If you love Cachaça set it free
There’s something quite fascinating about the extent to which many cachaça enthusiasts talk about how exclusively Brazilian cachaça is. And it’s true, cachaça uses many Brazilian woods in the aging process. But, it’s still a sugarcane spirit. Sugarcane spirits are produced all over the world. Whether a sugarcane spirit is made in a particular place is immaterial if it’s not quality.
And to be clear, as I’ve spoken about at length before, cachaça is a very regional industry. Though there is one major online purveyor, most cachaça made in small distilleries is consumed close to where it was made. It’s not as though every region values every other region’s style of cachaça—so the perception of quality changes, often by geography.
For those at the cutting edge of cachaça culture, this is what makes it unique. And indeed, its diversity IS what makes cachaça unique.
But because cachaça does extremely poorly on the international scene in terms of sales, there remains a defensiveness about it, as though the product itself needs someone with a sword and shield rather than many people who are interested in consuming it. Part of the problem is that the biggest sellers are not great distilled spirits. Everyone knows that. The most prominent advocates know that. And they also know that those big sellers aren’t going anywhere. They will remain representative of the category, even at home.
So, what can be done about this situation? How can a product that struggles with self-image become successful internationally if it doesn’t consider itself worthy?
“if you love something, set it free.”
More valid words could not be applied to cachaça. The problem is that the cachaça cannot open itself up to the world. It has to be about itself. It must focus on proclaiming its Brazilianness. Indeed, the effort to make all Brazilians love cachaça is fascinating. Not all Americans love Bourbon. Not all Irish love their whisky. Not all Scots love their whisky. Yet, chest-thumping patriotism often accompanies cachaça discussions.
I’m in a WhatsApp group in which participants discuss cachaça, and at least once a week, there is a declaration that cachaça is better than whisky. Why this matters or why people need to state it repeatedly has never made sense to me. It’s as though they need to convince themselves because they certainly aren’t convincing others.
The largest spirits companies in the world bought up much of the best-selling cachaças. And they’re happy to make money off Brazilian domestic sales. But, internationally, beyond some help getting cachaça distinguished from rum in the US, they haven’t done much. They’re not advocating hard for more cachaça consumption abroad, particularly that created by small distilleries because cachaça is a competitor to other spirits, one which has the potential to outmaneuver their current line-up of products.
Does Diageo want Captain Morgan’s to lose market share? Does Bacardi want its namesake to lose its market share? Of course not.
On the other hand, cachaça is not like mescal, though many Brazilians want to conceive it that way. But because of mescal’s popularity in the US, many people seem to believe that cachaça can follow in the famous and expensive Mexican spirit’s footsteps.
It’s like everyone is waiting for the call to come in from some all-powerful spirit master that will make cachaça a superstar. The problem is, it hasn’t gone for a tryout.
A blogger colleague from Ireland reached out a while ago. He said he’d gone to find cachaça at a regional liquor store, and all he could find was Pitu. He wasn’t impressed. I assured him that most people would never drink a shot of Pitu by itself if they had an alternative.
As Dirley Fernandes of Devotos da Cachaça said when I interviewed him, if people could drink quality cachaça, they would like it. Yeah, no kidding!
Up to this point, individual brands have tried their luck at international fame with limited success. With about one percent of production exported, it’s hard to say whether particular brands are selling well. As a whole, at least in the US, the rum category, of which cachaça is a part, is in decline.
So, besides the five or so brands in the US, how will people get their hands on cachaça? How will they “discover” something that’s been around for five hundred years? Well, it’s not going to be through traditional means. Yet it won’t be through clandestine, mescal-like smuggling either.
Part of the answer needs to be about intention. The ethos of getting wealthy off of cachaça is undoubtedly understandable. But the focus really should be on making great products and talking about them. That’s it. Don’t wait for superstardom, but also don’t settle for not being recognized. Communication matters and I think anyone who’s reading this knows that very little communication about cachaça is happening outside of Brazil.
If you’re producing the best possible products and talking about them? Well, then things can start to happen. But if you’re waiting around to get discovered? Well, you might be waiting for a long time.
Brazil and Brazilian culture are at the core of cachaça’s story, of which more should be discussed and which has to be part of any communication. But let’s be clear, cachaça in and of itself, without words, is its own form of communication. It is art.
And as an art form, it should appeal to the senses as well as emotions. It should have its own creation story yet still stand on its own. Focusing on the art and talking about the art will take cachaça places.
Just keep plugging.
