Blanco Bottom Feeders

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Battle of the Blanco Bottom-Feeders

Welcome back, friends, fiends, and fanatics!  Tonight we hook-up a blanco “battle of the bottom – feeders”.

As always, I am your intrepid host and Tequilero, “Senor Leepee”.  Color me desperate for an interesting “one-on-one” conversation with the major Tequila players of our day.

First up:

Don Eduardo Blanco

Don Eduardo blanco.  I had a smatter of driblets from the Don Eduardo spigot many months ago at an upscale Mexican restaurant / bar.  I don’t remember what he showed me that evening.  What will he present tonight?

Next:

OrodeJalisco Blanco

Oro  de Jalisco blanco.  A very nicely hand-crafted “Genie” bottle holds Oro’s spiritual secrets.  Whisper your deep truths in my ear, Oro.  Confess that you are more complex than your “loud” glass wardrobe advertises.

Finally:

Corzo Silver

Corzo silver.  You’ve got a lot of “cognitive dissonance” to overcome, Corzo.  Your bottle looks like an 80’s perfumery reject.  A Calvin Klein wannabe toss-away.  It is unfortunate that your bottle SCREAMS “vapid social-climber”.  Then again, maybe looks are deceiving and I’ll warm to your hardened high-tech veneer.

I’m eyeing the field cautiously.  I gotta say, NONE of these contenders is really calling to me.  I’m waiting for a sign..  I think I’ll sniff you all.

Oro, you’re giving me the most vegetal nose, I think you’ll be my virgin sacrifice this evening.  Another sniff:  I’m getting a heady caramel and agave mixture.  Not too sweet, rather an interesting combination of sweet Earth and roasted agave.  This could be the surprise I was hoping for.  I hesitate.. then actually bring you to my lips.

A strange wateriness enveloped in a tangy spike of alcohol burn. I gotta tell ya, fellah.. if that’s the best you can do we’re BOTH in for a long evening tonight.  Another sip: You’ve got a thin mouth and a short finish with a burn the entire length of the throat & gullet.  Is this any way for a premium Tequila to converse?  Feels like you’re in a BIG HURRY to get away from my tongue and its tasting family.  Where’s the FIRE, Oro?

Oro, you have a nice nose, I’ll give you that.  After a few sips you DO settle in to something drinkable if not too exciting.  But damnit, it’s excitement I’m after tonight!  Where is the brain-cleanser I need to wash away the turgid details of a day spent absently web-surfing and hitting the refresh key like a mindless monkey-drone?  Yes… I know that’s MY problem, not yours, Oro.. but you aren’t doing a damned thing to help the situation.  Pal, you’re an astringent alcohol overlord, larded up with even MORE alcohol and not much else.  This ain’t a Vodka bar, buddy-boy.  I had higher hopes after being slightly aroused by your enticing nose.

Don Eduardo, give me something to hold on to.  I didn’t realize how desperate I was this evening.  I think the world is falling apart and I’m wondering if your silky sluice can act as a cohesive consciousness.  A sniff to keep me together: OW!  There’s a yeasty sweet-sickness in your nose that’s depressing me.  This isn’t going to be a fun conversation is it?  I don’t want to scold you, Don Eduardo, but you may leave me no recourse:

UGH!  You taste like oily perfume!  Don you have been given a false voice box!  Your conversation is as artificial as a scrotum graft on a philodendron.  No one BELIEVES you, Don Eduardo!  I’ll force myself to have one more interlude:

No good.  Your flavor has been as manipulated as a yellow tub of “breakfast spread” in a sorority house refrigerator.  I don’t know whether to drink you or WEAR you on my wrist, Don?  You are one confused fukking Tequila.  Be gone.  My patience wears thin.

Corzo I had mistakenly assumed that YOU had the perfume cross-gender confusion for the evening.  Please rescue me from this meaningless drone of inconsequential conversation.  I’m begging for a bit of deep conversation here, my friend.  Don’t disappoint me.  Come closer and let me sniff:

Um.. Corzo.. this is NOT looking good.  You smell like PLAYDOH, lad.  Not a promising sign.  I’m coming in VERY close for an intimate reveal of your olfactory offerings:

What can I tell you my immature Toddler?  You smell like an abandoned pre-school playroom.  There’s nothing else in there.  What will we talk about, monkey bars and jungle gyms?  I had hoped for something remotely more refined… say, World Peace?  I taste:

A bust.  Corzo, you’re speaking in a language I have never heard before and I don’t understand a word.  There is a blandness at the bottom of your flavor profile, while on the top layer you slide around a sweetish-tang of oily claptrap

.  Oh, what’s the point?  Life is too short you tongue-tied trifle.  I’m going to drink the rest of you just for spite!  A heady buzz is the only intellectual medicine I’m going to receive this night.

Yes!  Yes, drink it all up and in.  Is there any promise for the future of this world?  I entered the land of the bottom-feeders and succumbed to their depressing monotony.

Waiter!  Check, Pronto!

Winner:  (-by a yawn- )  Oro de Jalisco.

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