Behind the Scenes at Mexico’s Legendary Tequila Ocho Distillery

At the beginning of April, this journalist was invited to make the pilgrimage to Los Alambiques, a recently constructed distillery in the highlands of Jalisco home to the critically acclaimed Tequila Ocho.

If you’d like to check out a quick, snappy summation of the trip, find our behind-the-scenes video linked above. It covers all the important stuff: the distinction of iron-rich highland agaves, a brief history of the Camarena family and the elusive Old Fitzgerald-aged añejo that inspired our journey. For those in search of the nitty gritty, buckle up for a written tour and plenty of tasting notes.

Exploring Ocho

Carlos Camarena holding court in the fields beside Los Alambiques.

Tequila Ocho is synonymous with Carlos Camarena, the fifth-generation agave farmer and third-generation tequilero who launched the brand back in 2008. As is so often the case within the agave industry, Ocho is a family affair. Carlos’ great-grandfather, Don Pedro Camarena, watched on as his inaugural distillery burned to the ground in the Mexican Revolution of 1910; Carlos’ grandfather, Don Felipe, founded the famed La Alteña decades after, now home to brands like Tapatio and El Tesoro. Carlos’ brother, Felipe Camarena, is the so-called “mad scientist” behind the much-lauded G4.

The Camarenas are an intricate family tree with as many offshoots as the Blue Weber agave plants they’ve staked their livelihood on. It’s a hell of a legacy to live up to, and name recognition can only go so far.

Motioning to neatly placed rows of agave stretched to the horizon, Carlos emphasized the importance of Tequila Ocho’s founding mission. As its marketing material is quick to remind us, the brand is the world’s first single-estate tequila. All agaves used during distillation are grown within a stone’s throw of Los Alambiques. In practice, this means that Tequila Ocho is a direct reflection of the iron-rich red clay soil of the Jalisco highlands, a terroir that imparts a distinctly mineral-forward palate alongside those sweet, fruity flavors often noted in high-altitude tequila.

Only 1% to 6% of tequila brands can claim that single-estate distinction. Pulling up to the distillery, I spotted an unfurled banner on the front gate that read “No Se Compra Agave,” Spanish for “We Don’t Buy Agaves.” It’s possible that the sign was tossed up to impress upon us journalists that Tequila Ocho truly lived and breathed its single-estate ethos. Or perhaps it was a permanent fixture, always fluttering in the wind to ward off roaming agave sellers.

Either way, I was convinced.

A peek at the agave process.

After agaves are plucked from the field, they withstand the usual combination of trimming, chopping and roasting. Hatchets slash through the air as little white chunks of Blue Weber fly off in every direction. We watched with glee as the halved and quartered piñas were tossed onto a conveyor belt and lowered into one of the distillery’s newly built stone ovens, in which agaves are steam-roasted for a full two days before cooling an additional 24 hours.

The rest is the stuff of agave folklore. The caramel-orange, deeply singed agave hearts are processed with a massive roller mill that looked like it could crush steel and brick in the same breath. Next, a column of 10,000-liter open-air fermentation vats in which the liquid bubbles up to a cool 15%-ish ABV.

Our path eventually led us to the best part of any distillery tour — a taste of unfiltered, high-proof tequila straight from the still. Steel tanks surrounding us as far as the eye could see, our attention was directed to a nondescript bottle scribbled with the handmade label “Capolin.” This was a batch of unaged 56.6%-ABV tequila, just a smidge higher than the legal maximum permitted for sale in the United States. Unless you were eager to draw the ire of regulatory authorities, Los Alambiques is quite literally the only place you’d be able to get your hands on something like this.

A delicious batch of 56.6% ABV Tequila Ocho Blanco.

Delicious stuff all around. There’s a cliché within the agave community that the best spirit you’ll ever taste comes inside a plastic bottle handed to you by a mezcalero or tequilero, and this absolutely lived up to the hype. A sharp prickle of ethanol segued into reams of roasted agave, black pepper and a sharp salty note that’s often subdued, if not lost after dilution.

I gulped down a few more glasses of this than I’d like to admit (in good company, of course) and stumbled my way to the next part of the tour.

Arranged around a table, we tasted our way through the Tequila Ocho portfolio glass by delicate glass. Though I’ve tried my fair share of the brand’s product before, there was a certain je ne sais quoi added by sipping these tequilas alongside the master distiller. Particularly when it came to that much-touted single-estate difference. Everyone in attendance had a small map arranged in front of them showing the location of each agave field on the estate. As we picked up each successive blanco, reposado and añejo, our attention was directed to the field from which it originated.

At this point, we were no longer picking out tasting notes — we were savoring the earth itself, translated into liquid with its many floral, vegetal and mineral nuances. Due to circumstances beyond Camarena’s control, the wine world has long held dominion over the word “terroir.” This little demonstration showed that it’s high time that changed.

Last but not least, we arrived at the main draw of our trip — one that I imagine will be especially exciting for the bourbon fans among us. Days ahead of our flight to Mexico, Tequila Ocho unveiled a pair of añejos aged for one year in recently emptied Old Fitzgerald bourbon barrels. We were promised a first sip.

A bottle of Tequila Ocho X Old Fitzgerald publicly unveiled days before our arrival in Mexico.

This was a truly surprising email to find in my inbox.

Not to say that tequila isn’t aged in bourbon barrels all the time. It’s one of the easiest ways to appeal to the American palate, tending to imbue all sorts of vanilla, caramel and oak notes that pair nicely with agave. But it’s quite rare to find tequila aged in quote-unquote “prestige” barrels, the kinds used to age bourbons cherished as collectors’ items in their own right.

In the case of this year’s limited-edition añejos, the name of the game was Old Fitzgerald 10-Year-Old Bottled-In-Bond Bourbon Spring 2023 (a mouthful of a name that we’ll try our best to abbreviate from here on out). Prices for this sought-after whiskey have risen to nearly $500 on the resale market in the years after its release. And it’s not one you’ll want to leave collecting dust on the shelf. In our review of the characteristically high-wheat bourbon, we found tons to like in its sweet and syrupy mix of salted caramel, crème brûlée, honey and confectioners’ sugar. The expression currently holds an impressive Raided Score® of 92 on our site.

I was pleased to find that Old Fitzgerald imparted its flavor unto Tequila Ocho in hints, not gobs. The añejos I tried were unabashedly agave forward, lingering only subtly with hints of wheat, stone fruit and orange rind from the barreling process. Probably my favorite aspect was a nutty flavor halfway between macadamia and almond that simmered on the finish. Though I’m fond of the distiller’s previous collaboration with Brooklyn’s Widow Jane Distillery, I think these tequilas handily knock it out of the park with an understated complexity.

Can’t wait to see what Tequila Ocho has up its sleeve next.