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Review: Maestro Dobel Tequila

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We’re a gadget blog, true, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get a mean drink on when we’re cornered. Luckily, Maestro Dobel was nice enough to send us a bottle of their $74.99 Diamond Tequila, offering us entree into a world that was once reserved for Jay Z and mortgage brokers between 2002 and 2007.

We began our test by examining the bottle and label carefully, attempting to discern what makes a bottle of tequila worth almost $80. I’ll admit it’s a beautiful bottle. The stopper cap is clad in metal and has a rubber bung to prevent the precious nectar from evaporating into the surrounding air. The bottle is multi-faceted, invoking images of agave leaves and faceted diamonds at the same time. The label seems to be hand annotated, showing us that one of the Maestro’s own underlings hand-crafted this tequila. And so we begin.

The nose is quite pleasant. There is nothing Jose Cuervo about this, even though Jose has shared many passages down our collective gullets in the past few decades. It is clean, with a hit of spice. So far so good. It is also surpassingly clear with no yellow or tan colors. I pour them neat, no ice, so my testing partner, Phil, and I can give it a good swig.

Glug glug glug we go, drinking slowly. I go through a glass, Phil goes through a glass. It is solid – this is definitely tequila – but it needs no cover-up or chaser. It’s the vodka of tequila, clear and crisp and just a hint that this would be good in a margarita. Time for two more pours.

Tasty, we decide. Very nice. I eschew following this with whiskey or beer because this is good tequila. $80 good? Yeah, sure. I’d buy it as a birthday present in leiu of a peaty scotch made on the Isle of Man. Another glass? Absolutely, Phil, coming right up. Let’s break out the Carcassone. Ok. I’ll be white. No, you can be white. Ok.

Five dollars! Why I oughta. So we drink our tequila our grandfathers made and play and we settle into a nice long drink. We reviewed half the bottle before we almost passed out in our tiles. Phil succumbed first, he’s a damn lightweight, and then I felt sleepy. I got the same energy, early on, that tequila gives you. That energy that says “Oh, boy, this resort is great. Let’s go paragliding in the afternoon after we drink three more of these margaritas.” Or the energy that says “Hey guys, strip club. Let’s take Jeremy to a strip club but first let’s do more shots” and then Jeremy pukes all over outside of the strip club and the women at Baltimore strip clubs have bullet holes in them and you’re totally like “Thank god we hired that limo.”

But, OK, this is acceptable. It’s energy, sure, but it’s a good drink. We drank half a bottle of tequila neat. We didn’t need lemon or salt or Mrs. Dash. We just took it down. That’s a testament to how good this stuff is. You want to drink it straight, even though all signs point to a chaser. There’s still a half a bottle to review but right now we’re a little tired. A+. Good stuff. Get you some.

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