Eat the Worm

People often ask me about the worm at the bottom of a mezcal bottle.
“What is it? Does it get you high? Why do they put it in the bottle?”
So, without boring you with too many details about it;

First, it’s not in all bottles. Just a few.

Second, it’s not a worm but rather a larvae stage of a moth called Comadia Redtenbacheri or Hypopta Agavis.

Third, it will not get you high or cause you to hallucinate. That belief most likely came from the misunderstanding of the word “Mezcal” which some people thought came from the word, “Mescaline,” which is the hallucinogenic alkaloid found in Peyote.

Fourth, and I’ve done a lot of research on this, I don’t really think anyone knows for sure what that little worm is doing at the bottom of the bottle. Even people that claim to know everything there is to know about mezcal can only say for sure that in the 40s or 50s the Nacional Vinicola company, now Gusano Rojo, started putting them in bottles, most likely as a marketing gimmick to sell to tourists.

My theory (And this is only my theory based on what I believe to be simple logic) is that at one point an American tourist saw a bottle of mezcal with a worm in it, though it was traditional and exotic and so, bought the bottle. This must have happened more than just once for Gusano Rojo to think it was a good idea to mass produce the concept. And although this is verifiably true, it doesn’t really explain why anyone would think to put a larval stage of a moth into a bottle of liquor in the first place. Of all the gimmicks you could use to sell mezcal to American tourists, putting a bug in it doesn’t really make a lot of sense to me. And I get the idea that it seems exotic and traditional now, but what was the original impulse?

Now if you read any history on the cultivation of agave and the making of mezcal you know that the larva is an infestation and needs to be removed in order to grow healthy agaves. They kill the agave. So, the ancient Mesoamericans (the native Mexicans) who used agave for almost everything, i.e., food, drink, needles for sewing, fiber for thatch huts, and eventually intoxicating liquids, must have been well educated on the worm long before it became a gimmick in a bottle of cheap mezcal. They clearly understood that to cultivate healthy agaves they had to remove these worms or gusanos, and rather than just dispose of them they used them as a food source. These larvae can grow rather large and probably taste pretty good with a little lime and chili powder.

So, the gusano or mezcal worm has been synonymous with the cultivation of agave for probably thousands of years. That’s at least as long as the hieroglyphic evidence suggests that ancient Mexicans have been cultivating agave. Could be much longer. A couple thousand years is the only clear evidence we really have. This suggests that the worm and mezcal may have a much older history than the fifties. We know for sure they ate the worms while drinking agave distillates, so who can really say what came first, the practice of putting a worm in a bottle or the gimmick?

So, who cares right? Well, mostly just mezcal snobs who love to turn their nose up at the worm in the bottle of mezcal. Trust me, the only thing more annoying than being asked about the worm in the bottle is listening to a mezcal nerd drone on about how the worm is just a dumb gimmick made up to sell mezcal to spring break tourists. They love to whine on about how traditional mezcal never had a worm in it, and it’s set back mezcal for years because it made mezcal look like tequila’s ugly cousin. They hate the worm because they hate the idea that the product they love so much would have such a bizarre component to its history. Although they have no problems with Mezcal’s other strange practices like Pechugas which are mezcals distilled with animal parts for religious rituals. Chicken breast in the mezcal doesn’t bother anyone, but the larval stage of a moth is somehow weird. I have a mezcal aged in goat poop. You read that correctly. No one complains that this practice is ruining the good name of Mezcal.

The truth is the history of all of Mezcal’s wonderfully bizarre processes are steeped in mystery because documents from the inception of mezcal are spotty at best. Most traditions were passed down orally from generation to generation in families who produced mezcal.

So why do I care?

Because I like the worm. I like a good gusano mezcal. Even Monte Alban and Gusano Rojo have their qualities. That statement alone just made more than a few mezcal nerds’ butt pucker. They would never soil their lips with such poor-quality hooch, but if you’re a guy like me that can appreciate cheap liquor you might be able to admit that Monte Alban has some unique copper and sweet rust flavors that, I for one, think are delightful.

Regardless of how the worm found its way into a bottle of mezcal, it has forever altered mezcal for good or ill. The gusano has a strong effect on the flavor of a mezcal and I don’t think it’s a negative effect. It’s a sweet earthiness with the aromas of cut grass. And here’s the thing, Mezcal nerds: just because you can’t appreciate its flavor doesn’t mean it’s not good. Just because you can’t understand a foreign practice doesn’t mean it has no value, and I think there’s plenty of gusano mezcal mezcaleros who would agree.
You see, I’m a copita is half full kind of guy, and I appreciate all mezcal. Even the stuff I don’t like. To me it’s all part of the rich and fascinating history of Mezcal.

People who can’t appreciate the traditions of other cultures just because they seem bizarre and contrary to their own bore me. It’s a certain kind of ignorance to think that Indians are strange because they don’t eat cows and Mexicans are gross because they do eat insects. Meanwhile, you have no problem smiling with your teeth full of lips and assholes as you bite into an Oscar Meyer wiener. “Parts is parts!” you say as long as it doesn’t still look like the animal.

I’ve lived in a few foreign countries and I’ve seen a lot of strange practices especially when it comes to cuisine and drink. In Thailand, I ate every part of every different kind of animal that crawled, walked, slithered, swam or flew and let me tell you, they were all delicious. Emperor scorpions are amazing with a little oil and salt. Tree cockroaches taste like bad apple and the exoskeleton is really tough, but there’s something to be said for the crunch. In Mexico, I drank strange Raicillas from rusty stills that tasted like plastic fires and warm garbage, but I loved them. Not because the flavors were always easy and pleasant, but because they were unique. And being unique, to me, is worth way more than being comfortable and easy.

Sometimes a good idea comes along and people like it. Like a delicious gimmick.
At what point does a gimmick become tradition anyway? Someone put a worm in a bottle of mezcal. It was either over seventy years ago or seven hundred years ago. Perhaps they just liked the flavor.
Yeah, I like eating the worm, because very few things taste like a gusano soaking in mezcal and no, I can’t describe it to you. Sorry, it doesn’t taste like chicken. You’ll have to try it to find out. Either do it so you can say you know or turn your nose up and pretend like you are superior by not knowing because you’re above that stupid gimmick.

Now, I don’t know much about mezcal (or anything really), but I do know one thing; You never regret the things you did while overcoming fear, only the things you didn’t do because of fear. So, if you’re one of those timid types that loves to say, “That’s so gross. I could never do this or that. I would never eat a worm!” well that’s fine, but the truth is you’ll have to face the fact that your world is a little smaller, your vision a little dimmer, and your stories are a little less interesting, because it’s hard to impress people with tales of the things you wouldn’t do.

One story I heard explaining the worm is my favorite. It said the larva represents metamorphosis. The gusano in the bottle is like the butterfly in the cocoon. Which, once opened, becomes something beautiful. Like the revelation of a delicious mezcal.

My advice, celebrate the strange practices, find out why the gimmick is so popular. Eat the worm whenever you can.

Salud!

-river