Tequila's subtle secrets: premium tequila finally gets its due.

Compared to Old World spirits with more regal reputations, tequila has long been considered downright tacky. Blame it on a lack of familiarity or the fear of something new from the ranks of the uninitiated, but tequila's unique and inimitable character has remained somewhat of a state secret for no good reason.

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Contrary to gringo mythology, high-end Mexican tequila is not made from cactus juice, doesn't come with an engorged worm loitering at the bottom of the bottle, and isn't swilled with a grimace from a shot glass followed by a squeeze of lemon and a tablespoon of salt to mask its taste. That's called carpet cleaner.

Tequila is a sophisticated spirit, and manufacturing it is painstaking work. Tequileros distill and manufacture their namesake product under the all-seeing eye of Consejo Regulador del Tequila, a Mexican government-sanctioned regulatory council that maintains the highest tequila standards for its national treasure. Chief among its dictates is the strictly enforced tequila certification, which demands that its sugar be made completely from the hearts of blue agave, an indigenous succulent cultivated in Mexico for thousands of years before any European settlers ever dreamed of setting foot in North America. (If it's not 100-percent blue agave grown in specifically approved areas of Mexico, it's known as mixto, which, obviously is less desirable.)

Most Americans don't generally think of tequila as anything other than the key ingredient to a margarita (which is a bit myopic but does have some merit; see "Millionaire's Margarita"), but taste buds north of the Rio Grande have always been known to arrive a little late to the party. Mexicans customarily drink tequila with their meals much the same way one might have a glass of Bordeaux or a cocktail here. Whether it's enjoyed straight or mixed with grapefruit soda, cola, seltzer or fresh lime, it is a drink that is savored and relished.

At its best--neat--premium tequila is a surprisingly smooth and hauntingly distinctive drink, as memorable as the finest single-malt scotch or cognac. The problem, which is a good one to have, is choosing the right type to suit your mood.

Three classifications of tequila are typically available. "Blanco," or silver, is crystal clear and unaged. It is stored in a steel tank prior to bottling, a process that captures the cleanest, boldest expression of agave fruit without interference from an oak barrel. "Reposado" (aged 2-11 months) and "anejo" (aged for a minimum of one year) are both golden to deep amber in hue and stored in oak barrels, some of which were previously used in the making of sherry, whiskey or cognac. The length of aging and the type of barrel used imparts the desired depth of flavor, color and bouquet, differentiating these latter two classifications from one another, and creating diversity within each family.

According to Lance Cutler, author of The Tequila Lover's Guide To Mexico (see winepatrol.com) and one of few American tequila experts, Mexicans prefer reposado over anejo, with blanco a distant third, but high-end thrill seekers in the U.S. are likely to appreciate the more familiar characteristics of anejo. "It's been barreled in oak the longest, which lets its chemical compound react for a complex taste and aroma," he says. "Reposados provide the smoothness of aging with more of the agave taste and a softer edge than blanco."

So what, exactly, does agave taste like? Tequileros would say it doesn't taste, it just is, but Cutler likens it to strawberry in that both share a pure, perfectly identifiable but wholly ineffable taste. In other words, there are no descriptors capable of conveying its personality--you know agave when you taste it, and nothing else tastes like it. When pressed, Cutler employs a description the tequila industry understandably hates: "It tastes like the smell of freshly poured concrete, or a hot street after a quick summer cloudburst," he says. Others describe it as a tightly focused, mineral aroma with an earthy, almost musky sweetness that lingers without burning.

The key, other than finding the right tequila, is knowing how to drink it. Premium tequila should be sipped, not slugged back, either neat or on the rocks as a standalone, or with a mixer. And it should be served in a snifter or a 9-ounce wine glass, preferably somewhere near 60[degrees]F to 65[degrees]F; any hotter and its alcohol vapors will distract from its taste. (Swirling it in the glass will cause a similar vaporous effect.)

If You're Sipping

Of the many anejos available, Don Julio's double-distilled 1942 ($125) represents one of most striking examples of the art. Aged for 2.5 years in American oak, this anejo is lighter in color than most others--with a corn silk glow--but its aroma and taste are unmistakably defined and notable for their elegance. Vanilla and hints of spun sugar fill the nostril, while rich caramel lingers on the tongue for a crisp, stunning finish. Superlative from start to end, disappointing when it's all gone.

Jose Cuervo is the most recognizable name in the world of mainstream tequila, but apparently the king of mixto also knows how to throw a party on the top shelf, as well. Stored for at least two years in small French and American oak barrels (a few of them charred barrels for a hint of smoke) before being blended together, Cuervo's Reserva de la Familia ($100) flaunts a deep amber hue, with a floral aroma of sweetness mixed with hints of citrus. The slightest bit of heat dissipates as quickly as it appears, intensifying the orange and caramel flavors for a mellow, bourbon-like experience.

Few tequila houses are as renowned for their consistency as Herradura, and its Seleccion Suprema ($299) illustrates how constant refinement can breed excellence. Aged for several years in imported oak, Suprema exudes opulence. Its fiery copper color correlates with a compelling woody aroma and a spicy, almost nutty palette with slight hints of apple. Boasting an incredibly warm, faintly dry finish, Suprema finishes with a pleasant tingling on the lips and a longing in the heart. This is the definition of luxe.

As Cutler suggests, reposados represent a perfect blend of ripe agave and age, but American tastes may perceive it as more of a blended scotch to the single-malt style of anejo, rendering it somewhat less attractive. Don't be fooled by its lower pricing; those crafted by the highly respected likes of Centenario, Centinela, Chinaco and Herradura, among others, can lay claim to unwavering consistency and distinctive flavor. And while blancos are less sought after, they are surely worth a dance or two. Hacienda del Cristero's blanco--representing yet another taste from Herradura--reveals much of the mystery of agave without the bracing, almost acetone tastes that other blancos pack.

There are literally hundreds of tequilas to choose from, but many smaller makers have limited, if any access to the American market, making it a struggle to locate some obscure brands. The other downside to the smaller makers is that their products, like those of lesser wineries, can suffer from inconsistency, meaning one thing: Whether you're in love with the mainstream players or the eclectic artisans, buy what you like as soon as you see it, because in the case of premium tequilas, good things come to those who don't wait.

RELATED ARTICLE: Smoke Alarm

Mezcal, tequila's smokier cousin, is also made from agave, but it can be made from up to five different types of agave to tequila's one. The biggest difference between them, though, is that mezcal's agave is roasted over wood fires prior to fermentation, rather than steamed, which imbues it with an overt smokiness.

More than 700 brands of mezcal are available in Mexico, but they reside at one end of the spectrum or the other, between fearsome, tear-inducing home-brews and eye-opening artisan triumphs. Drink the former and woe be unto you, but luck upon the right one and you'll understand what the hype is about.

Comparable to single-malts like Lagavullin or Laphroaig for their peaty smokiness, topnotch mezcal is delightful, like seeing a mythical beast you thought only existed in fables. It's safe to say such experiences are reserved for those intrepid or quixotic enough to test some revolting tonics along the way, but remember, nothing worth having comes easily.

So what does it taste like? Variations on the theme are endless, but it's definitely an acquired taste, striking in its overt rusticity and rewarding for its sweet, silky overtones. The best of class, like Del Maguey's single village mezcals Chichicapa and Minero ($70), are resplendent with salt, oily minerals, citrus and a flowery essence, while the worst--an honor for which the competition is stiff--are, at times, harsh and undrinkable. Seek and ye shall find. M.G.

RELATED ARTICLE: "Millionaire's Margarita"

IN MEXICO, only tourists drink margaritas, but sometimes the locals can stand to learn some tricks from the people in the funny hats.

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* 2 ounces of your favorite anejo tequila

* 1 ounce Grand Marnier 150th Anniversary

* 1.5 ounces fresh lime juice

* a splash of fresh blood orange juice

Quickly pour all the ingredients over ice in a mixing glass. Shake vigorously to crack the ice and create frothiness. Before you pour, rub the rim of a chilled glass with a lime wedge, dust the rim with kosher salt to taste, and then strain the contents into the glass (straight or over ice). Garnish with a fresh wedge of orange or lime, and serve. Savor, then repeat.