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I thought for a moment. "Okay, here is something simple. How is tequila made?"
She started to break down the six stages of tequila production with ease.
"The traditional method of harvesting the blue agave plant and how a special knife called acoais used to cut the leaves on the agave plant away from the undergroundpiñabulb.
The agave core or thepiñabulb must be baked in order to extract its fermentable sugars. Traditionally,piñaswere baked in pits lined with rocks, but today, they’re baked in either clay and brick ovens calledhornos, or large stainless steel ovens.
After thepiñasare baked, they are crushed and shredded to extract the sweet juice inside, which is calledmosto.Mostois extracted in one of two ways: by using an industrial mechanical shredder (the most common modern way), or by the traditional method of using atahona, a large stone wheel that crushes and juices thepiña.
Next, themostomust ferment into ethyl alcohol in order to become a spirit. Themostois combined with yeast and water in large fermentation tanks. This process uses either large stainless steel tanks, or large wooden barrels.
Then the agave juices are distilled, which purifies the liquid and concentrates the alcohol in the mixture. Tequila is typically distilled twice. The first distillation produces a cloudy liquid called theordinario. The second distillation produces the clear silver tequila, which is then ready to be aged and bottled.
All tequila is aged for at least 14 to 21 days. Silver orblancotequila is aged for the minimum time. Aged tequila comes in three types:reposado(“rested,” aged for two months to one year),añejo(“aged,” aged for one to three years), and extraañejo(aged for over three years). To produce a more aged tequila, the distilledblancois put into aged oak barrels, which gives the tequila a golden color. There is also a fifth kind of tequila calledjoven(“young”) ororo(“gold”), which is a mix of silver tequila andreposadotequila."
After her complete breakdown, she looked at me with a smug smile. "Now, do you think I know what I'm talking about?"
To be honest, I was highly impressed. I didn't expect her to give me a complete breakdown, but I couldn't let her know that. My first thought was to ask if she knew Don Herrera, but I thought better of it.
"Sounds like you know your stuff," I said nonchalantly.
"Whatever," she said as she signaled the flight attendant for another shot.
I'm surprised to realize I'm enjoying this game of verbal cat and mouse. Our banter continues, growing increasingly playful and flirtatious. The more she parries my questions with evasiveness and wit, the more fascinated I become.
As the flight continues, I find myself lowering my guard. The armor I habitually wear feels oddly unnecessary with her. Our conversation flows easily, two strangers finding common ground high above the clouds.
I signal the flight attendant for another round of drinks. Isabella loosens up even more after her second shot. She has a wicked, delightful sense of humor. Her green eyes dance as she teases me.
We talk and laugh with the ease of old friends. The initial antagonism between us transforms into an unexpected connection.
This chance encounter feels strangely intimate. Two ships passing in the night, finding safe harbor for a few rare hours. I know our time is limited, but I intend to make the most of it.
I turn to Isabella with a rakish grin. "What do you say we continue this conversation over dinner? I know a delightful little restaurant in Manhattan..."
She smiles slowly. "Oh Stefano, in another life, maybe."
I chuckle. "You've got a man back home?"
Her eyes gleam with a lingering sadness.
"Nothing like that," she says evasively.
"You know, I don't usually open up like this with strangers," I confess to Isabella. "It took courage to ask you out."
She nods, swirling the remnants of tequila in her glass. "Neither do I..."
Her voice trails off. I find myself leaning in, not wanting this moment between us to end.
"Tell me about your family," I say gently.
Sadness flickers across her face. "My mother died when I was young. My father..." She hesitates. "There's not much to tell."
I nod, surprised by how much I relate to her story. "I understand. My parents passed away years ago. Since then it's just been me and my work."
"No siblings?" she asks.
"No, I'm afraid it's just me."
