So there we are, the younger and the older generation having a talk about Tequila around here. The younger fella had just come back from Mexico. The older guy was remembering being in Puerto Vallarta in the aftermath of a hurricane.
Still and naturally, the talk turned to Tequila. Our younger participant thought it was odd that it was hard to sell higher-end Blanco Tequila. The older guy tried to look wise, a little bit grizzled (pity that he shaved every morning).
“Back in my day,” he began, “when we rode our brontosauruses to the beach—they were great for carrying our surfboards—and Janis Joplin ruled the airwaves, white tequila was the cheap, raw stuff, the stuff that Jose Cuervo wanted to get rid of—it was awful. Even when we were kids, we ponied up for the gold.”
“Sure, but that was then, old man,” answered this impudent youth. “We have a different world now. You see this thing; it’s called a cell phone. Janis never had one of those.”
“Well, yeah, but…”
“But what! The world has changed; the world of tequila has changed.”
“I know, and I know you’re right. Back in my day (surfboards on dinosaurs, etc) I would bet you that all the quality tequila that we get now was dumped into a big vat and became Cuervo. That’s why it was so much better than.”
“No, it was better then because you’re looking back through rose-colored glasses.”
“Fair enough,” the older fellow concedes, even though he looks no wiser. “But I think white tequila is pretty spectacular right now.”
“Yeah, it’s the best, really,” says the young man, “It doesn’t try to be anything else. It doesn’t try to be too smooooth. It’s not all about a stupid barrel.”
“No, you’re right; it’s bright, lively, vibrant with the fresh fruit of the agave plant. Sometimes there’s a great licorice note running through the whole thing. Have you tried the Herencia Tequila Blanco—that stuff just jumps all over your tongue.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty good, but I’ll take that Corzo Blanco. Plus, it makes the best Margarita north of the Pecos.”
“Okay, mea culpa, my generation spoiled the image of Blanco tequila, but we didn’t ruin the drink.”
“That’s one thing you didn’t ruin.” The young man said.
“It’s not good to shave in the afternoon.”
“Why did you say that?”
“I don’t know. Someone says it in every Latin American novel I read.”