Over the course of my 30-year tequila journey I have tried over three thousand varieties. I’ve encountered tequilas of every kind—some extraordinary, others downright dreadful. Among the latter lies Pasion—a tequila I sampled not out of desire, but as part of the process that shaped the palate I have today. El Mante Pasion Blanco Rosas from NOM 1529 is discontinued.
Quote from the brand, “This Blanco Rosas begins a new category of Tequilas, unique to the Blanco Tequila market.” This was not an early iteration of the now-familiar Rosa tequila, where color comes from aging in red wine barrels. Instead, its pink hue came from cochineal—a pigment derived from crushed insects. While FDA-approved as a food colorant, it added little more than novelty here. Luckily for all of us their unique process never caught on.
Twelve years ago, I swore off this tequila, but curiosity got the better of me—how would it fare on a second try? Unfortunately, not much has changed.
The nose is tolerable, with a faint hint of raw agave struggling to emerge but never quite breaking through. On the palate, a whisper of agave appears briefly before being overwhelmed by a bitter, chemical aftertaste that lingers unpleasantly past the finish. The flavor profile is as perplexing as the tequila’s bright pink hue: a synthetic, fruity note that feels entirely unnatural. The finish? Mercifully short.
In the end, Pasion remains a tequila best left in the past.
Over the course of my 30-year tequila journey I have tried over three thousand varieties. I’ve encountered tequilas of every kind—some extraordinary, others downright dreadful. Among the latter lies Pasion—a tequila I sampled not out of desire, but as part of the process that shaped the palate I have today. El Mante Pasion Blanco Rosas from NOM 1529 is discontinued. Quote from the brand, “This Blanco Rosas begins a new category of Tequilas, unique to the Blanco Tequila market.” This was not an early iteration of the now-familiar Rosa tequila, where color comes from aging in red wine barrels. Instead, its pink hue came from cochineal—a pigment derived from crushed insects. While FDA-approved as a food colorant, it added little more than novelty here. Luckily for all of us their unique process never caught on. Twelve years ago, I swore off this tequila, but curiosity got the better of me—how would it fare on a second try? Unfortunately, not much has changed. The nose is tolerable, with a faint hint of raw agave struggling to emerge but never quite breaking through. On the palate, a whisper of agave appears briefly before being overwhelmed by a bitter, chemical aftertaste that lingers unpleasantly past the finish. The flavor profile is as perplexing as the tequila’s bright pink hue: a synthetic, fruity note that feels entirely unnatural. The finish? Mercifully short. In the end, Pasion remains a tequila best left in the past.