About a decade ago, a friend of mine had a year of magical drinking. He'd been through a rough patch, moved home to Southern California, and taken up residency at a local tequila bar. Not really much of a drinker, he'd usually just read and people watch. A single drink would last him the afternoon. "Wait, so you just sipped tequila?" I asked him. "At first," he said. "And then I discovered mezcal."
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