So, you guys or gals ever dated that one person back in college that was just a freak? In your head, you’d romanticize this notion of freakiness, thinking it’ll lead to elevated experiences that a normal straight-on-line individual simply couldn’t offer. It’s like bungy-jumping or skydiving —-it’s experiences that bring about an adrenal rush. Like that girl back in grad school...we’ll call her “A”. “A” was a straight up nut job. When it came to pushing boundaries, she was way on the other side of the boundary. Most of the experiences I can’t write in a public forum, but one such example of far extreme adrenal rush-borderline crazy was her penchant for taking these back Midwest rural highways. She’d speed up to 60mph, turn off the headlights in the pitch black night, count to ten...and see if we survive. This would turn her on, which leads to other boundary pushing activities in some poor guy’s corn fields. That freakiness wears thin real quick. Real damn quick. As in you checking your medical coverage before every date. There’s goes this pour. It was a sample from a mezcal that shouldn’t exist. This mezcal started life meant to be a pulque. Pulque is made from the same type of plants as mezcal, but it’s different because it’s made from fermenting the sap of the agave and it’s from a pulquero agave, which is used especially for pulque. Mezcal uses the agave plant itself. And not this particular agave. Also—The sap is environmentally sustaining—-it’s like maple syrup, you don’t have to kill the tree for it. The story behind this mezcal is that a bar in Oaxaca bought less pulque than normal because COVID hit. Pulque must be consumed in 2 weeks, else it spoils. So, what to do with all this agave that was meant for pulque? They turned it into mezcal. This is the weirdest funkiest freakiest mezcal I’ve tasted. No way in hell I can finish even a full pour, but was interesting to try a sip. The nose is really farm-y. Like wet hay mixed with barnyard scents. Taste—the first thing that hits you is an onslaught of wet hay. Then a metallic tinge followed by spicy pepper. Then more wet hay. Even wetter. That barnyard aroma and taste is just too much for me. It’s not nuanced at all...just hits you like a freighter. Like “A”, I’m glad I got to experiment, but so glad I didn’t marry. So goes this—-glad I got to experiment, but can’t buy a bottle.