PUNCH: The Tricky Business of Ethical Mezcal

The moon was full and the bar was empty and the dancing had entered its sixth hour, kicking up dust that settled on toppled plastic bottles, emptied of mezcal. The whole village of Logoche—a community of three extended families nestled in the agave-studded hills three hours south of Oaxaca City—had turned up on a cool January evening to celebrate the baptism of a grandson of one of the village’s 12 maestro mezcaleros. Just about everyone had come with a bottle, as an offering for the new generation and a tribute to the previous one.