I’m standing in a field of agave in Oaxaca, a state in southwestern Mexico well known for its culinary offerings (especially mole), mezcal and artisan handicrafts. I’ve been to this region many times. As a child I spent the summers in nearby Puebla with my grandfather, an expat who left the United States in the 1940s and married a Flamenco dancer. We’d pile into the car together, and drive down dusty roads to explore the various villages. In them, my parents would buy colourfully sewn fabrics and blankets. At cafés on the plazas, they’d sip margaritas or cold beer, while I’d swoon over dishes made from mole, a sauce actually concocted (in part) from chocolate. I hadn’t heard the word mezcal then – but I do remember being astonished by bottles that harboured a fat worm swimming in something viscous.

Today, mezcal, a spirit made from agave, a multi-varietal succulent, which grows profusely across Mexico, hardly ever holds a worm. In the trendiest bars around the globe, it reigns as one of the world’s most au courant spirits. People sip it neat, like a brandy, or relish its smoky complexity in savoury cocktails. “Within the rural parts of Mexico, mezcal has always been an extremely important part of the culture,” says Ivan Saldana, co-founder and creator of Montelobos Mezcal. He points out that urban Mexicans had previously been most interested in international spirits, but an appreciation for local, artisanal products brought mezcal to the epicurean forefront. “Chefs and drinks connoisseurs began to fall in love with the beverage about 10 years ago,” explains Saldana. “Suddenly, mezcal’s popularity grew from urban Mexico to all over the world.”

Today, at a friend’s palenque (or ranch), a hilly, agave-packed expanse swirls with shades of jade green. The sun beams down on the sword-like tips of the plants, accentuating the sharpness of their fleshy leaves, like lances that point to the heavens as fingers alight with electricity. Amid them, a man, dressed in white, wearing a straw sombrero, hands me a coa – a long-handled stick with a menacing blade. He’s a jimador, an agave farmer, whose job is harvesting the plant. He shows me how to chop off the leaves, a peeling process I liken to eating an artichoke, though much more rigorous. When shorn, a pineapple-shaped round remains (called a pina), which he tosses into a basket. This is the first step in the centuries-old, handcrafted mezcal process.

Unlike tequila (a type of mass-produced mezcal made from only blue agave), mezcal can be created from any species of the agave plant. That, in part, accounts for its delicious diversity. Legally made in eight Mexican states, with Oaxaca yielding the most, mezcal stands out for its strict adherence to age-old production methods. After the pinas have been gathered, on my friend’s land, I watch a mezcalero (mezcal maker) dig a deep, cone shaped-hole, which he lines with volcanic rock. At the bottom, he makes a wood fire, which eventually burns to coral-hued embers. Filling the pit with the pinas, he caps the top with soil.

Several days later, we uncover the still steaming, now caramelised, smoke-intoned innards. We observe as the mezcalero, using the ancient tahona milling process, crushes the pinas with the help of a donkey, whose slow circling efforts rub together immense stones. Distilled as the final step, the liquor is called joven when removed immediately (un-aged) and reposado or añejo when aged in oak barrels (from two months to eight years). Sometimes sweetened with added fruit, mezcal boasts infinite styles and flavours. How to choose? “Have an interaction with mezcal,” suggests Saldana. “Try many different varieties.”

Several days later, we uncover the still steaming, now caramelised, smoke-intoned innards. We observe as the mezcalero, using the ancient tahona milling process, crushes the pinas with the help of a donkey, whose slow circling efforts rub together immense stones. Distilled as the final step, the liquor is called joven when removed immediately (un-aged) and reposado or añejo when aged in oak barrels (from two months to eight years). Sometimes sweetened with added fruit, mezcal boasts infinite styles and flavours. How to choose? “Have an interaction with mezcal,” suggests Saldana. “Try many different varieties.”