We’ve all heard the stories—bottles of tequila with a “worm” at the bottom, daring you to drink from the liquid in which it was embalmed. Or maybe it was a snake in the bottle? Or a scorpion?
In fact, it was certainly mezcal rather than tequila that had the “worm”—back then, however, most people weren’t familiar enough with either to know the difference. And the “worm” was technically not a worm but a larva, even if the Mexicans call it gusano de maguey, or agave worm. Mezcal bottled with one inside—such bottles are still around, if not as popular as they once were—is called mezcal con gusano.
How Did the Little Guy Get in There?
There are tales about the origins of mezcal con gusano—that the larva improved the flavor of the spirit; that it brought strength and good fortune to whomever got to drink the worm; that it was an aphrodisiac; that the “worm” was a sign of the spirit’s potency or purity. To some, the gusano was a marker of quality; to others, it was a mystery.
There are a variety of insects living on or near agave plants, including the agave snout weevil and the tequila giant skipper butterfly. The agave snout weevil—the white larvae of which are used for mezcal con gusano—is a major pest to both agave and yucca plants in Mexico. They’re also called picudo del agave—picudo meaning “pointed” or “with a snout,” which is fitting: pregnant female weevils use their body to puncture the lower part of the agave plant, trunk and root included, where they then deposit eggs in clusters or on their own. After the eggs hatch, the larvae burrow deeper into the tissue of the plant. This process can introduce microorganisms and bacteria into the agave, harming the plant. Larvae collectors or gusaneros harvest them from May to September, identifying infected agave plants and using a hook to extract the larvae from its center.
From a literal hook to a figurative one, enterprising distillers turned these pests into a regular topic of conversation at dinner parties for decades. (The place of the “tequila worm” in the American popular imagination arguably peaked with a memorable scene in Poltergeist 2—you can find it on YouTube, if you must.) Further digging reveals what is likely the truth—it wasn’t tradition or informal science that made this a trend. It was marketing.
Consumption of worms isn’t uncommon in the region; they’re regularly cooked or fried up to add to salsa, or they’re mixed into a skillet with veggies and beans. However, the worm didn’t begin to appear in mezcal until the 1940s and 1950s, when a distiller and entrepreneur named Jacobo Lozano Páez is said to have placed larvae into his bottles as a marketing ploy to sell more.
Mas que Mezcal
It’s not just mezcal—insects of various species have wormed their way into some of our favorite spirits.
In Australia, the Seven Seasons brand sells a Green Ant Gin made with native green ants harvested in the bush by the Larrakia people. The ants impart a specific character—like lime and coriander—so the distillers use them during the actual distillation, as if they were a botanical, besides adding them to the finished spirit in the bottle. In each bottle, you might find five to seven ants floating in the spirit.
Ants have a long-established history as part of certain aboriginal folk medicines—a similar background to what some have theorized to be behind mezcal con gusano. In creation stories among indigenous people in Mexico and Central America, ants play a pivotal role. Corn came to the people when the Aztec deity Quetzalcoatl saw a kernel of corn being carried by a red ant. Quetzalcoatl asks the ant where he got that kernel, and the ant says it found the seed in their Mountain of Sustenance. Disguised as a black ant, Quetzalcoatl follows the red ant to the food mountain and receives corn, chia seeds, and beans, bringing them all back to the humans. Ants also are the foundation of medicines from the Red Ant People, a medicine society of the Zuni that cured skin afflictions.
Likewise, in China and Southeast Asia, there are traditions of putting venomous snakes and other creatures into distilled rice spirits—so called “snake wine.” Even today, local people associate those liquors with medicinal value as well as strength and virility.
Regardless whether there is a connection between indigenous medicines and putting critters into spirits, we can now find plenty of other things—fruits, oak, fish roe, insects, and even whole snakes—in our bottles. Gimmickry or not, a few recent companies have built their businesses around the practice.
Based in Los Angeles, Seth Benhaim founded Infuse Spirits in 2012 after experiencing memorable spirits on his travels. Infused spirits were common enough, but he saw an opening for the beguiling effect of seeing the ingredients inside the bottle. Since its inception, Infuse has launched a family of vodkas with lemon peel, mango and habañero, cinnamon and apple, peach, and grapefruit—each bottled with the marquee ingredients inside.
Sanctified Spirits, based in Southlake, Texas, also has a unique approach to bottling their spirits. Under the Oak & Eden line, each bottle of their whiskey has a sliver of oak in it. The company says any flavor impact of the wood is exhausted after about six weeks in the bottle.
Flavor from the Floatie
The goal of infusion is usually not to extract all the possible flavor from the thing submerged into the liquid. Anyone who’s made tea will be familiar with the concept—too long, and you can get astringency and other off-flavors.
Generally, the idea of infusing ingredients in spirits is to get the best flavor. In commercial production, that flavor also should be consistent. So, typically, you submerge the ingredient for a specific amount of time, and then you remove the ingredient to avoid over-extraction. Historically, this has been something of an exact science—or at least that’s the goal, to dial in the product.
You can see the effects of small, precise changes in overall flavor when you look at spirits such as limoncello. While not quite a mainstay in North America, limoncello is a necessity for many Italians, and many households make their own rather than buy it from a store. To make it, they infuse lemon peels in high-proof spirits and then dose it with sugar and water. Debates over who has the best and how exactly they got there have raged for decades. The most hotly contested variable is exactly how long you infuse the lemon peels.
Caribbean countries are almost as famous for what they do with rum after it’s bottled as they are for the rum itself. Infusions are typical in many island establishments—tucked into corner of the bar, you can often find a glass container filled with ingredients such as allspice berries, cinnamon, grated ginger, or lime peel, all soaking in overproof rum.
On the island of Dominica, they call this “bush rum”—bottles from local distilleries that have been infused with almost every herb, fruit, and twig that grows on the island. It’s a tradition that stems from the same line as ant distillates: the infusion of herbs for medicinal purposes but modernized and moved into a much more informal environment. Island locals say nannie, an anise-like spice, improves memory and decreases muscle pain, while lemongrass will help you keep tabs on your cholesterol—you can find a bottle of each at backbars across Dominica.
Bush rum and other infused rums served on Caribbean islands may move quickly—often consumed by tourists enamored by the tradition. The bar staff will siphon off the infusion throughout the day, and someone will be in charge of making a new batch when needed. Over-extraction is possible, but it’s hardly a serious deterrent in an environment like that.
In the case of infused fauna—bugs, worms, snakes, and so on—the risk of over-extracting something like tannins is lower, but you may not be sure exactly what character your spirit will get from the experience. There are places around the world where people consume insects for protein and antioxidant properties, but their flavors are not as straightforward as lemon or cinnamon. They will ultimately impart some character … but finding the exact result takes research and trials. You may be better off deploying them in the kitchen rather than the distillery.
Around the world and throughout history, different cultures have been soaking various things in medicines and alcoholic beverages. The ingredients vary wildly—depending on location, season, and reason for infusion—but one variable all must contend with is time in a bottle.
While it’s indisputable that there is marketing value in this approach—and more historical resonance than you might think—any distiller should consider the reality that you may be giving up some control of the spirit’s final character. Whether that’s worth the show is up to the producer.