Mezcal. It is its own universe; at once captivating and revolting. Diverse, expansive, and puzzling. Especially in its best incarnations, it baffles in its contradictions. How can one version that tastes like a tire fire also be irresistible? Why is it that another, seemingly-perfect version, boomerangs like a knife fight on the second glass?
Perhaps its confounding nature isn't a mystery to its attraction, but the reason for its allure.
Case in point: Madre Mezcal Artesanal Joven $45 (750ml) sits nicely between formaldehyde and an overweight whore's pits after a night of arm wrestling. Muy bueno and muy feo. Also a leading cause of why normally-well-behaved people find themselves in handcuffs. Enjoy.