(Photo: Diageo)
For every smash hit like Casamigos or Fortaleza, a dozen tequila brands have tried and failed to make their impression in a crowded market. Sometimes it's a simple combination of bad timing and luck. Other times, the juice just isn't up to snuff.
It's easy to assume that these discontinued tequilas would fade into the annals of spirits history. Or at the very least, disappear from liquor store shelves. Though many brands have met this ugly fate, a small handful fall through the cracks into a new genre entirely their own. A world where aroma and taste mean little to the desires of die-hard collectors in search of rare, so-called "unicorn" bottles.
Today, we'll take a look at six discontinued tequilas that occupy this anomalous category. From a cult-favorite coffee liqueur to a failed tequila-rum hybrid, these retired releases live on in the hearts of enthusiasts taking a sip from the past.
Nowhere else will you find a discontinued tequila that's inspired quite as many think pieces, viral tweets and petitions as Patron XO Cafe.
The liqueur was first introduced in 1992 to acclaim from club-goers worldwide. Made from a blend of tequila and Arabica bean coffee, the drink was the antidote for a time before espresso martinis. Positive word of mouth catapulted the liqueur to a household name, quickly inspiring spinoffs like the cocoa-flavored XO Cafe Dark and chile-infused XO Cafe Incendio. All cost a mere $35.
The party came crashing down in 2021 when Patron President Mauricio Vergara declared a pivot toward premium offerings. Whatever that meant (some have speculated it was due to agave shortages), fans were none too happy to hear the news. Tearful obituaries implored readers to "drop everything and stock up on Cafe Patron"; an unsuccessful petition racked up nearly 4,000 signatures. Expectedly, this was also the point that bottles began inflating from under $40 to nearly $200.
In a rare win for the community, Patron listened to feedback and returned XO Cafe to market on April 1 this year. Many assumed it was a gag. Lo and behold, a limited run of bottles has slowly begun trickling back onto shelves, though supplies are reportedly not expected to last.
Few remember that "Prince of Pop" Justin Timberlake launched a tequila venture back in 2014. Alongside a handful of other lowlights from his career, this one might be best forgotten.
The pitch was simple enough. Sauza 901, named in honor of the singer's hometown area code in Memphis, was a triple-distilled 100% agave tequila marketed for nighttime and celebratory occasions. Clocking in at just $30 a bottle, it was set to compete against budget-friendly picks like Jose Cuervo and Herradura. Timberlake hit the press junket, showed it off in promotional videos and sat back as the profits began rolling in.
And then... radio silence. Though Sauza 901 has never released sales figures in the decade since its launch, a steady stream of behind-the-scenes news has spelled out its gloomy fate. The brand's social media presence was quietly wiped sometime in the late-2010s. Earlier this year, a "friend of Justin" told In Touch Weekly that the singer was disappointed in the tequila's "niche" status compared to the likes of George Clooney's Casamigos. The comparison highlights the brand's biggest hurdle — Sauza 901 preceded the current celebrity tequila trend by a good three years.
To be clear, Timberlake's agave spirit has not officially been retired from production. Rather, all branded mentions have been scrubbed from the Internet, it has disappeared from brick-and-mortar liquor stores and virtual resellers are hawking bottles to the tune of $170. We'll let you do the math.
Years before the genre-defining launch of its 1942 expression, Don Julio's splashiest release on the market was simply dubbed Real.
The bottling was aged three to five years in American white oak barrels, technically making it one of the first-ever extra añejos. However, as the category was still a decade off from being formally recognized, boxes of Real bear the slightly inaccurate "Añejo" descriptor.
Beyond its historical significance, this is a fun one to check out for its dated aesthetics. Place it next to Don Julio's current extra añejo offering, Ultima Reserva, and you get an idea of how far sensibilities have come. Real's decanter revels in the short-and-stout silhouette that defined tequila for Americans throughout the late 90s and early 2000s. There's something distinctly Y2K about its flashiness, especially when compared to slender skyscrapers like 1942 and Clase Azul that have defined a new generation of expensive bottlings.
That novelty value carries a hefty price tag at resale, more so than any other mention on this list. Prices for Don Julio Real range from $1,000 to nearly $4,000 based on your collector's outlet of choice.
Roca Patron is the rare example of a distiller foraying into old-school technique before retracing its steps. In hindsight, its untimely cancellation is one of the most mysterious in the industry.
The Roca lineup was introduced in Silver, Reposado and Añejo varieties in 2014. At the time, the distiller had grown synonymous with the burgeoning popularity of pricier top-shelf tequila. Roca was designed as the next step up. Agaves used in the release were crushed with a volcanic stone tahona, placed in wooden fermentation vats and bottled between 42% to 45% ABV. All the juicy buzzwords that agave nerds seek out in 2024.
Spirits writer Christopher Null dubbed it the "artisanal version" of a "ritzy" classic. The sentiment was echoed across reviews of the time, most of which recognized it as an improvement over the standard Patron lineup. How it improved the formula, however, had yet to be properly articulated to the public. Words like "tahona crushed" and "additive-free" meant little to the average consumer, limited instead to niche enthusiasts hoarding brands like Fortaleza and El Tesoro. Why drinkers should pay more for a seemingly insignificant difference didn't add up. In short, Patron was riding in the right lane at the wrong time.
In light of Patron XO Cafe's recent return, we wouldn't be surprised to see Roca make a comeback.
Blockbuster Video, MySpace, Blink-182 and the iPod Classic. All things you may have encountered in a trot around the early 2000s.
Behind the bar, tequila was very much an up-and-coming category, yet to surpass whiskey or vodka as one of the fastest-growing spirits in America. Most consumers recognized tequila best inside a neon green margarita, or perhaps with a chunky salt rim that did away with more objectionable flavors. We'll call this the "pre-premium" era.
Amid the fray emerged Bacardi Ciclon. Far from a typical Bacardi release, the product reportedly contained 90% gold rum, 10% reposado tequila and a non-descript extra few percentage points of natural lime flavor. Its black and gold label screamed debauchery. Its $14 price tag, meanwhile, was destined for 20-something consumers who didn't ask too many questions about the specifics.
We never had a chance to try this one in its heyday, so forgive our surprise when we began reading rave reviews online. Wine Enthusiast gave Ciclon a 90 at launch, commending its "tart perfume of fresh-squeezed lime" and "dry, herbal" palate. Reddit users tell a similar story with less emphasis on the flavor and more on the college shenanigans.
Nowadays, expect to pay $100 or more for the guilty pleasure.
Love it or hate it, every Cuervo release leaves a permanent mark on tequila history. The distiller's significance is so great that even mundane bottlings become coveted collector's items in the years after their cancellation.
Black Medallion, a one-liter añejo that originally retailed for around $20, is no different. Marketed as the brand's "Signature Blend," the unusually dark tequila was aged one year in charred oak barrels. From its look to its maturation process, it's clear that the liquor was intended to appeal to bourbon drinkers wary of agave spirits. An ad campaign featuring cool guys starting moodily at the camera capped off the overall vibe.
We won't waste time getting into reviews on this one; they probably didn't matter much at the time, and they certainly don't nowadays. Ironically, it's probably the same people giving Black Medallion a 0/10 score on social media that are willing to cough up its current $100+ asking price. At a certain point down the liquor rabbit hole, rare bottles transcend taste and any semblance of good reason.
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