When you think of a high-end spirit, your mind might go to rare old bottles of Scotch or a small batch bourbon.

But currently, one of the most coveted bottles on the top shelf comes from the rugged, sun drenched mountains of Mexico.

For centuries, Mescal was dismissed as 'poor man's tequila', produced by indigenous groups in remote villages who were treated more like moonshiners than artisans.

The spirit was even banned at one point in its history to protect European imports.

But in just over a decade, mezcal has moved from a folkloric secret to a global obsession.

Production in Mexico has skyrocketed from roughly 1 million liters in 2010 to more than 11 million in 2024.

To understand how this 4000 year old history is struggling to survive its own fame, we have to look at the plant that started it all, the agave.

First, let's clear up some botanical confusion.

Tequila and mezcal are both distilled spirits made from agave, succulents of varying sizes that grow in the dry regions across the Americas.

Legally, tequila can only be made with Blue Weber agave.

Mezcal, on the other hand, is a much broader category.

It can be made from more than 30 different types of agave, each offering a unique flavor profile based on the soil and climate where it grows.

Before tequila and mezcal, there was pulque.

Long before the Spanish arrived, Mesoamerican cultures were fermenting the sap of the maguey, or agave, into this milky, slightly fizzy drink.

In Aztec mythology, pulque was associated with fertility and growth.

It was used in ceremonies to promote abundant crops, offered to the gods, and consumed by priests to communicate with divine forces.

Pulque not only looked different from modern agave spirits, but it also had a much lower ABV.

The high proof spirit we know today was born from a blending of cultures.

In the 16th century, Filipino sailors arrived in Mexico, bringing with them their traditional drink, tuba.

A low alcohol drink made with fermented palm sap that was similar to pulque.

They also brought with them the Filipino-type still, a device used to concentrate alcohol from fermented liquids in order to make spirits.

This was used to create a more potent drink called lambanog, or vino de coco in Spanish.

The Filipino-type still, made with hollowed out tree trunks, copper bowls, and clay pots, was adopted by indigenous groups in Mexico to distill agave, creating what we now know as mezcal.

Threatened by cross cultural exchange and the competition these two new distilled spirits posed to brandy sales, Spanish colonizers restricted vino de coco and mezcal production beginning in the early 17th century.

This pushed mezcaleros into the foothills, and thanks to the simple construction of the Filipino style still, finding new discreet spots for agave distillation became a bit easier.

After Mexican independence, the spirit face an uphill battle.

The new Mexican elite saw mezcal as an uncivilized drink of the rural poor, and preferred to import European beverages to signal their status.

This social prohibition kept mezcal marginalized but also artisanal up until the 1980s.

But in the late 20th century, tequila and later mezcal gained denominations of origin, setting the stage for a massive comeback.

Over the past 20 years, the sales for mezcal and tequila have skyrocketed by more than 270%.

This agave gold rush coincides with two trends.

The first is the premiumization trend, which has seen consumers move away from lower quality, mass produced products churned out by industrial giants and toward higher quality, often artisanally made spirits.

There is also the farm to table movement, the rise of craft cocktails, and bartenders becoming ambassadors for environmental and social justice.

Mezcal, with its small village roots, handmade family recipes and organic slow food processes.

checked all of these boxes.

The ancestral and artisanal methods that originally gained the mezcal market's attention are a masterclass in patience, both in production and waiting for wild agave to mature, which can take up to 30 years for some varieties.

It begins with the harvest of the pina, or the heart of the agave.

These hearts are slow roasted for several days in underground pits.

They are then crushed into a pulp by hand with wooden mallets, or with a stone wheel pulled by a horse or mule before it's distilled.

However, to keep up with the global demand, many producers are moving away from these slow processes.

Industrial operations often swap the traditional stone pit ovens for autoclaves or high pressure steamers, and use mechanical shredders to increase speed and volume.

This shift towards industrialization reflects the shear stress the market is putting on the agave plant.

After tequila received a denomination of origin in 1974, production scaled rapidly around Blue Weber agave, fueling mono cropping.

Now, a similar pattern is emerging with mezcal.

While mezcal can be made from many species, the market is dominated by espadin because it matures at about eight years, much faster than most wild varieties.

This is leading to several major environmental crises.

Because many agave plants only flower once in their entire life, the timing of the harvest is everything.

To make mezcal, you must harvest the plant before it bolts, because once the flower stalk grows, it diverts the concentrated sugars, leaving the heart useless for alcohol.

with demand at an all time high, wild agaves are being pulled from the ground at alarming rates and harvested before they've had a chance to drop seeds, effectively preventing the next generation from taking root.

This overharvesting doesn't just hurt the plants.

It disrupts an ancient partnership with pollinators like the Mexican Long-Nosed Bat.

These bats are important pollinators of the agave, traveling hundreds of miles along nectar corridors, they rely on the towering, nectar rich flower of the agave for fuel.

When we harvest every single plant before it blooms, we are essentially removing the gas stations along the bat's migratory route.

Without the bats, the agave cannot cross pollinate.

And without the agave, the bats face extinction.

To bypass the slow process of natural pollination, many farmers have turned to genetic clones.

While this allows for a faster, more uniform harvest, it creates a genetic monoculture.

Just like the Gros Michel banana that was nearly wiped out in the 20th century, these agave clones are susceptible to pests and diseases.

If a single blight hits a field of clones, it hits them all.

By removing the bat and the flower from the equation, we are stripping the agave of the genetic diversity it needs to survive a changing climate.

But the story of mezcal doesn't have to end in ecological collapse.

There is a growing movement of people fighting to find a balance between a slow growing plant and a fast paced global market.

Many Mezcaleros are taking matters into their own hands by reforesting the rugged hill country, replanting wild species to ensure the next generation of plants survives the current boom.

This effort is supported by initiatives like the Bat Friendly Project, which encourages producers to allow a percentage of their crops to flower, rebuilding the vital nectar corridors these pollinators need to survive.

At the same time, collectives like the Guardians of Mezcal, a group of women using sustainable practices, are partnering with conservation projects like Tierra de Agaves to restore the walking landscape through traditional, biodiversity focused farming.

These groups are proving that by respecting the slow food nature of the agave, we can protect its cultural soul, preserve its ecosystem and ensure this ancient tradition doesn't disappear into a cloud of smoke.