We all love to drink it, but how do you make it? Where is it made? Who makes it? Features Editor Ben Tibbits travels to Guadalajara in Western Mexico to delve into the story behind Patrón Tequila, and explore their new liquid opus, El Alto.
The bee is a humble being. They stick together, no one worker proving better or worse than their counterpart (except the omniscient queen, of course). It feels fitting then, that Patrón sports the bee as its logo — a crest of symbolism, of community. It’s a badge of honour, an acknowledgment of the apex belief at the core of what the tequila House represents. How would I know, you ask? Well, I witnessed it firsthand.
It’s late afternoon on the end of May’s bank holiday Monday. Festival season has kicked off, and already ravaged me. I slug down litres of water, scrub my face of my sins, and attempt to squeeze a week’s worth of dressy attire into my ludicrously small suitcase. An Addison Lee blesses me with a sombre journey west to Heathrow.
Business class lounge, a few dry martinis and some of the fellow journalists’ company aids with the tedious airport wait time and last drips of post festival blues. My mood shifts to excitement for plane food.
London sinks into the background and so does my consciousness. I awakened several hours later to see the fluorescence of Mexico City come into focus. Completely baffled by the time of day and if this is actually real life, I traipse through the desolate airport. A monotonous wait beckons.
But time, as it eventually always does, passes. My second flight proves much shorter, a small step across Mexico’s mountainous grasslands to Guadalajara, the capital of Western state Jalisco. Finally escaping the odourless stench of airports, it’s somehow morning — bright, sunny, amiable. The latter is a good word to describe our kind guide and chauffeur, Sergio.
The short drive to the hotel offers a first glimpse of the city’s undergrowth, and it’s fascinating. For one, most of the roadside advertisement boards are plugging tequila, with my hosts and new friends Patrón being particularly ubiquitous. To see such totemic support and targeted marketing on a singular product is unfounded for anywhere that I’ve visited prior. But such, as I find out across the next few days, is the premium brand’s monumental pull.
Patrón was founded in 1989, and in the 35 or so years since has become one of the world’s leading tequilas. What they lack in long-standing lineage they make up for in business model (under the juggernaut Bacardi’s bracket), culture and, of course, taste. There’s an assemblage of liquid options on offer across their ever-growing portfolio — from the classic Silver to the chiseled Reposado and smoothened Añejo. Now though, there’s a new composition fronting the House’s unparalleled growth: El Alto.
The latest diamond in Patrón’s decorated cluster, El Alto sits at the pinnacle of the House’s collection. Celebratory, high-end, enjoyed neat or on the rocks, the El Alto is carefully and purposefully aged over a period of four years plus, handcrafted from the finest 100% Weber Blue Agave, plucked straight from the highlands of Jalisco. It’s the cohort’s most effortless and saccharine concoction, with tender notes of fig, honey and vanilla.
A magnum opus for Patrón, El Alto is set for retail launch in late 2025, and the hype surrounding the release bubbles progressively. And so they’ve handpicked a bunch of important British journalists (and me) to take in the Guadalajara customs, visit their famed Hacienda, and try out the new drink — in a scenario suitable for maximum enjoyment. Not a bad offer, ay?
Anyways. Finally at the hotel, it’s somehow breakfast (and mimosa) time. Fuelled up, there’s no rest for the wicked or time to check in as we head straight out to take in the sights — a local market awaits. As soon as I step out of the tinted windowed minibus that has shuttled the press party to said market, I have two definitive thoughts: ‘Fuck me it’s hot,’ and ‘Woah… colours.’
The streets are awash with vibrance. Flags, shop designs, wall art: it’s kaleidoscopic and unapologetic, like the embers of an acid trip. We have some time to explore. I buy a wooden recorder and a small knitted shoulder bag. Sergio is escorting me around (perhaps to ensure I don’t get lost), and shows me all the area’s best kept secrets: an upstairs food market, mercurial pottery shops, a bloke pawning off an iguana, and a tequila shop with, apparently, the higher number of different kinds of the spirit in a single shop in the world. 2258 different bottles. Wild.
We luncheon at Hueso Restaurante, a sophisticated and striking establishment artfully decorated by bones, whose jovial staff put on an array of delicious dishes and tequila-based liquid accompaniment. It’s divine stuff frankly — but also rather large in portion. After seemingly days of being awake, a full stomach and a complete loss of social awareness, I’m beyond grateful to finally enter my room and close my eyes for an hour.
Still reeling from lunch, before long it’s time for dinner. The location is splendid — Bruna is an art gallery as well as a restaurant, with an array of painted works and handmade sculptures littered around their grounds. We’re once again treated to a multi course bonanza, local delicacies aplenty with tequila on hand to wash it down. Merry and marvelled, jet lag catches up and we retire, poised for a big day to come.
Dawn breaks in Guadalajara. The morning is overcast and humid as we begin our travels out from the city; onwards towards an Eden of opulence and understanding. The minibus journey is over two hours, and is a rather bumpy one at that with the local roads proving pot-hole-centric. But it’s a small price to pay — the settings are stunning; great mountainous valleys with mini villages and cities colouring the gaps between, and vast plains of blue beauty — the agave fields.
There’s over 200 species of agave plants — 75% or so of which inhabit Mexico. But only one of these can provide the foundations for the magical drop of Patrón Tequila: The Blue Weber.
We arrive at our first checkpoint — a production site for the agave plants. We’re introduced to a guide, given some delicious coffee and stroll into the fields for a visit and demonstration from a jimadore, a skilled worker who harvests the plants. The craftsman displays his nuance, using a specialised tool, named a coa, to cut away the plant’s spiky leaves, maintaining its heart — or ‘piña’ — to be sent off for the next step of its odyssey towards becoming Patrón Tequila.
It’s an impressive and highly satisfying skill. The specific jimadore who has been kind enough to demonstrate his process — whose name I can’t recall — is famed for his artisanship, and holds the record for the most harvested agave plants in a single shift: 230. The average being roughly 60-80 a day.
After the excitement of the demonstration, it feels only natural to cool down with a zingy cocktail or two. We sit down for lunch, and so begins an assembly line of tacos. They come one at a time, in all shapes and sizes, often brought to the table by the waiter before the previous entree has been finished. After five or six, it becomes a fight for survival — a test of tenacity and strength of stomach. I must admit, I fall at the last hurdle or two, but still come away feeling proud of my efforts. Fuller than I can remember, we hop back on the mini bus. The Hacienda awaits.
So what is a Hacienda? Before my visit, I thought it was a club in Manchester, famed as a totem of the rise of acid house and rave culture in the UK in the late 80s and early 90s. But actually it’s a Spanish word for ‘large dwelling house,’ and we’re staying at the brand’s very own. Almost a mini village — a Patrón paradise — its grounds stretch out for miles, situated alongside buildings for distillery, production and more.
We’re welcomed warmly at La Casona, the Hacienda’s exclusive invite-only 20-suite guest house, which boasts an in-house restaurant and the Copper Bar. Designed by revered Guadalajara architect Joaquin Homs, it’s wonderfully decorated, little short of dazzling, with incredible chandeliers hanging from the roof, and mesmerising, artful details wherever you look.
Shown to our rooms and given a period of relaxation, I try to rest off the tacos, aware that dinner is fast approaching. We meet in the Copper Bar in the early evening for drinks and conversation, before being ushered towards our seats for a mouthwatering buffet of various traditional dishes. Following dessert and a cigar sat around the bonfire, we’re back in the bar for the evening’s entertainment.
Lively group discussions quieten in anticipation. We gather around and prepare for the unexpected. Suddenly, in parades a group of identically dressed individuals carrying violins, trumpets and acoustic guitars. The men (and one woman) span across generations, but fulfil one collective purpose for the next hour or two: entertaining Patrón’s guests as a mariachi band.
It’s an intimate and invigorating experience. There’s as many performers as there are spectators, and so the performance feels uniquely personalised — also thanks to their choice of music, spouting out classic singalong hits from “Hotel California” to “Sweet Caroline”, as well as traditional Mexican cuts. Voices sore from chanting in coalescence and cocktail glasses several times empty, bed calls.
The next day is jam-packed with tequila-tinged fun. First stop is an exclusive and in-depth tour of the Hacienda distillery. There’s two methods that Patrón uses to make its liquid gold — the tahona and the roller mill, and we’re taken through both logistically, and invited to try both individually before pouring them together to create the El Alto amalgamation, their aforementioned newest oeuvre.
It’s fascinating, and quite simply beyond my amateurish understanding. But a few key facts that I pick up: it’s a 79 hour cooking process, followed by a 72 hour fermentation process. There’s an emphasis on avoiding technical shortcuts, and everything is done by employees of the brand; members of the Patrón family.
50 pairs of hands will play their part in creating any one finished bottle — emblematic of the care, mastery and effort that goes into each and every bottle. In a world where the art and authenticity of production wains, and fears of AI correlates, there’s a refreshing joy to seeing a field-leading brand sticking to — and augmenting — traditional practice. And that’s without mentioning their forward-thinking attitude towards environmental incentives, such as their recycling and composting of leftover agave fibres and focus on water conservation and waste reduction.
Following a delicious lunch (again buffet style, unbeatable), we’re into the nitty gritty — some tequila tasting. Escorted to a classy chamber, we’re met by David Rodriguez, a firm but charming man who has been Patrón’s Master Distiller for the past five or so years. He introduces us to eight different types of Patrón, all laid out neatly in tasting glasses on the table — including the El Alto, Anejo, Reposado, Silver, and more.
We drink one at a time, each time stopping for a round table discussion. There’s talk of hints of oak, of fruits, of honey, but I keep quiet, worried my tastebuds don’t quite match up. I do know though, that all eight are rich, delicious kicks to the back of my throat. Anejo stands out to me, as does the new kid on the block, El Alto.
It’s a gratuitous venture; tasting one drink after another. It truly allows you — even those with as maladroit a palette as myself — to see the contrasts and similarities of each drink, and is yet another sign of the character and depth etched into Patrón’s heritage.
The final evening has a celebratory feel. Requested to dress in agave blue (or as close to the shade as Depop can muster for a reasonable price), we are wined and dined by the fervently hospitable waiters in the exclusive terrace area, before a night of karaoke descends into fabulous chaos. I ace Razorlight’s “America”, stun with a duet of Arctic Monkey’s “Mardy Bum”, but then fall flat at the climax; frustratingly out of sync with the backing track for Jamie T’s “Shelia”. Perhaps one too many mescal negronis had been drunk by that point for me to fulfil my long-awaited performative prophecy. There’s always next time, I guess.
It’s with a heavy head and heavy heart that I awaken the next morning, attempting to mentally prepare for the day-long journey home to come. The bumpy bus ride and two flights pass slowly in the moment, but are considered only with nostalgic amusement now. With many more belongings than I travelled with — thanks to the incredible generosity of Patrón, I finally find my Addison Lee driver in Heathrow airport and sink into the backseat, sunnies on, hair messy, and mood pensive.
The experience of a lifetime, a gateway into another world, another culture. Luxury and authenticity, comfort and hope. The Patrón family are welcoming and unique, and the architects of one of the best spirits on the market. I raise a glass of El Alto to them. Salud!
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Words – Ben Tibbits
