by Amy Stewart
Ultra Aged (extra añejo): Aged at least three years in French oak or white oak casks of no more than 600 liters.
WHO PUT THE WEBER IN “WEBER BLUE” AGAVE?
If you read any number of popular books on tequila (or browse the boozier corners of the Internet), you may learn that A. tequilana was named by a German botanist called Franz Weber, who visited Mexico in the 1890s. However, botanical literature says otherwise. Botanists may disagree about where a plant should be placed on its family tree, or what it should be called, but they can usually agree on one thing: the person who first named and described a plant. The International Plant Names Index (IPNI) is a global collaborative effort among botanists to publish standard information about every named plant in the world. Each plant is listed by its scientific name, and in parentheses after that is the standard abbreviation for the botanist who described it.
Thanks to IPNI, we know that A. tequilana (F. A. C. Weber) was first described by Frédéric Albert Constantin Weber in an article published in a Parisian natural history journal in 1902. From his obituary, published when he died in 1903, we know that he was born in Alsace, completed his training as a doctor of medicine in 1852, published his thesis on the subject of cerebral hemorrhage, and promptly joined the French military, where his skills certainly would have been put to use. He was sent to Mexico just as the French, under the command of Napoleon III, joined Britain and Spain in invading Mexico to collect on unpaid debts. The short-lived imposition of the Austrian emperor Maximilian I, and his subsequent execution by firing squad, would not have left Dr. Weber with much time with which to indulge his hobby of plant collecting. Still, he managed to acquire and describe a number of cacti and agaves, which he cataloged in botanical journals after his return to Paris. Late in life, he served as the president of the Société Nationale d’Acclimatation de France, a nature conservation society. When his colleagues, writing in 1900, named A. weberi after him, they described his time in Mexico in even more detail, confirming that he was there in his official capacity—and collecting plants in his spare time—in 1866 and 1867.
So what about Franz Weber? If there was a German botanist by that name working in Mexico in the 1890s, his name has not been attached to a single plant in the scientific literature—and he certainly can’t claim credit for naming A. tequilana.
protecting the plants
As these spirits become more popular, a new problem arises for Mexican distillers: protection of the plants and the land. Many of the non-tequila spirits are made from wild agaves. Some distillers of these spirits see the population of wild plants as being nearly unlimited and impossible to decimate; unfortunately, this is the same belief system that led to the destruction of the coast redwoods and other wild plant populations. Although some agaves reproduce vegetatively, producing “pups,” offshoots that can regrow after harvest, the harvest process prevents them from blooming. By not allowing the plants to flower, reproduce, and set seed, the genetic diversity is seriously impacted. Even the population of wild bats that pollinate agaves are diminished because the agaves are not allowed to bloom naturally.
The situation is worse for tequila, which generally comes from plants that have been farmed rather than harvested in the wild. Since only one species, A. tequilana, can be used to make the spirit, it has become a monoculture just as grapes have in northern California. David Suro-Piñera, owner of Siembra Azul tequila and an advocate for the preservation of tequila’s history and the sustainability of the industry, said, “We’ve been abusing the species. We have not allowed the plant to reproduce in the wild. Genetically, it is exhausted and very vulnerable to disease. I’m very concerned.” He attributes an increased use of pesticides, fungicides, and herbicides to the weakness of the plants themselves. Also, water is an important ingredient in tequila and other spirits; increased chemical use and degradation of the soil can pollute water supplies as well.
Already plagues of disease have devastated the domesticated agave crop, not unlike the catastrophic Irish potato famine or the wave of phylloxera that destroyed European vineyards. In the case of the agave, the agave snout weevil (Scyphophorus acupunctatus) introduces bacteria and deposits eggs that hatch into tiny larvae that eat the plant, rotting it from the inside out. Because the weevil bores inside, insecticides are largely ineffective.
Strengthening the crops and preserving wild agaves will require a combination of intercropping—the practice of interspersing agaves with other plants—protecting wild areas to increase genetic diversity, reducing chemical use, and taking steps to restore the health of the soil.
THE FRENCH INTERVENTION
While most mezcal distillers are puzzled by the idea of mixing their spirit into a cocktail, American bartenders can’t resist experimentation. In fact, tequila and mezcal both work beautifully in any cocktail that calls for whiskey, rye, or bourbon. This blend of French and Mexican ingredients is named after the 1862 French invasion of Mexico that brought Dr. Weber, who named A. tequilana, to the country.
1½ ounces reposado tequila or mezcal
¾ ounce Lillet blanc
Dash of green Chartreuse
Grapefruit peel
Shake all the ingredients except the grapefruit peel over ice and strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with the grapefruit peel.
HOW TO TASTE
A fine tequila or mezcal should be savored on its own, in an Old-Fashioned glass, perhaps with a splash of water or a chunk of ice, just as you might drink a good whiskey. Lime and salt are unnecessary; their only purpose is to cover the taste of poor-quality spirits.
A SELECTED LIST OF AGAVES and AGAVE-BASED SPIRITS
Not all agaves are created equal. Some yield more sap and are better suited to the production of pulque, whereas others produce the kind of rich, fibrous heart that is perfect for roasting and distilling. Many species of agave are not used at all because they contain toxins and saponins, which are foamy, soaplike compounds that have steroidal and hormonal properties that make them unsafe to consume. Here are just a few that have been used, some for thousands of years:
Agava
A. tequilana (made in South Africa)
Bacanora
A. angustifolia
100% Blue Agave Spirits
A. tequilana (made in the United States)
Licor de Cocuy
A. cocui (made in Venezuela)
Mezcal
By law, only the following can be used: A. angustifolia (maguey espadín), A. asperrima (maguey de cerro, bruto o cenizo), A. weberi (maguey de mezcal), A. potatorum (Tobalá), A. salmiana (maguey verde o mezcalero). Other agaves not already designated for use in another beverage under another DO in the same state may also be used.
Pulque
A. salmiana (syn. A. quiotifera), A. americana, A. weberi, A. complicate, A. gracilipes, A. melliflua, A. crassispina, A. atrovirens, A. ferox, A. mapisaga, A. hookeri
Raicilla
A. lechuguilla, A. inaequidens, A. angustifolia
Sotol
D. wheeleri (an agave relative called the desert spoon)
Tequila
By law, only A. tequilana ‘Weber Blue’ can be used.
BUGS in BOOZE: what about the worm?
The worm, or gusano, sometimes found at the bottom of a bottle of mezcal is the larva of the agave snout weevil (S. acupunctatus) or the agave moth (Comadia redtenbacheri)—and typically not, as is widely reported in the booze literature, Hypopta agavis, a moth that does feed on agave but causes less harm.
These grubs are added only as a marketing gimmick and are not a traditional part of the recipe. They are usually a sign of a cheap mezcal aimed at drinkers who don’t know better. Makers of fine mezcal have lobbied, unsuccessfully, to have the worm banned entirely because they feel it denigrates the entire category. While the worm may not have an obvious influence over the flavor of mezcal, a 2010 study showed that the DNA from the larva was present in the mezcal it was bottled with, proving that mezcal con gusano does deliver a little bi
t of worm with every sip.
Another unfortunate marketing ploy is the addition of a scorpion, with its stinger removed, into a bottle of mezcal. Fortunately, the regulatory council governing tequila does not allow such nonsense in its bottles.
APPLE
Malus domestica
rosaceae (rose family)
The apple best suited for cider and brandy is what we would call a spitter: a fruit so bitter and tannic that one’s first instinct is to spit it out and look around for something sweet to coat the tongue—a root beer, a cupcake, anything. Imagine biting into a soft green walnut, an unripe persimmon, or a handful of pencil shavings. That’s a spitter at its worst. How, then, did anyone discover that something as crisp and bright as cider, or as warm and smooth as Calvados, could be coaxed from it?
The answer lies in the strange genetics of the apple tree. The DNA of apples is more complex than ours; a recent sequencing of the Golden Delicious genome uncovered fifty-seven thousand genes, more than twice as many as the twenty thousand to twenty-five thousand that humans possess. Our own genetic diversity ensures that our children will all be somewhat unique—never an exact copy of their parents but bearing some resemblance to the rest of the family. Apples display “extreme heterozygosity,” meaning that they produce offspring that look nothing like their parents. Plant an apple seed, wait a few decades, and you’ll get a tree bearing fruit that looks and tastes entirely different from its parent. In fact, the fruit from one seedling will be, genetically speaking, unlike any other apple ever grown, at any time, anywhere in the world.
Now consider the fact that apples have been around for fifty million to sixty-five million years, emerging right around the time dinosaurs went extinct and primates made their first appearance. For millions of years, the trees reproduced without any human interference, combining and recombining those intricately complex genes the way a gambler rolls the dice. When primates—and later, early humans—encountered a new apple tree and bit into its fruit, they never knew what they were going to get. Fortunately, our ancestors figured out that even bad apples make great liquor.
APPLES
SELECTING A TREE: A good fruit tree nursery will carry a selection of “cider apples” and will offer advice on choosing the right apple for any climate. Different apple cultivars require a different number of “chill hours”—the number of hours between November and February below 45 degrees—to break dormancy, so matching the tree to local winter weather conditions is important. Nurseries will also know whether a tree requires another nearby tree for cross-pollination; not all cultivars do.
* * *
full sun
deep infrequent water
hardy to -25f/-32c
* * *
ROOTSTOCK: Apples trees are grafted to rootstock that will control the growth of the tree, regulate production, and resist disease. M9 is a popular dwarf rootstock, allowing trees to reach only about ten feet in height. EMLA 7 reaches fifteen feet.
THINNING AND PRUNING: Cider apples tend to go biennial (meaning that they bear fruit every other year) if they are not thinned. Large orchards spray chemicals on apple blossoms after most of the flowers have opened, which will kill the open blossoms and significantly reduce the number that set fruit. Home gardeners simply pick a few apples from each cluster when the fruit is about the size of a grape. Ask a nursery or county extension office for pruning and thinning advice; they may offer workshops as well.
PESTICIDES: One of the great advantages of cider apples is that the trees naturally resist pests, and if they do experience a little damage from bugs, it matters less because the fruit is just going to be crushed anyway.
cider
The first boozy concoction to come from apples was cider. Americans refer to unfiltered apple juice as apple cider and usually drink it hot with a cinnamon stick. But ask for cider in other parts of the world and you’ll get something far better: a drink as dry and bubbly as Champagne and as cold and refreshing as beer. When we drink it at all in North America, we call it hard cider to distinguish it from the nonalcoholic version, but such a distinction isn’t necessary elsewhere.
The Greeks and Romans mastered the art of cider making. When Romans invaded England around 55 BC, they found that cider was already being enjoyed by the locals there. By that time, apple trees had long ago migrated from forests around Kazakhstan and were well established across Europe and Asia. It was in southern England, France, and Spain that the technique of fermenting—and later distilling—the fruit was perfected. Evidence of this ancient art can be found in the European countryside today, where large circular apple grinding stones used to crush the fruit are still half buried in the fields.
Because the oldest orchards were seedling orchards—meaning that every tree was started from seed, resulting in a mishmash of novel and never-before-seen apples—early cider would have been made from a blend of all the fruit in the orchard not sweet enough to eat. The only way to reproduce a popular apple cultivar was to graft it onto the rootstock of another tree, a technique that had been used on and off since 50 BC. Apple farmers started making clones through grafting, and those popular varieties eventually acquired names. In the late 1500s, there were at least sixty-five named apples in Normandy. For centuries, many of the best apples for cider-making have come from this region, all chosen for their productivity as well as their balance of acidity, tannin, aromatics, and sweetness.
In America, the toss of the genetic dice continued, with John Chapman, a man we know as Johnny Appleseed, establishing apple nurseries at the edge of the frontier in the early nineteenth century. He considered it wicked to start a tree by grafting, so his always grew from seed, the way nature intended. That means that early settlers grew—and made cider from—uniquely American apples, not the well-established English and French cultivars being grown across the Atlantic.
Historians love to trot out statistics on cider consumption before the twentieth century to demonstrate what lushes our ancestors were. In apple-growing regions, people drank a pint or more per day—but they had few alternatives. Water was not to be trusted as a beverage: it carried cholera, typhoid fever, dysentery, E. coli, and a host of other nasty parasites and diseases, many of them not well understood at the time but clearly originating in water. A mildly alcoholic drink like cider was inhospitable to bacteria, could be stored for short periods, and was safe and pleasant to drink, even at breakfast. Everyone drank it, including children.
Cider has always been low in alcohol because the apples themselves are low in sugar. Even the sweetest apples contain much less sugar than grapes, for instance. In a vat of cider, the yeast eat what sugar there is, turning it into alcohol and carbon dioxide, but once the sugar is gone, the yeast die off for lack of food, leaving behind a fermented cider that contains only about 4 to 6 percent alcohol.
Today, some cider makers bottle their product and then add another round of sugar and yeast, allowing the carbon dioxide to build up inside the bottle and create bubbles, Champagne-style. On the other end of the spectrum, so-called industrial ciders made by large scale commercial distilleries may also contain non-fermenting sweeteners like saccharine or aspartame to give cider the sweetness that the mass market demands.
PRESERVING HERITAGE CIDER APPLES
Keeping the world’s great cider varieties alive is no simple matter. During World War I, the front line in the battle between the German and Allied forces happened to run right through Simon Louis-Frères’ famous apple nursery near Metz, France. The 1943 Battle of Kursk devastated a thriving nursery and orchard trade south of Moscow. Today pomologists at Cornell University preserve strains in orchards in upstate New York as part of a global movement to catalog and save old apple varieties.
CIDER CUP
In the Middle Ages, people made a crudely fermented drink called dépense by steeping apples and other fruit in water and letting the juice ferment naturally. This is a much more refined version that is light enough to drink all afternoon in the summer.
> 2 parts hard cider
Sliced apples, oranges, melons, or other seasonal fruit
Frozen raspberries, strawberries, or grapes
1 part ginger beer or ginger ale (nonalcoholic)
In a large pitcher, combine the cider and sliced fruit; allow to soak for 3 to 6 hours. Strain to remove the sliced fruit. Fill highball glasses with ice and frozen berries, fill the glass three-quarters full with cider, and top with ginger beer to taste.
CLASSIFICATION OF APPLES for CIDER MAKING
calvados and applejack
But there’s more to apples than cider. In 1555, a Frenchman named Gilles de Gouberville wrote in his diary that a visitor had suggested a way to make a clear, highly alcoholic spirit from cider. Once fermented, he explained, cider could be heated, so that the alcohol would rise with the steam and collect in a copper pot, where it could be extracted and bottled. A little time in an oak barrel made it even better. The term for this spirit might have originally been eau-de-vie de cidre—eau-de-vie being the early term for any kind of distilled spirit—but it soon earned the name Calvados, after the region in Normandy where it was made.
Americans wasted no time making their own version of Calvados. The Laird & Company Distillery in New Jersey holds bragging rights to License No. 1, the first distillery license issued in the United States, in 1780. According to the family’s records, Alexander Laird arrived from Scotland in 1698 and began growing apples and making “cyder spirits,” or applejack, for his friends and neighbors. When Robert Laird went to fight under George Washington’s command, the family sent a gift of applejack for the troops. The family claims that Washington liked it enough to request the recipe and begin producing it on his own farm, but there is no record of applejack distillation at Mount Vernon. Cider, however, was regularly made for the Washington family, staff, and slaves.
