The Centenario Plata swiftly became an "open" bottle. At my house, the designation means it's a bottle that's open for whoever to have as much as they want. When it comes to bottles like these, I don't dislike them, but I certainly won't miss them. 

While I'll paint a more vivid picture of why the Centenario Plata failed to move me, I should explain first that this bottle has a genuine "deal." And, as a dyed-in-the-wool geek when it comes to alcohol, a good story is often reason enough to slap some money down on the counter and see how things work out. 

Most plata or blanco tequilas are clear, whereas this one is... yellowish. "A-ha!" you exclaim. "Then the tequila must have been aged longer!" And indeed, you'd be right. It's aged for 28 days in a French oak cask, making it about a month shy of what it would need to legally be called a reposado. 

I like the idea of what they were going for in the Centenario Plata more than what they actually achieved.

In essence, the Centenario Plata is trying to split the difference and create a middle ground between two different taste profiles: the freshness and vibrancy of a blanco tequila, and the easy-going, rounded nature of a reposado. That all sounds superb on paper. 

After drinking it, I like the idea of what they were going for more than what they actually achieved. I can tell it's a blanco through the cooked vegetable-heavy profile of the agave. That's not a bad thing when you double down on the freshness of the plants and vegetables. However, 28 days is just enough aging time to bring in butter and vanilla, which are typically reposado hallmarks. Unfortunately, I don't think the two profiles blend gracefully.

Imagine having artichokes with whipped cream and you'll get a hint at the kind of confusion that lurks in the finish. The experience isn't bad at all when you roll it around in the mouth, but the aftertaste of this stuff makes it hard to really become excited about having another sip.

To its credit, the Centenario hasn't been an outright disappointment when I've consumed it as uncritically as possible. The sorta-sweet, sorta-vegetal profile comes through in faint waves that lends some interest, and it's been soldiering on for the past few weeks in the role of a bottle that spaces out my good stuff as I write or watch TV.

Overall, it's a cool package and a noble experiment in the grand scheme of tequila. I just don't think the final result is all that delicious or interesting.

Nose: Pretty weak, but thankfully lacking the reek of cheap ethanol. I detected some vanilla, green pepper, and burlap through a bit of diligence.
Taste: Decent, but confused. Canned pineapples and a brown butter sauce with a supporting cast of bell peppers.
Finish: A little disappointing, as I'm left with a strange combination of sweetness and plant-borne bitterness.
Misc: 40% ABV, matured a bit longer than most Blancos in French oak.
Price: $25 or so.
Overall Rating