Sauza Tequila Blanco – It can’t be as bad as all that, can it?

I certainly wasn’t intending to buy tequila that day, but there I was, in the booze aisle at Morrison’s, and it was the first time I’d ever seen a supermarket tequila that wasn’t Jose Cuervo or Sierra. I’ve got twenty quid. I’m out of tequila. I’m on it.

Now, at £19.99 for 50cl this is poor value for a tequila that isn’t even 100% agave – especially when it’s from a supermarket. 70cl of el Jimador was only just over £20 from Carrington’s, and soon after this purchase of Sauza I happened to be looking online, and saw that Waitrose were selling the el Jimador Reposado (gold) for £20… it just gets worse.

I’m not even kidding because then, I started looking for reviews of Sauza (38% ABV) and it looks like it is probably the worst tequila ever. Here’s some direct quotations:

From tequila.net

“Skip this one. It's not even passable as a mixer.”

From Cracked.com

“Cheap, but really they should be paying you to drink it.” Frankly, the page this one is culled from is negative about all tequila, so perhaps take with a pinch of salt… and lime.

“Sauza is what the parents of other tequila brands use as a boogeyman to scare their children into being tasty. Sauza's a salty mix of hot garbage and all of your nightmares. If hate was a liquid that you could drink, you would use it as a chaser for Sauza.” Someone thinks they’re funny.

“Sauza Tequila doesn't go through the traditional distillation process that most brands go through. Instead, the bottlers wait for someone to get drunk on different Tequila, and then simply bottle that person's vomit and slap a Sauza label on it.”

It’s not all bad actually:

From Amazon

“The finest tequila I have ever found -- I have purchased only this one for decades.” So how do you know it’s the finest?

The general consensus though is that this is bad. But can anything actually be as bad as that? Let’s find out.

Firsly, let’s just be sensible ok? Nothing can be as bad as all that. This is the internet, and if you want people to read your work and enjoy it, you are maybe going to exaggerate a little. The point is that this is supposed to be particularly bad tequila. I suppose I’m saying that as a reminder to myself  - to maintain some perspective before I start over-analysing.

So what happened at fulfilment time?

I opened the bottle, poured a little and went to the next room to get my camera. A few seconds later when I returned, the smell of alcohol had escaped, and I found that pleasing. Off to the living room, bottle and all where I think we were watching a documentary about former chess champion Bobby Fischer.

I followed the procedure of sip one, neck a couple, sip one to get a full impression of what it’s like neat and what I found was that, while it’s not that bad, it certainly isn’t good and it doesn’t even taste like tequila. I can’t detect any agave in there and there is little to enjoy – perhaps a slight citrus element, but mostly aniseed. It’s grainy and watery, and it’s certainly not something that is likely to replace my Stoli Blue (which, at time of writing was sadly on its way out and is now long gone) as an early evening mood enhancer.

Since it’s not a sipper (or even a shooter), that meant I would have to try two more tests – with lime and tequila sunrise. This would be something Mrs Cake could get involved in.

With lime

Yes, I can find a use for Sauza if I squeeze a little lime juice into it, but that’s not what I buy tequila for. You can squeeze lime juice into pretty much any bad spirit and make it palatable. What I’m looking for is something I can sip on its own and marvel at how horrible but how great it is at the same time. Sauza just tastes… dirty.

True enough, I do need something I can just throw down my throat before I head out the door in the morning… just kidding, I mean before I go on a heavy night out sometimes, but even then, there are so many more and better alternatives than this one.

Tequila Sunrise

Sorry, I didn’t even get around to trying it with the old orange juice and grenadine. That’s not really the point though, is it? If it was the cheapest tequila, and you wanted to mix it, then fine, but this isn’t even the cheapest tequila. There’s better, there’s better for drinking straight and there’s cheaper for if you just want to mix it.

Is it as bad as all that?

No. Not quite. But it’s not that much better than all that. Some people don’t like tequila anyway, but I do and this almost makes me forget why. So there you have it. If you’ve got £20 to spend on tequila, you can get the 100% agave Jose Cuervo Tradicional (which I’ll be looking at another time) or el Jimador. If you don’t even have that much, maybe just don’t bother. Eh? There’s a good lad.

Now, I’m off to Florida this weekend (don’t rob my house while I’m gone, will you?) where I’ll be visiting NASA, swimming with manatees and then feigning extreme enthusiasm (hopefully while suitably “merry”) all the way around Disney World. More importantly, I’ll be using the experience to pick up some bourbon brands that I might not be able to get at home. It does mean that there won’t be a post next week, but don’t worry. I’ll be back the week after that, and at the moment it looks like I’ll be looking at the Grant’s Sherry Cask Edition. Join me then. See you later.

Taking centre stage this week is another example of one of my favourite spirit varieties, grappa. This one has a ridiculously long name, so we’ll just call it Mille Lune, as that appears to be the particular expression. It was purchased directly from the Castello San Donato in Perano vineyard in the Chianti region of Italy, for the modest sum of 15 euros for 50cl, and has already featured on this blog as one of my 2013 Spirits of the Year . Time now for a bit more depth…

Chianti, we learned, is made mostly with Sangiovese grapes, though apparently there is also some merlot in this one.

It comes in a classy, two-tone box with gold lettering and a long, narrow bottle with a crest embossed onto it. It is bottled at 42%. It doesn’t look like it’s available in the UK, so it definitely achieves the booze tourism objectives of exclusivity and value.

It wasn’t the only grappa I bought on this trip, as you would find out by reading here, but it was the first I opened of the two I took home. The other is an aged (and even numbered) variety, so I’m expecting that to be the most special.

Fulfilment was announced by a strong scent of white chocolate emerging from the newly opened bottle, an impression that continues over to the palate, though there is also a touch of liquorice (in a nice way) if you hold it at the back of your tongue. For maximum enjoyment, see if you can hold it just over your molars.

The finish is a little tart (just how I like my women), though it isn’t bitter so you’re left with a perfect balance against the sweetness.

The strong impression of white chocolate inspired me to acquire a bar of Choceur (Aldi’s finest) to try with it, but I’m sorry to say they don’t go together. The chocolate is far sweeter, and that means the grappa comes off less favourably. But that’s fine, just drink the grappa on its own.

I don’t recall being as impressed as this at the vineyard tasting, but I’ve been loving this since I opened it. For the moment it surpasses even the Domenis Storica that had been my favourite grappa up to this point, and in comparison this is great value compared to the 32 euros I paid for that.

At the moment, all I want to drink is this grappa and the 100 Proof Stolichnaya (another Spirit of the Year), so you know it’s good stuff. 

A bit o' blue fo' t'dads: Stolichnaya 100 Proof

Exciting times: I finally got around to ordering that extra strong Stolichnaya vodka that I had been coveting for some time, like God’s neighbour’s very fine arse – 50% ABV, it is. It was delivered quickly… but sadly to a neighbour’s house. I read the card as no 3, and went there twice (thankfully no one was in) before realising the card said no 13. I didn’t even know there were 13 houses on our road. There are, and it’s the one occupied by the Australian guy who, when we met him, told us he was about to play cricket for the first time ever. That’s like meeting an adult Indian who’s never had a curry. What next; a Manc who doesn’t think he’s funny?

He’s been doing the house up for however many months it’s been since he and his partner moved in there, and that’s what he was doing the three times I went and knocked on – receiving no answer. As I found out the next day when I returned from an incredibly early round of golf to find the bottle had been delivered to Mrs Cake in my absence, he had been working in the loft and unable to get to the door in time. No matter, the prize was now in my possession, and ready to begin its obligatory anticipation-building period, or ABP* as I’m calling it until I can think of something better.

It isn’t absolutely necessary, but it is a universal truth that it is best to open a new bottle when you have company – not too much company, mind. You want to make sure there’s plenty left for you to enjoy on your own afterwards.

 

And so it was that I decided the 100 Proof Stoli was ripe for opening one Friday evening when my friend Phil came round. It had been a while, and there was booze to be shown off so out came the blue.

A-a-a-a-a-nd… it’s fricking delicious – way better than I ever even imagined it could be. I thought the Stoli red was good (it is), but this is just another level of greatness. The increased strength adds layer upon layer to that flavour – which still tastes like Stoli red but… more. It’s full bodied, oily, mouth coating… all those good things, and it just got better and better with every sip. This was at room temperature too – no need to freeze.

This is quite simply the best vodka I’ve ever known, and at around £25 a bottle, well worth it. No, don’t waste your time if you want to mix it with something but, if mixing is all you use vodka for, this could expand your consciousness and give you something you didn’t think was possible: vodka you want to drink straight (if Stoli red hadn’t already done that).

Phil agreed that it was tasty, and I was enjoying it so much that my next thought was, Paul needs to try this. I made sure to pour some in a sample jar and take it out to the next day’s pub crawl.

“You know what I think of vodka, don’t you?” Paul said as I handed it over.

He took a sip, and even he was impressed. I told him to keep the sample, and keep dipping into it.

In conclusion then, I have a new favourite vodka. It’s the same as the old favourite, but stronger and better. I’ve been pretty much tearing this bottle up on Friday nights before settling in with the mellower stuff.

I doubt I’m ever going to improve on it but… I have learned there is also a Stolichnaya Gold vodka at around the same price, that no doubt will be on my shopping list now – despite being only 40% ABV. After that I suppose I’ll have to try some different brands. I better find some good ones quick though, or I’m just going to order the 100 proof Stoli in bulk and let everyone else take care of the others.

*the practice of leaving a new bottle unopened for an unspecified period to further build the anticipation/excitement, making the actual opening (or, moment of fulfilment) a special occasion. You don’t need a special occasion to open special booze –opening the booze is special occasion enough.