I dropped my keys when I pulled them from the door then nearly fell on my face trying to pick them up.  It was almost eleven.  I had spent almost four hours at a friend's place, sitting at his kitchen table and trading belts of El Toro Tequila.  El Toro is a thick, brown-orange, and so nasty that your face furrows and your head snaps side to side uncontrollably with each quaff.  You can make a passable Tequila Sunrise with it, but straight up it is just dreadful.  We drank it, quite frankly, because neither of us felt like spending money and it had been collecting dust on his dresser for months.  Thank god he had salt and lemons.

There was a message on my answering machine.  "Hello, my dear, it's me.  I'm terribly ill and am coming home tonight.  I'll be there by midnight.  I may need to go to the hospital.  Fetch some soup, some seltzer, and whatever else you can think immediately.  I'm terribly dehydrated."

She was supposed to be in Oaxaca until Monday.  Hammered, I played the message once more to confirm I had heard what I heard.   Yes, she was returning home four days early.

The next hour was a blur.  I recall knocking a few things off the shelf at the corner bodega, eliciting a shake of the head from Raheem.  I remember crashing about the apartment, cleaning up the bottles and piling and twining a couple weeks' worth of newspapers.  Tidying, tidying...

Then the doorbell rang.  Zelduh was pale and wobbly, weakened from the travel and the inability to eat without violent results.   She tossed and turned all night and we had to keep a pale next to the bed.  The poor girl, Montezuma was wreaking hell upon her.

A few days later she recovered and unpacked her bags.  "For you, love," she smiled, dangling a plastic filled with small bottles.  Having an El Toro flashback, I reached then recoiled from the bag, only to take it from her hand and offer a kiss of thanks.

There were four bottle of Mezcal.  Thank god it wasn't tequila.  No matter how good, there was no way I cared to taste it- not for a few weeks at least.

The two are not to be confused.  The folks at About.com said it well:

"Mezcal is not a Tequila, however, Tequila is a Mezcal. The two main differences are in the "Maguey", or type of Agave plant that is used, and in  the cooking part of the distillation process. Tequila is made from only the Blue Weber Agave but, Mezcal can be made from eight different agaves."

And tequila is so named for because it is originated in a town called Tequila in the Mexican state of Jalisco.  Just as Champagne must come from the Champagne region of France in order to be called Champagne, tequila must come from Jalisco.  Now, there are two types of tequila- mixto tequila is that which contains at least 60% blue agave, the rest being made from sugar cane juice.  100% blue agave tequila, is, as its name implies, made of agave and agave alone.  As for mezcal, any other booze that is made outside Jalisco and composed of 80% agave is mezcal. 

At its best, tequila tends to be light yellow to white in color, is smooth, but tingles the tip of the tongue before washing the nose with almost orange (not orange juice) scent.  Mezcal, as Zelduh's little plastic bag demonstrated, can be any color and taste.  It's a blank canvas on which the distiller may paint nearly anything he pleases.

First I sampled Mezcal Anejo, Legenda del Milagro, which is as clear as water yet packs a thick peat flavor that's lighter but quite similar to that of Islay single malt scotch like, Bowmore's Mariner.  (Rating ***)

El Mayordomo, Crema de Mezcal y Menta, on the other hand, is a light green mezcal that is perfect for drinkers who are trying to hide their problem.  It's 40% alcohol and tastes of mint- cool, with no hint of the booze within it.  Breathe it on your boss and the worst you'll hear is "My, how thoroughly you rinse your mouth."  (Rating ***)

Then there's Pensamiento, Mezcal Repasado, Cafe.  It looks like Coca-Cola that has been heavily watered down.  As its name implies, it tastes of coffee, and is quite sugar.  It can be imbibed straight up, but it is much better to dump a shot of it in your coffee and top it with whip creme.  (Rating ***)

The last bottle in the bag was Mezcal con Zarzamora, a dessert mezcal.  It's only 19% alcohol, and its deep orange color masks its magic. It is an extraordinary liqueur, for it manages to take two apparently antithetical tastes, black berry and smoke, and deliver them to the palate one after the other with delightful effect.  First the mouth is warmed by the thick black berry flavor, and then follows a light peat, smokiness.  If only Zelduh had lugged an entire crate of it back.  (Rating ****)

I find mezcal charming, for I never can be sure what might come from the bottle.  That said, I warn readers against dropping cash on mezcal one hasn't tried.  Mezcal is pricey in America, going for $4 a shot and up and rarely under $20 a bottle.  Ask your favorite barkeep for a tiny sample of what's on the shelf or even to sniff the bottle.