Mezcal. The taste hit me like a lightning bolt of inspiration. This wasn’t the gasoline slap I remembered, with the hallucinogenic scorpion at the bottom of the bottle. This was smooth, lingering with a little smoke.

I thought of my first kiss after sneaking cigs under the bleachers. 

“Give me something that you drink to escape,” I told the guy behind the bar.

The bartender smiled knowingly and set down a shot glass: *“Mezcal.”*

I left the bar without the defeat that brought me there. That night, I told my best friend David that I was booking a flight to Oaxaca. It was more than a newfound curiosity in the old mezcal I remembered, it was me needing to a return to a rhythm of life that refused to rush.

“I’m coming with you,” David told me.

As I sipped, it carried me away to the warmth of my mother’s embrace, the nostalgia of family gathered around slow roasted meats on the grill, talking late into the night. Every sip was a map pointing me back to my roots.

Looking into my cup, I realized that perhaps I had given myself up chasing the American dream, but all along, the Mexican dream was waiting for me to rediscover it.

It was during those mezcal-soaked evenings gathered on the palenque that I knew I had found something real.

Together we made Despacio, a liquid bridge connecting heritage to the present.

In Oaxaca, we were taken in by a sixth-generation Mezcalero, Amando, who showed us his family’s agave and distillation traditions.

His family’s approach to mezcal was simple: respect the agave, trust the process, and never rush time.

Despacio is a sip of the soul of Mexico, a journey back to self, and an invitation for you to slow down and reconnect with what truly matters. 

— Juan Esquer, Founder

AAAA