Author Neto Vargas Mendoza is head of distillation at Cuatro Volcanes Destilería in Tlaxcalteca.
In the contemporary world of cocktail culture, the “50 Best” list stands as a symbolic beacon—for many, the highest expression of international excellence. And yet, as Eduardo Galeano once warned, behind every “success” lies a story that is rarely told. In the bar world—like in so many other creative industries—reality tends to be far more complex and nuanced than the spotlight suggests: a landscape where talent and omission coexist, where rigor meets spectacle, and where deep challenges unfold alongside untapped opportunities.
Let us begin with exclusivity. In its pursuit of defining “the best,” the list risks becoming an elite club where access is limited and visibility tightly concentrated. In that process, many genuine artists of the bar are left out—professionals whose talent, technical discipline, and creative sensitivity do not always align with the circuits of power, promotion, or narrative that currently dictate relevance. The result is a scene where it seems only a few are entitled to shine, while others—equally deserving—remain in the shadows. It is an uncomfortable paradox, one that calls for more than automatic applause: it demands a critical and honest examination of how the contemporary notion of excellence is constructed—and who it ultimately serves.
Then comes the enduring tension between quality and price. In more than a few cases, inclusion in the list operates as a golden pass that legitimizes disproportionate price increases, often at the expense of the experience itself. Prestige becomes a convenient alibi—an unspoken justification for exclusionary pricing that bears little relation to the actual value of the cocktail in the glass. In the process, a fundamental truth of the craft is lost: a bar, before being a showcase or a temple, is a social space. A place where creativity, hospitality, and authenticity should be accessible to most who approach the bar—not only to those who can afford the cost of an inflated narrative.
That said, it must also be acknowledged: not every bar on the list has fallen into the trap of exclusivity as spectacle. There are places—few, but luminous—where the extraordinary coexists with the everyday without apology. Bars where a premium cocktail is served with care, but where there is also room for a simple beer or a glass of pulque—fresh, honest, and unpretentious; where luxury is not about closing the door, but knowing how to keep it open. These spaces understand something essential: the true spirit of a bar does not live solely in the price of a drink or the rarity of a bottle, but in conversation, in music, and in the noise of shared life. In times when sophistication is often mistaken for inaccessibility, such places remind us—with a quiet, almost radical humility—that genuine hospitality does not exclude: it invites. And in that invitation, simple yet powerful, the bar becomes what it was always meant to be.
And then there is uniformity—that silent enemy of creativity, often disguised as an international standard of quality. In a world rich with artisanal distillates, liquid terroirs, and a biodiversity of flavors far too vast to fit on a single menu, the list continues—alarmingly often—to circle around the same industrial brands. Bacardi, Johnnie Walker, Don Julio, 400 Conejos: omnipresent names that, through the force of marketing, attempt to position themselves as cultural symbols—even as “Mexican” products—without truly being so. Beneath that surface lies a deeper, less glamorous contradiction: not only are we speaking of spirits that are often mediocre from a sensory standpoint, but also of brands that have faced legal challenges for misleading labeling claims—presenting themselves, for instance, as 100% agave tequilas while allegedly incorporating significant amounts of industrial alcohol. All of this unfolds while the cultural, technical, and creative richness that defines countries like Mexico in the realm of spirits is largely ignored—almost dismissed. That innovation exists. It is vibrant, restless, and radical. Yet, paradoxically, it happens far from the spotlight, outside a narrative that seems increasingly comfortable repeating itself.
Allow me a brief but necessary aside: Mexico offers a powerful lens through which to understand this paradox. Nowhere else in the world is such a vibrant revolution in distillation unfolding. Small producers are reimagining ancestral techniques; distillers are experimenting with ancestral corn, exotic native fruits, cacao, chiles, spices, wild botanicals and herbs—crafting spirits that carry deep stories of land and culture. It is truly a restless, bold, radically creative scene. And yet, much of this innovation rarely finds its way onto the menus of many bars celebrated by global rankings. Instead, the same industrial brands appear again and again, repeated as though the world’s diversity could be reduced to a handful of labels. The irony is difficult to ignore: while the narrative of modern cocktail culture celebrates exploration and experimentation, some of its most influential showcases seem to keep reaching for thune very same shelf. Perhaps the true spirit of this liquid era is unfolding elsewhere—closer to the land, to the field, to the still—far from the comfortable glow of prestigious lists.
Finally, the issue of social and cultural inclusion can no longer be treated as a footnote. When certain bars—shielded by the prestige of a ranking—choose to engage almost exclusively with a homogeneous audience—white, foreign, or affluent—a profound fracture emerges between the hospitality they claim and the one they actually practice. This preference not only diminishes the human experience of the bar, but also disconnects it from its own context, relegating the local consumer to a secondary, almost decorative role. Instead of functioning as living platforms for the promotion and evolution of spirits culture within their own countries, many of these spaces adopt an aesthetic of exclusion that confuses aspirational with inaccessible. Perhaps true sophistication today lies not in polishing marble or raising prices, but in looking beyond the shine, opening the door with honesty, and recognizing that authenticity—like most things that truly matter—is often much closer than we think.
One more clarification is worth making. The “50 Best” list changes remarkably little from year to year, and this text does not intend—nor would it make sense—to analyze or compare each bar individually. This is not an audit, nor an attempt to judge individual trajectories, many of which deserve genuine respect and recognition. The intention is different: to look at the forest rather than each tree; to observe the climate that has formed around the system that celebrates them. To point toward certain trends and practices that seem to be taking root across the industry—patterns of homogenization, of marketing elevated to dogma, of inflated narratives that sometimes replace the craft itself. What is perhaps most striking is not that these contradictions exist—every industry has them—but the silence that often surrounds them. A curious silence in a sector that otherwise prides itself on creativity, critical thinking, and reinvention. Perhaps for that very reason, it is worth naming them. Not to diminish enthusiasm, but to deepen the conversation.
Ultimately, the “50 Best” list functions as a mirror—brilliant, influential, but inevitably imperfect—of the complexity that defines today’s cocktail world. This essay, written from the personal perspective of a Mexican distiller, does not seek to dictate truths or claim authority, but to open a necessary dialogue. A dialogue that invites us to reconcile prestige with authenticity, visibility with responsibility, and recognition with a genuine commitment to the craft. Because beyond lists, rankings, and spotlights, the true greatness of this industry still resides in the talent of bartenders, in the cultural diversity that nourishes every bar, in inclusion as a principle—not a strategy—and in an honest creativity that, when exercised with care and awareness, remains the true protagonist of this liquid art.
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