There's always a hidden risk with a $20 bottle. It's cheap enough to purchase on impulse, but if you don't love it, it's going to stick around on your shelf for a very long time.
I'm finally getting to the point where I'm almost done with the Espolón Blanco. I migrated it over to my coffee table where I can sip on something during those times when I'm otherwise distracted, like during movies or in pauses between rounds of a computer game. Slowly but surely, there's an inch left of the stuff. The light is at the end of the tunnel.
Now, this is a first world problem if there ever was one, but if you've got a few dozen things on your shelf you'd rather be drinking, you eventually become a little resentful of any spirit that doesn't seem to be giving its all. Imagine the sensation of being at a great steakhouse and having a significant other pressure you into getting a salad because it's healthier. Maybe the salad isn't bad, but if it's not what you wanted you're just going to sit there and stew about it.
“The Espolón Blanco is all sixes and sevens when the tequila hits my mouth.”
Now to be fair, the Espolón Blanco arrives with some tangible positives. It's 100% agave and made by a fairly competent outfit: Espolón does a decent Reposado and Añejo at a fair price, and those I would buy again or cheerfully pour when the mood struck me. And it's not like the mood never strikes me for any blanco tequila, which needn't be seen as straight downgrades from their aged brothers. Some of the best are sweet and supple with marshmallow and vanilla, others are crisp and vibrant with a supporting cast of bell peppers and herbs.
The Espolón Blanco, unfortunately, is one of those blanco tequilas attempting to combine both profiles at once. As such, your palate is met with something akin to buttered marshmallows or honeyed cilantro. Maybe this is a bona-fide style I'm not familiar with, but to me it's all sixes and sevens as soon as this stuff hits my mouth.
As an aside, the Espolón distillery apparently plays rock music to "wake up the agave," according to their website. So maybe we'll end with a rock analogy. Probably the Espolón Blanco thinks of itself as a Kate Bush or an early Midnight Oil song, all crazy and unpredictable and edgy to keep you on your toes. Unfortunately, it's more comparable to something like "Carry On My Wayward Son" by Kansas: a simple arena rock song with a bunch of clumsy flourishes and interludes that confuse more than they enhance.
I'm betting you'll also get tired of this one and want to change the station long before the song's actually over.
