More Like a Mess Than a Dance

This bottle had my expectations high—like tuxedo-and-bowtie high. It’s Fuenteseca. It’s pricey. It’s supposed to blow your mind. Instead, I got a leather boot doing the cha-cha with an overzealous cinnamon stick. From the first sip, cinnamon comes charging in like it just snorted a line of nutmeg. Vanilla tries to show up for the duet, but gets stepped on, forgotten, and basically booed off the stage.

The flavor battle is real—and it’s not a good one. It’s like two backup dancers fighting for the spotlight and neither winning. At one point, I wrote in my notes: “Bad dancing performance—vanilla and cinnamon look like they’re rehearsing for two different shows.”

Texture? Leathery. Depth? Not much. Finish? More confusing than the final season of Lost.

And for the price? Man… this hurts. I don’t expect every expensive bottle to change my life, but I do expect it to at least land its steps.

If Bruno Tonioli were judging this bottle on Dancing With the Stars, he’d fling his arms in the air, spin around twice, and shout,
“Darling! That was a disaster! Where was the rhythm? The chemistry? The passion?”

Then he’d probably give it a “3” and mutter something about needing a drink—just not this one.

Fuenteseca, I still believe in you, but this one felt like you phoned it in while blindfolded and standing on one leg.

🥃🥃🥃 (3 Tequila Glasses)