The Mezcal Hype in 2025: A Double-Edged Trend in Dublin

A couple of months ago, I met up with some friends at Kodiak bar to celebrate the farewell of a friend moving to Spain. We ordered the usual: beers and a few pizzas. However, I felt like having a gin or a whiskey. On the left-hand side of the menu, I noticed a small selection of mezcals—or rather, it was labeled as Tequilas/Mezcales.

The selection was listed as follows:

• Casamigos Blanco
• Casamigos Mezcal
• Del Maguey Vida Mezcal
• Gran Centenario Reposado
• Lost Explorer Tobola
• Lost Explorer Espasin

I asked one of the waiters about the type of agave used in the Casamigos and Del Maguey Vida. After about five minutes, he brought the bottles over for me to check myself. I decided to order the Del Maguey Vida, and the waiter asked if I wanted the glass with ice or preferred a tequila glass. As I considered my response, a feeling of indignation arose within me at the mere question, but I settled on replying that the tequila glass would be fine.

 

 

Image 1. This brand offers a type of maguey called madrecuishe. There are over 30 different types of agave used to produce mezcal,

 

My friends, mostly Mexicans, noticed my annoyance at the waiter’s simple question about how to drink mezcal. After all, it reflected a general lack of knowledge about mezcal. Not only is there more than one way to drink mezcal, but in mixology, for instance, it can also be combined with other spirits. Friends from Oaxaca—where mezcal originally comes from—have told me it should be consumed neat to fully appreciate its properties, aromas, and flavors. For a moment, I became this closed-off individual, locked into my own opinion and invalidating those of others. On the other hand, in establishments like this one, due to time constraints and lack of training, the staff often lack the tools to fully understand all the elements of a bar or restaurant menu. So why should the waiter necessarily know how mezcal is meant to be consumed?

Over time, I’ve come to understand that creating a menu involves significant complexity. A menu is essentially a guide for the customer, a map that allows them to explore what the establishment has to offer. It’s similar to an exhibition in a museum, where curators are responsible for providing visitors with experiences centered on the displayed works of art. It’s not just about a visual experience; even in traditional museums, curators aim to engage viewers through their senses.

There are art installations where the intention is for the viewer to actively participate and become part of the work, transforming it. Curators design strategies to involve the viewer; they create explanatory texts, auditory aids, and even place arrows on the floor to guide the audience to observe the pieces in a specific order. This becomes more challenging when artists request specific requirements for installing their works, which are sometimes limited by the constraints of the exhibition space. Other factors, such as budget and available resources, also play a role in how curators and artists can install pieces according to their vision.

An establishment offering food and drinks undoubtedly operates within a similar system. While they don’t call them curators, interior designers and architects plan the spaces to convey the experience the owners want to offer. Waiters, in the end, act as mediators between the “work” (the dishes and drinks) and the “viewer” (the customer). The menu is one of the most critical elements in a restaurant, serving as a guide that allows the customer to choose from multiple options. There are even special dishes of the day, crafted by the chef, either inspired by seasonal ingredients or creative impulse. This dish is usually suggested by the waiter, who uses persuasive skills to present it as a unique option.

For those who haven’t visited Kodiak, the investment in both the exterior facade and interior design is evident. Interior designers likely spent time ensuring the place’s essence was conveyed. As for the menu design—and I’m not just referring to visual or typographic elements, but the selection of pizzas, cocktails, and spirits—it’s logical to assume prior research was conducted. However, the Tequilas and Mezcals section reflects a clear disinterest in providing information about the types of agave used in each mezcal. Worse still, there are spelling errors that could have been easily corrected with a quick Google search.

Lost Explorer Espasin: the correct word is “Espadín.” How did this typo occur? A slip of the finger? A careless oversight? The fact is, there’s another error with “Tobola,” a word that doesn’t exist in Spanish. The correct term is “Tobalá.” Both Espadín and Tobalá refer to varieties of agaves that grow in specific areas of Mexico, predominantly Oaxaca.

 

Image 2. A monograph on the different types of agaves.

 

To own a mezcal brand, it’s necessary to demonstrate authenticity by adhering to the Mexican Official Standard (Norma Oficial Mexicana). Additionally, the agave must be cultivated and processed in areas protected under the Designation of Origin. However, this often becomes a double-edged sword due to power dynamics and the economic resources available to each producer. A clear example is Casamigos, founded by George Clooney and entrepreneurs Rande Gerber and Mike Meldman, which was acquired in 2017 by the British company Diageo.

More celebrities have joined the trend of owning their own tequila and mezcal brands. Aaron Paul and Bryan Cranston, for instance, claim that their mezcal “Dos Hombres” was inspired by a divine revelation that made them fall in love with Oaxaca and this drink. While it’s true that Mexican government regulations on standards and Designation of Origin have helped ensure consumers receive quality products, they’ve also sparked controversy. Major corporations and Hollywood celebrities dominate the markets in Mexico, the U.S., and Europe. Ironically, laws intended to create a fairer market, enabling small producers to export their mezcals, often backfire. Due to economic, political, and bureaucratic hurdles, many independent producers have no choice but to sell their agave spirits to multinational companies like Diageo, which simply package and distribute the product, appropriating the culture and identity of the communities that work tirelessly to create it.

 

Image 3. "Regions where mezcal is produced"

 

It’s worth highlighting that mezcal, traditionally associated with marginal Mexico, has, like tacos, become a medium of cultural reclamation over the past decades. This is particularly evident in its foreign perception, where the drink has been revalued and endowed with a “high-end” aura. In some Dublin restaurants, for example, the “hype” surrounding Mexican culture is arbitrarily exploited for commercial purposes.

One specific example is a recently opened restaurant and cocktail bar in Dublin that, according to its statement, aims to bring “the true essence of Mexico” to the city. Not only that, but they also offer an “Elevated Mexican Dining Experience.” Their drink menu includes a five-course agave tasting menu, featuring mezcal. They proudly highlight that these brands are unavailable in Ireland or much of Europe. Their cocktail list includes mezcal-based creations like the “Swashbuckler,” made with mezcal, Frangelico, Tía María, lime, and “molé.” Not “mole,” but “molé.” Could it be a new type of mole I’ve never heard of, brought directly from the Isthmus of Oaxaca or a clandestine restaurant? Or is it just another spelling mistake?

 

 

I wonder if, in the agave tasting menu, beyond offering the cultural context of each type of agave, they also address the exploitation faced by workers at the hands of intermediaries. The least I would expect from such a rotating menu is that the spirits come from small independent producers and genuinely convey the cultural significance of agaves, beyond the mere desire to impress with exclusive brands unavailable elsewhere.

Mezcal, like objects in a museum exhibition, exists at the intersection of culture, history, and consumption. Just as a curator selects and organizes works to convey the essence of a collection, a restaurant menu acts as a map, guiding diners through a carefully designed experience. However, when the design lacks depth or accuracy—as seen with spelling errors or the absence of information about mezcals and their varieties—the message is distorted, and the experience loses authenticity. In this context, mezcal is a living symbol of identity, a testament to ancestral traditions that carry the stories and knowledge of the communities that produce it. Yet, like artworks stripped of their original context, mezcal risks becoming an empty commodity when introduced to international markets without proper care or respect for its origins.

In 2025 and the years to come, mezcal will continue to gain traction in the Irish market. This phenomenon evokes ambivalent feelings in me. On the one hand, I feel a profound love for this drink, which goes far beyond its flavors: mezcal represents ancestral knowledge and the transmission of a rich cultural heritage. It is a bridge that connects distant territories and opens dialogues between diverse cultural expressions. On the other hand, I feel frustration when I see how, in many cases, mezcal is perceived merely as another spirit, stripped of its complexity and depth. This superficial view reduces the many layers of history, tradition, and meaning intricately woven into its essence and production to a simple, straight line.

To keep researching into the process of making mezcal, the challenges faced by small producers, and more about this wonderful agave distillate, I invite you to watch this video:  www.youtube.com/watch?v=BcfR8j1c31I&t=622s

 

¡Salud!