Why is G4 Tequila the “Sancerre of Tequila,” you ask?
Two reasons:
Like Sancerre, G4 Tequila is crisp, clean, mineral-driven, and focused, while retaining ample fruit.
Like Sancerre, G4 Tequila is an eye-opening respite when all you’ve ever tasted are manipulated, overly-sweet, and additive-laden alternatives.
Sancerre was the wine that got me into wine. If you don’t know what Sancerre is, it’s a village in France’s Loire Valley that makes some of the best Sauvignon Blanc in the world. Why is it so distinct? Because the vines grow on rocky slopes along the river that contain very distinct soil types, ranging from flinty Silex to chalky Kimmeridgian clay to limestone.
As a result, the grapes translate some of that very special terroir into the wine, and you can actually taste flavors of wet stone and crushed rocks in each sip. Drinking my first bottle of real Sancerre was the moment I realized wine tasting wasn’t complete bullshit. Terroir is a real thing and the best winemakers simply get out of the way and let their wines say what they have to say.
The same holds true for Tequila.
If you think Tequila is supposed to taste sweet and smooth with flavors of butterscotch and caramel on the finish, you’re not alone. There are millions of wine drinkers all over the world who think Chardonnay is supposed to taste buttery, oaky, and smooth as well.
But none of those flavors are inherent to blue agave, nor to Chardonnay. They are the result of induced secondary fermentation, oak maturation, artificial sweeteners, and sometimes artificial flavorings.
If you’re curious as to what unmanipulated Chardonnay tastes like when it’s grown under conditions similar to Sancerre, get yourself a bottle of Chablis. Grown in some of the chalkiest soils in all of France, the wines are the complete opposite of creamy and sweet; in contrast, they are tightly-wound, mineral-driven, piercingly-acidic wines that light up your taste buds with an unbridled electricity.
The same goes for real Tequila like G4.
As I was sipping on my bottle of G4 Blanco last night, I kept rolling the Tequila over my tongue, letting the spicy black pepper and saline minerality permeate my senses, the hints of mint and desert brush tickling my curiosity.
Felipe and Carlos Camarena (photo from Tequilamatchmaker.com)
It’s no coincidence that G4 is made by Felipe Camarena, brother to Carlos. Like his hermano, Felipe doesn’t believe in diffusers, manipulation, or additives when it comes to Tequila distillation. His distillery El Pandillo in Jesus-Maria has become a mecca for true Tequila fanatics and 3rd-party labels that pride themselves on selling the best juice.
What does real Tequila production entail? Much like real winemaking, it means not cutting corners and simply getting out of the way.
Use only healthy, ripe blue agave piñas
Cook in stone ovens (El Pandillo’s oven heats from the top and bottom for consistency in all the piñas)
Crush in a way that doesn’t oxidize the agave before fermentation
Do a long, healthy fermentation with good yeast
Distill in copper pot stills
Terroir isn’t a word I often use with Tequila anymore because so much of what’s being sold is diffused and made from unripe, flavorless agave that has nothing to express. The G4 Blanco, on the otherhand, is a classic example of the Los Altos Highland style: spicy, herbaceous, mineral-driven, and fresh on the palate, but with ample fruit and weight. It’s textbook regionality, from an era when people still understood the differences between Highland and Lowland Tequilas.
If you’re looking for an easy lesson on terroir in wine, get yourself a bottle of Sancerre. Chill it, pour yourself a glass, and let the stony, mineral-rich flavors roll around on your palate.
By the same token, if you’re looking for an easy lesson on real, unadulterated Tequila that expresses the essence of Highland agave, grab yourself a bottle of the G4 Blanco.
-David Driscoll