Roca Patron Silver Tequila



You’ve had this happen to you (or at least I have) – you bring chips and guacamole to a party, any party, a staff party, say.  And it’s nice guacamole.  You bought the avocado, you purchased the “good” seasoning packets, you even chopped cilantro and squeezed fresh lime into it.  Yet no matter how good your guacamole is, the host – or someone – claims that theirs is better.

And that all may be true.  But then you go to someplace, maybe its on Cesar Chavez Drive here in Milwaukee, maybe its one of Rick Bayless’ restaurants in Chicago.  There, they pull out the stone mortar and pestle and get down to business making guacamole.  And that guacamole spanks the tortilla chips right of the table.

Why do I tell you this?

Turns out that tequila is kinda the same.  You uproot some agave.  Bake it, pulverize it, melt it, squeeze it, and then distill it.  The resulting ichor can be called tequila.

Or you can unearth an agave, trim it like an avocado down to only its heart, slowly bake it in a brick oven for five days, mash it with a four-ton volcanic turning stone for another day, slowly squeezing free-run juice from it, and then ferment it on the fibers, distill it twice in consecutively smaller Cooper Tuns, and then mature it in first-pass bourbon barrels.  Now that’s tequila!  It’s Patron’s Roca series of Tequila, to be exact.

Roca, “rock,” directly refers to the Tahona, the four-ton volcanic rock used to mash the agave down into fibers after it has been slow-roasted.  This Tahona method, along with its incumbent processes, has been mostly abandoned in tequila production.  Why do this when you can pump out a hundred times more volume using “modern” techniques?  That was the prevailing logic until Patron Roca came along:

The Silver is, of course, the natural example: aromas of lavender, jasmine, thyme and celery salt come across on the nose with high sparks of lemon, lime and sea spray. The palate is smooth, yet not without backbone – a fruity spice baked up with savory herbs entirely coats the mouth and leaves a rich, yet not heavy, coating of gorgeous agave syrup and rose water.  The Repasado adds a touch of barrel, delving into tastes of caramel, butterscotch and maize. Finally, the Anjeo brings forth almonds, ginger, black pepper and a touch of raisins.  Whatever style you prefer, these are full bodied, powerful, yet refined tequilas.

I know you can doubt that a dumb piece of rock makes the difference.  But hey, think of master Italian olive oil producers.  Cold press olive oil is legally only done by stone.  Or better yet – but not neccessairly tastier – think back to our guacamole.  I like guacamole in all forms, especially if someone else is making it.  But that doesn’t mean I’m not a guacamole elitist.  Some guac is just better than others.  And if I’m gonna ingest that many calories, I want only the best.

And here’s the absolute finest.  Now let’s order some nachos.


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