I'll freely admit the romance of the first taste may have defined my palate.
I first tried Mezcal in Mexico, in a little Oaxacan hole-in-the-wall restaurant, eating prawn tlayudas and sipping mezcal as the owner poured across the table and made conversation with my wife and I. Now, realize that both my wife and I spoke pretty broken spanish, and the Oaxacan woman spoke no English. But we all spent so much time working through it so she could tell us the wonders of her country, and we could tell her how much we were falling in love with it.
Don't mean to sidetack too much, but it was pretty amazing. The wife and I got to experience grace and patience like you seldom experience here much anymore, and she got to take pride in a couple of gringos showing delight and love for her country.
It was one of those little post card moments you know will always be a memory.
The citrus, smoke and fire in the belly kind of take me back to that moment, and it's sweet.
OK... TMI for a liquor-snob convo... lol