“The really funny thing that got me about the tasting notes of the pechuga is it says “mostly marijuana.” 

“Well, that’s because it is mostly weed.”

I’m sitting at the bar of Sorbito, an artisanal agave spirits tasting room and shop in East London. I’m a few mezcal glasses deep at this point and my conversation partner is Jon Darby, founder of Sorbito and the Sin Gusano Project, who tells me matter of factly what the pechuga I’ve just sipped is made with. 

Dressed in an Oasis ‘25 live shirt that connects me back to my home city of Manchester, Jon is an exemplar of the kind of deadpan British humour that goes down so well with another sip of the pechuga, and the bacanora he pours for both of us from a big glass jar that may one day make it into the Sorbito tasting machines or a limited edition release for his Mezcal Appreciation Society.

Jon and Sorbito are a staple of the Mezcal Mile on Stoke Newington Road, a community that has been quietly growing over the past decade and has come to define the UK agave spirits scene alongside the likes of Corrochio’s Cinco bar and Doña bar and nightclub.

I believe the UK agave spirits market is at a point now where its character and essence can be defined as separate and unique from places like the US. The phrase that captures this for me is los vidados.

What is the character of los vidados? 

I found the phrase los vidados in The Dictionary Of Obscure Sorrows by John Koenig. The author came up with new words and phrases for feelings and emotions we don’t know how to express and the definition of los vidados stuck with me:

“The half-remembered acquaintances you knew years ago, who you might have forgotten completely if someone hadn’t happened to mention them again – friends of friends, people you once shared classes with, people you heard stories about, who you didn’t know well but who still made up the fabric of your intense little community – making you wonder who else might be out there somewhere, only just remembering that you exist.”

For me, this definition is just the tip of the iceberg. Los vidados is nostalgia, acknowledgement, curiosity and new beginnings all at once. Based on this definition, I believe the feeling of los vidados is created in a bar by the following traits and characteristics: 

• Drinks being explained and recommended within the context of a patron’s mood and preferences.
• A desire to bring someone to a specific place and time through a drink or cocktail.
• Good banter and stories that come out of organic moments. 
• A sensitivity towards other cultures that can be brought down to earth from a broad scale to a local level. 

These characteristics were alive and well as I drank mezcal and tequila across the Mezcal Mile. At Sorbito, Jon wasn’t the only one to display los vidados. Two other members of his team brought the same passion and energy in their service. 

Alex Glynn, director, film buff and agave enthusiast welcomed me on the first night by talking me through how the Sorbito tasting machines worked. We started in Jalisco with highland tequila that tasted of white pepper and cashew nuts, rolled on to a lactic, eucalyptus-tasting variety that blew my mind and then passed through into mezcal country that ended with a superstar Santa Catarina Minas mezcal exploding with chocolate notes and the promise of a return visit. 

On the second night, Lawrence Harvey, Sorbito’s Head of Education who spent a month and a half working with mezcal maestro Luis Enrique Juarez Ramirez in San Agustín Amatengo, talked me through the rest of the products I hadn’t tried. We ruminated on the technicalities of agave regulations, cristallinos and the common threads of spirit making across different cultures.

Primed and plied by cool conversation and awesome drinks, all roads led to Cinco…

A mezcal and tequila cocktail haven

If the los vidados of Sorbito is about opening the gateway to agave spirits, Cinco’s take is to make sure you put up your feet and stay for a long time and a good time. An extension of Corrochio’s Cantina, Cinco is a subterranean cocktail bar with a universe of tequila and mezcal glistering on the back bar.

At the centre of this universe is head bartender Eduardo Miralles, a genial, life-loving purveyor of good taste when it comes to spirits and cocktails. With a penchant for putting a hat on his favoured bottle of the night, Eduardo talks and serves his drinks with a delightful mezcal pixie energy that makes you want to ask about the story of everything he pours.

Many drinks were poured on both visits to Cinco. Venezuelan cocuy. Mexican whisky and rum served neat. A delicious cocktail called Mujer Moderna made with Abasolo whisky, Nixta corn liqueur and bitters by Eduardo’s fellow bartender Helen, whose enthusiasm for Irish whisky had me considering a tour of Ireland’s illustrious distilleries.

Everything I tasted at Cinco was infused with the frenetic and pure force of los vidados that can’t be pinned down. It’s an elusive, electric sensation that can imbue a solo traveller with the desire to sit at the bar and ask about the history of each bottle, as much as it makes friends and sweethearts wile away their time together and set the world to rights one glass at a time. 

This is the essence of the Mezcal Mile and the lightning charge crackling through the DNA of UK mezcal and tequila culture. Like a Mexican corrido, this essence is forever adding to itself and long may it continue.