen (whose current firm, BrewHub, works with several clients that use agave in their products, with more on the way) points to the red-hot popularity of the loosely defined Ranch Water category as an indication that A-B’s agave-infused failure was the right idea at the wrong time. In its day, Tequiza “just wasn’t big enough to make it sustainable,” he says. “But I would argue that if someone had it out there today, it would have been a hell of an entry.” The article Tequiza Sunset: A History of Anheuser-Busch’s Agave-Infused Corona Killer That Wasn’t appeared first on VinePair. Via https://vinepair.com/articles/tequiza-agave-infused-ber/ Via https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/tequiza-sunset-a-history-of-anheuser-buschs-agave-infused-corona-killer-that-wasnt Just outside the town of Tequila sits La Cofradía distillery, home of Casa Noble Tequila, among many others. Tequila production there traces as far back as the mid-1700s, making it one of the oldest distilleries of premium 100 percent Blue Weber agave tequila. By 1800, it reached its daily production capacity of 10 66-liter barrels. Today, La Cofradía distillery grows close to 1 million agave plants exclusively for Casa Noble. Founded in the 1990s by Jose “Pepe” Hermosillo, Casa Noble was inspired by the long history of tequila-making that came before it. With its triple-distillation process, small-batch production, and unique offerings, there’s still plenty to know about this relatively young brand. Read further for 10 things you should know about Casa Noble Tequila. All Agave Is Grown On SiteProduction is a tight circle at Casa Noble. There are approximately 3,000 acres of estate-grown agave on site, which produces 150,000 liters of tequila every year. Limiting the need to move the agave from distant areas decreases transportation costs and allows for quality levels to remain consistent. Production Takes a WhileMost distilleries will bulk-produce to meet demands. But at Casa Noble, each small batch is monitored and assessed to meet internal standards. Any plant waste created during production is used as compost to fertilize the fields. Casa Noble’s efforts to manage and reuse any waste means producing small quantities at a slower pace. To begin, the agave is harvested when it reaches its fullest maturity, after 11 years (most growers will harvest after only seven years). In production, fermentation at Casa Noble lasts five days because it relies on natural, airborne, yeasts (this process typically takes anywhere from 20 hours to three days). Distillation at Casa Noble also takes more time because its tequila is triple- distilled, a process that takes 12.5 hours. (At most other distilleries, this process takes from two to five hours.) The Cooking Process Takes Longer, TooCasa Noble maintains its tequila flavors are deeper and more complex than its competitors’ because of the cooking process. Most tequila producers cook the agave for six to eight hours at intensely high temperatures, like a pressure cooker. The agave used at Casa Noble gets slow-cooked in stone ovens for anywhere between 36 and 38 hours, which imparts more complex, smoky, and vegetal characteristics. It Opts for French Oak CasksMost reposado tequila is aged in second-fill American bourbon barrels. But Casa Noble believes those types of barrels allow too much char flavor into the tequila. Instead, the light char inside French oak barrels is better suited to the Casa Noble brand. The distillery’s reposado expression ages for one year in used French oak casks, while the añejo spends two years in new barrels before bottling. The reposado barrels are used seven to eight times before being disposed of. The Founder Handles Every Bottle of Extra-AñejoAfter five years of aging (and hard-earned waiting), Casa Noble founder Jose “Pepe” Hermosillo bids adieu to each bottle by signing and numbering the label. Casa Noble Was One of the First Celebrity-Owned Tequila BrandsThe pool of celebrity-owned tequila gets deeper by the day. Over the past few years, everyone from George Clooney to Rita Oro has dived into the action. Casa Noble was one of the first brands to align with an A-lister. In 2011, Carlos Santana became part-owner. However, his stake was bought only three years later when Constellation Brands acquired the brand. It Has a Unique Connection to Robert MondaviCasa Noble Alta Belleza Tequila, which runs between $1,100 and $1,200 per bottle (if you can find it), has a unique wine finish. After aging three years in French oak barrels, the Extra-Añejo rests an additional six months in Tonnellerie Taransaud French oak wine barrels. These same barrels were previously used to age Robert Mondavi Winery Cabernet Sauvignon from the illustrious To-Kalon Vineyard in the Napa Valley. It Led the Charge in Organic CertificationCasa Noble was one of the first tequila producers to be USDA certified organic. It was the first brand to achieve both crop and process certification. The current fields were untouched before planting the agave more than 20 years ago, which means there has never been any use of fertilizer or chemicals, or risk of cross-contamination. Its American Brand Family Runs DeepAs part of the Constellation family of brands, Casa Noble is aligned with several other wine, beer, and spirits companies. Its brand siblings include Mexican beers like Modelo and Pacífico, spirit labels like Svedka vodka and High West whiskey and wine brands such as Robert Mondavi, Kim Crawford, Meiomi, and Ruffino, among many others. It Has Expressions For Every Price RangeConsidering the amount of care and attention taken in the agave fields and at the distillery, each classic expression in Casa Noble’s portfolio is surprisingly affordable. Named one of the 10 Best Cheap Tequilas Under $50, Casa Noble Blanco averages $36. The reposado hit all the right notes at just $46 and landed a spot on our 2019 list of 30 Best Tequilas for Every Budget. And for only $56 — which is less than buying a dozen roses from a florist — the añejo sits comfortably on VinePair’s list of The 10 Best Tequilas Under $100. The article 10 Things You Should Know About Casa Noble Tequila appeared first on VinePair. Via https://vinepair.com/articles/ntk-casa-noble-tequila-guide/ Via https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/10-things-you-should-know-about-casa-noble-tequila |
John BoothHi I am John Booth,36 years old from California,CA,USA,working in Whole Seller market,we supply different types of Beverages to the market.Here I am sharing some special tips about it. Archives
August 2021
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