O/T Worldwide shortage of tequila! Oh my!
PUSSSYKATT
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New Yorkers are getting priced out of Margaritaville.
A combination of forces has sparked a worldwide tequila shortage that's driving
prices for the margarita's key elixer through the roof.
The drought is rubbing salt in the wounds of shot-guzzling frat boys, frozen
cocktail fans and anyone who's ever lip-synched to Jimmy Buffett.
For bar owners and restaurateurs scrambling to stock their liquor shelves,
tequila has become a prize for the persistent.
And the forecast isn't calling for a tequila sunrise anytime soon - the
shortage is expected to last through 2004.
The shortage has altered the landscape in Mexico, where they grow the blue
agave plant used to make tequila.
In the rural town of Tequila - 320 miles northwest of Mexico City - police
officers are on alert for another kind of nocturnal poacher.
It's not livestock thieves they're after, but the cactus-like blue agave plant.
An unimpeded two-hour haul of fully matured plants - which make the best
tequila - can net crooks nearly $5,000.
Federales have caught nearly a dozen banditos pilfering the pineapple-shaped
plants since the agave-protection program began in May.
Closer to home, shot-gulping college students are searching for lost shakers of
salt at the festive Caliente Cab Co. in Greenwich Village.
The Tex-Mex watering hole is serving up frozen margaritas and one-ounce Cuervo
shooters at prices 20 percent higher than last year. But hardly anyone seems to
notice or care.
"Hell, everything costs more," yelps student Nate Metzger over the loud music.
"It's New York City."
Skyrocketing consumption and crop shortages have made the blue agave
practically worth its weight in gold.
In just two years, the price of the potent plants has shot up 2,000 percent.
Last year, 52 million head-banging gallons were consumed in various concoctions
worldwide (60 percent in margaritas, with shooters close behind), nearly
quadruple the amount downed in 1995.
Five years ago, sensing the market had peaked, farmers opted to scale back
planting. In 1997, a disease in the plants worsened the problem.
The blue agave takes nine years to mature, so harvests aren't expected to catch
up to demand for four years.
Prices for the finished product are rising impressively too, from the "rotgut"
(used in margarita machines) to the good stuff in pewter decanters going for as
much as $1,200 a bottle.
"My cheap stuff isn't so cheap anymore," admits Des O'Brien, proprietor of
Langan's in Midtown.
"The price for a liter bottle of generic [Montezuma] was around $10, but now
it's not even available. Now we're being forced to buy the next cheapest
[Cuervo white], which is more than $16."
Across the city, bars and restaurants that depend on tequila for much of their
liquor sales are feeling the squeeze.
"When [generic] tequila does come in, if the suppliers do get it, and you don't
know the day they get it in, you're out of luck," says Patty Thompson, owner of
Mexicana Mama on Hudson Street in the West Village.
Thompson said house tequila prices have shot up to about $140 a case, compared
to $80 a case last year.
"The people who are really being screwed are the bar and restaurant owners who
made tequila popular in the first place," says Fernando Seralegui, owner of
L-Ray on West 10th Street in Manhattan.
"We're raising prices, but our profit margins haven't changed," explains Costa,
a manager at Zarela.
Seralegui used to sell his own brand of tequila, but one day last year his
bottler called to tell him they could no longer produce the L-Ray label.
Seralegui protested, thinking he was being squeezed for more money, before the
bottler replied, "No. You don't understand. There is no tequila out there."
Manhattan Chili Co. owner Ken Kessler has taken a more radical approach to
coping with the crisis.
"Until prices come down, which as far as I can tell isn't going to happen for
several years, we're going to serve Rum Ritas - triple sec, lime juice and rum
- instead of margaritas."
A blasphemous concoction to a tequilaphile, to be sure, but all in the name of
stayin' alive, according to Kessler.
"It's basically almost the same," insisted Latisha Amos of The Bronx. Amos and
Cynthia Bouldin told The Post that the only drink they like is the frozen
margarita, so they really had "no choice" but to give the Rum Rita a try.
"After one, you can't tell the difference," Bouldin said.
Hasta la vista, baby!
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kun...@my-deja.com
Judith Rogow <JRo...@ridgenet.net> wrote:
> In article <39B416C1...@earthlink.net>, msl...@earthlink.net
> says...
> > Judith Rogow wrote:
> > >
> > > In article <39B317D3...@earthlink.net>,
msl...@earthlink.net
> > > says...
> > > > -=JR=- wrote:
> > > > >
> > > > > HaH! Our local Vons has a whole pyramid of JC Tequila bottles
> > > > > on display . . . no shortage here.
> > > > >
> > > > > -=JR=-
> > > > >
> > > > But the story is true. I did a story on tequila a few months
ago and my
> > > > research turned up the same information.
> > > >
> > > > Of course, the main result of my doing the story is that I
started
> > > > buying reposado instead of that rotgut clear stuff. ;-)
> > > >
> > > > Linda C.
> > >
> > > I've never been able to get past the old-gym-socks smell of the
stuff.
> > > (And let's not even mention the type with the worm . . . ewwwww!)
> > >
> > > -=JR=-
> > >
> >
> > That's not tequila—it's mezcal. ;-)
> >
> > Linda C.
> >
> Oh - well, you may have my share of both!
>
> -=JR=-
> --
> "To live in the past is a tired thing"
> E Carl, Navaho 1924 - 1943
Linda C.
I am interested in reading the story you wrote on tequila, where can I
find it?
Thanks
Kungtao
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