An “Honest Spirit”: Thirty Minutes of Mezcal with Mayahuel's Philip Ward
Label-less, window-tinted, yet utterly devoid of ostentation, Mayahuel is Manhattan's tequila-mezcal gem. After trying a Hot Spell from the dozens of mezcal-based drinks on Mayahuel's menu, I knew I had to sit down and talk booze with owner and beverage director, internationally renowned bartender Philip Ward.
Philip welcomed me out of the bright blue Saturday weather and into the contrastingly atmospheric interior of Mayahuel, offering me a drink as he poured himself Campari with a splash of grapefruit juice. Perching myself at the bar lined with quality mezcal, I announced, “I'm just going to interrogate you until you kick me out, okay?”
And man, I'm glad that I did.
A Pittsburgh native, Philip waited tables before bartending at Manhattan's Flatiron Lounge, after which he graduated to Pegu Club, then moved on to famed mixology bar Death & Company. “Opening up Mayahuel was basically a reward for my work at Death & Company. My friend over there, Ravi, asked if I wanted to start a new place, and it took me about three seconds to decide that it was going to be a tequila-mezcal bar.”
Most of us are familiar with tequila, but in case you don't know what mezcal is, it's a smoky spirit made from the maguey plant, a form of agave.
Despite his obvious love for mezcal today, Philip's first experience with the distillate wasn't too pleasant. “I was in Pittsburgh about fourteen or fifteen years ago, and I'd had too much to drink at a party. My friend came out on the porch with this bottle of shitty mezcal, and I threw it up.”
But as is the case with so many relationships, Philip's acrimonious introduction to mezcal would be overruled when Ron Cooper gave a tasting presentation at Death & Company.
“I think most people's first experiences with spirits are bad, because they drink the bad quality, bestselling booze. It's garbage, but it's marketed well and it's inexpensive.”
What draws Philip to mezcal is its complex body, what he describes as an extreme variability from mezcal to mezcal. Philip sums up the experience in a conversation he had with his friend Pedro, the owner of Pare De Sufrir, a mezcal bar in Guadalajara.
“I said Pedro, I need to tell you two things. One, this is my favorite bar in the world. Two, Forrest Gump's mother was wrong. Life isn't a box of chocolates, it's a selection of mezcal. You never know what you're gonna get.”
With around thirty varieties of mezcal-producing agave, one mezcal can taste nothing like the next. Espadín, the most common kind of agave, is totally different than tepeztate, which can take up to thirty years to mature. “It's bonkers,” Philip says.
Another thing Philip notes about mezcal is what he describes as its honesty. As he puts it, the farmers who make mezcal have been making it for generations, and the intention is to have every last drop consumed. Therefore, the stuff better be close to perfect. He notes how traditional marketing can overshadow this all-consuming process, referencing a bottle of tequila on his shelf, Pueblo Viejo. “The bar runs on it, the quality is great. For a reposado, the price is amazing. But could it be better? Absolutely.”
And just how does one get initiated into tasting this “honest” spirit? Philip encourages first-timers to have a go with, you guessed it, a cocktail. “When you're trying to get a kid to try onions or garlic, you don't just give him the whole onion. You chop it up, maybe put it in macaroni. That's how it is with mezcal. A lot of people try it and go 'it's like smoke!' And I say, take a couple sips, you have to get past the smoke. That's how it is with any spirit, you have to get past the predominant flavor. I don't even taste the smoke anymore.”
At Mayahuel, you can dip your toes into the world of mezcal by trying the Randy Cocktail: reposado tequila, ginger, lime, all served in a mezcal-rinsed glass. “When people try it, they go, 'what is that! What was that thing I was tasting?' And so then they want to try a little more. Eventually, they move onto stirred cocktails.”
This sort of bartender-patron interaction is incredibly important to Philip, who values the importance of communication with his customers. “Our waitstaff is great, but sitting at a table isn't the same as sitting at a bar. At a table, when someone comes to take your order, you know he's going to leave. When you're sitting at the bar, you can really have a conversation with the bartender. I just wish we had a bigger bar.”
Philip also says it's important to talk to your clients because judgments based on appearances can be deceiving. “For example, you don't look too old. If you walked in, I'd think, this girl likes rosé. But for all I know, you could like the strongest rye whiskey sazerac.”
When I asked Philip about food and drink interaction at Mayahuel, he flinched. “Well, look. A lot of places these days offer pairings, maybe fifteen foods, ten drinks. And that's bullshit. Most of that stuff doesn't really go together. I don't like to drink while I'm eating, not even wine. But I think it's a little better here at Mayahuel, because it all comes from the same dirt.” He is, of course, referencing the Mexican theme featured in Mayahuel's extensive list of cocktails and dishes.
One food/drink interaction Philip praises is spicy and savory, as evidenced by the number of spicy drinks on Mayahuel's menu. He also feels that white wine goes well with food, because it delivers a neutral taste.
In terms of what Philip thinks about the growing number of New York City cocktail bars, the restauranteur couldn't be happier. “Granted, a lot of them don't do a great job with their cocktails, but I think the number of places popping up is phenomenal. When PDT first opened up, people would come into Death & Company and say, 'oh, PDT, that's your competition,' and we could be like, 'PDT are our friends!' Good bars make good customers for other good bars.”
Before I left, I asked Philip for some other mezcal-tequila bar recommendations. He mentioned The Pastry War in Houston, and Tommy's in San Francisco. And of course, there's his beloved Pare De Sufrir in Guadalajara. I made Philip take an obligatory selfie with me. In a quizzical voice, he said, “I thought selfies weren't cool anymore!”
Philip lives in Brooklyn with his girlfriend and their cat, a hungry tyrant named Ralph. Visit Mayahuel at 304 E. 6th Street, New York, NY 10003.
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