First off Jon, can you tell me a bit about your background, where you’re originally from?
I’m an Essex boy originally. I was born out in the countryside but grew up in Upminster, the east end stop of the District line. It’s suburban London where young families used to move for the easy commute into town and the decent schools. The school I went to was originally an all boys school in Bow, but it had relocated to Upminster and was mixed by the time I went. Part of the conditions of its move to suburbia was that it would continue to take a quota of kids from inner London. I kind of gravitated to the London crew and spent a lot of my youth bouncing up and down the District line and hanging out in Hackney and Camden. Of course I also grew up and went to school with plenty of kids from the bits of Essex completely removed from London. Growing up, I always had a feeling of not quite being a proper London east ender, but also not quite being an Essex boy. I suppose arguably I got the best of both.
Can you talk me through your early career trajectory?
Growing up where and when I did, and going to the school I went to (The Coopers’ Coborn & Company School), if you didn’t have pretty clear aspirations of what you wanted to do with your life, there was one obvious place to get a job – the city. I had gone to university in Bath to study Economics & Politics, but I didn’t last long there. I was too restless and eager to travel. Much, much later in life I had an ADHD diagnosis, which explains a few things! Anyway, I left university with a plan to earn enough money to spend a year travelling. Back then, in the early 2000s, it wasn’t hard to land a very junior city job if you were reasonably smart. But when I say junior I mean junior – I was doing the filing.
I spent a couple of years working my way around the back office of this little bank. To my surprise I really enjoyed it. I picked up all the different parts of the operation pretty quickly and became pretty well liked among the small team. But two years in, as my friends were entering the final stages of their degrees, which I’d left behind, I realised the whole point of me being there was to earn the money to travel. I had the cash by that point, so I handed in my notice and headed for South East Asia where I spent a year on the road having the most incredible experiences.
So what did you do after returning from your travels?
Well I landed home without any money left and was quickly told by my dad to get out and find a job. My old boss at the bank wanted me back, so back I went to the back-office. After another year or so I was offered a junior position in the front office as a trainee treasury dealer. I took the required exams to be qualified to give financial advice and be authorised to trade, and by 2008 I was the banks go-to dealer for its high net worth clients.
Anyway, that was 2008, so not long after I had become a fully qualified dealer, the credit crunch and market crash happened. So I was one of the people (a tiny cog in this enormous system) who sat there facilitating the trades that I came to see as increasingly problematic. Big banks and institutional investors were offloading the toxic debt, while pension funds were getting hammered and people were starting to lose their houses. I started to see the system as fundamentally flawed and corrupt. It all felt so unfair, and I could suddenly see what was really going on, from a kind of inside perspective. The bankers had taken too much risk and they broke the economy. We needed a revolution. But we didn’t get one. Instead, the banks got bailed out and no bankers were personally punished. But loads of ordinary people suffered. As it happens, one of the institutions to suffer was mine – the credit team had held onto bad debt from an Icelandic bank (you may remember Iceland as a country essentially went bankrupt) and the bank lost millions. It was bailed out and bought out by a bigger bank, and I was made redundant. By that point it couldn’t come quick enough for me. I didn’t get paid out much at all. But I wanted out by then.
With the city behind you, what did you decide to do next?
I took my experience and attempted a poacher turned gamekeeper move, and took a job at a financial newswire, writing the headlines rather than trading them. I thought it might be the stepping-stone I needed to build a long-held dream of a career in journalism or writing. Alas, a while into that I was struggling to get over the fact I was still getting up before 6am and still tethered to a desk watching multiple data screens, but I was earning half the money. At this point I made a rash move back into a sales role – recruiting financial risk managers would you believe!
After a while, I was tasked with setting up my own sales desk, one focused on financial risk in the European Oil & Gas market. By this point the Brexit vote had happened, and I was very much in two minds about starting up a sales desk focused on a European market we were about to exit. I needed a holiday, so I chose to go see a friend who was travelling around the world at the time, and happened to be going to Mexico for Day of the Dead.
Is this how your passion for mezcal came about?
Yes, from this holiday in Mexico in 2016. I knew basically nothing about mezcal before then. In fact I knew nothing about tequila, or any other spirits really, and I had zero connections or experience in the drinks industry.
I was having such a lovely time on this Mexican holiday, that I actually called my boss at the recruitment agency from a hammock on a beach in Oaxaca and told him I didn’t think I could start that euro risk desk. He very generously offered to keep me on the payroll until the end of the year so I could have time to make the right decision. So my one-week in Mexico turned into three months of travelling around Oaxaca, bouncing between the city and the beach. I made a few friends in this time and was really drawn in by the Oaxaca art and party scene.
Of course on this trip I was introduced to mezcal. I drank it in town and at parties, but I also went out on a trip to see artisan production. This was with a guy called Alvin Starkman who owns a business called Mezcal Educational Tours. The first palenque (mezcal distillery) I ever went to was that of Felix Angeles in Santa Catarina Minas. If you know that town and that producer, you know how extreme that experience is from an industry perspective – it’s as handmade and small scale and as sought after as agave spirits get.
I believe this is an important point of how my perspective and my ideas differ from the industry as a whole. I accidentally parachuted in to the extreme end of ancestral micro-batch production – a place that it’s possibly more common to journey to after spending some time enjoying tequila or working as a bartender and having these things introduced to you. I’ve still never even been to a tequila distillery.
How did that visit effect you?
I was blown away by what I saw and what I tasted. But it wasn’t just about the taste of the liquid. It was witnessing the artisan nature of it, and the way it’s made at a scale that was sustainable and in harmony with its natural environment and community. It was another way of life and one that felt so desperately lost at home.
When did you see the business potential?
It was when I got back from that first trip to Mexico. As a Londoner I was arrogant enough to assume we already had everything. So I just went out looking to drink some mezcal. That’s when I realised the reason I knew nothing about this stuff before is because there was basically none here. Any that was here certainly wasn’t being served in an inspiring way that did any sort of justice to what I’d just seen and felt part of in Mexico. I thought I could do it better than what was happening at the time. Although shout out to Melanie at Quiquiriqui – she ran a little Mezcaleria on Hackney Road that closed before my time, but sounded great. As grandiose as it sounds, I felt like London and the UK needed some of the influence of these small and harmonious communities. I thought if everyone could see what I’d seen, if everyone could have some more respect for what they consume, my home could be a better place.
Why did you decide to call the business Sin Gusano?
It literally translates as ‘without worm’. The whole thing about worms being in bottles of mezcal as a macho thing or a marketing ploy all seemed a bit daft to me. The name was supposed to be synonymous with ‘no gimmicks’, ‘no bullshit’, just amazing mezcal. Of course it’s not lost on me that insects play a significant part in Mexican and particularly Oaxacan gastronomy. But the original format of the project was a pop-up tasting room and taqueria, and at the time the name with the word ‘sin’ in (for non Spanish speakers) just sounded kind of fun. I liked that it almost had a double meaning.
It turns out I’m a bit obsessed with double or even triple meanings with the subscription arm of the business, the Mezcal Appreciation Society, shortened to MAS, which also means ‘more’ in Spanish, as well as being a Catholic sermon – almost as if we’re preaching the good word of mezcal. I guess multiple meanings and arguably over-complex concepts reflect part of my personality!
What sets apart the mezcal you import from others on the market?
It’s no exaggeration to say that over the last eight years I’ve spent half my time in Mexico. I’m actually a card holding Mexican resident now. I’ve spent countless hours on the road all over the country, crossing rivers, breaking hire cars, being towed out of tiny communities, sleeping on hard concrete floors, etc etc. all in search of exceptional mezcal. I personally feel rejuvenated from the time I spend in these remote communities that are so different from my home in London.
Most people entering this business, and who are not as personally head over heels for the product and the journey and the place and the people as me, would find a producer, potentially via a local fixer, and ask them to upscale their production and probably ask them to sign an exclusivity contract, so the brand owner can have a decent quantity of a product to send to market. For me that approach was just fundamentally at odds with what I find exciting about mezcal. To be honest it didn’t even occur to me at the time. I was just running with a passion for something that inspired me.
I guess it’s because I had no existing connection to guide or influence me, no investors, no role model, no playbook, I just built Sin Gusano in the way I thought could best showcase the incredible liquids and stories I was finding on the road and that is no doubt unique.
How would you describe your relationship with its producers?
Some of the producers Sin Gusano works with I would consider genuine friends, especially the ones we’ve been visiting the longest. The ones I turned up to randomly in a car I’d hired from the city and asked if I could try some mezcal. I would have bought just a litre or two at the time. And over the last seven to eight years I’ve returned regularly to buy a little more each time. But I also never ask to buy everything, or for anyone to sign any restrictive agreement. These are small family operations and before I came along they would generally have just been selling to a local market. I’ve always been very conscious of not wanting to disrupt that harmony – although I’m aware that my presence at all will have some effect. The ones I’ve been returning to for the longest, we’ll generally eat together, hang out. On a recent trip some wedding photos of the producer and his wife came out. We stay in touch and I look forward to the visits immensely. Of course it remains commercial. I know when I visit I’ll be buying a new batch of something incredible, and they know they’re going to get a nice payday. But I’m really proud of those relationships and believe the producers would say the same.
How has the business evolved since its inception?
It started as the pop-up tasting room in 2017 in Gillet Square, Dalston. In 2018 the same concept became a residency in Haggerston for almost the whole year. You could definitely argue that Sin Gusano started what people now seem to be calling the ‘mezcal mile’. In 2019 we did a final pop-up in Soho. Between running the pop-ups I was doing one-off tasting events at partner venues, offering in depth tastings with a presentation and samples of things I’d brought back from Mexico with me. I also made ends meet in the early days by using my old city connections to book corporate events. I was going to offices and doing mezcal tastings as kind of team building events.
By 2019 I thought I might as well stick a label on some bottles and try to sell them at the same time as a pop ups, so that was the start of the Sin Gusano brand. I quickly realised I wasn’t going to get many bottles out of a batch as some of this stuff we’re sourcing is so rare than there’s literally only 50 litres ever made. Also, each batch is different – even if you go back to the same producer and ask for the same thing, a seasonal variation will be present. So I came up with the subscription club. It’s the opposite to the model of selling a consistent product to wholesale buyers. Instead I’m attempting to monetise the inconsistency, with a small direct to retail club of members who appreciate the batch-by-batch difference and look forward to the new and different thing coming next. It seemed to me the most honest way to represent these amazing liquids while also attempting to turn a profit.
What made you decide to open up Sorbito, a permanent, physical space for the mezcal?
It’s been on the cards for some time, and may have happened sooner if it wasn’t for the pandemic. I like to host. I like to see people enjoying the space I’ve created. And I think it’s important to set a vibe and to be able to offer context around these spirits. The tag line of Sin Gusano is ‘it’s more than a drink’. I think mezcal is better enjoyed with a little story telling. Not necessarily verbal. But that’s why we have the in-depth web pages behind the QR codes on the Sin Gusano bottles. You can read all about them and see lots of pictures while drinking. The tasting room is also full of evocative pictures to give context to the tasting experience.
Why the name Sorbito?
It means ‘little sip’, which is how we think mezcal should be consumed. With the original pop-ups the concept was to offer flights – we literally wouldn’t sell customers a single mezcal, they had to be bought in flights of three, with the idea being that I thought there was more chance of someone finding something they liked, or at least being turned on to the idea that agave spirits are incredibly diverse.
The flight concept has become much more widespread since then, so I wanted to do something different with Sorbito. I thought the experiential and self-driven journey of the Enomatic dispensing machines would be fun. I’ve always enjoyed using them in the wine places they were originally designed for. With the machines the smallest pour is 10ml – that’s the Sorbito – and customers can pop in for a few of those.
In fact, for £30, which is the initial top up for the tasting card used in the machine, a customer can get to taste at lease ten different agave spirits and not just the Sin Gusano brand, but other excellent examples besides. In other places selling mezcal of this quality in London, £30 might get you a single glass. So in reality, not many people are buying it. This is a radically different model that actually gets people experiencing the high-end liquids. And if customers like their sorbito, they can buy a full measure to drink in house, or get a bottle to take away.
What can a visitor to the tasting room and bottle shop expect?
The most interesting selection of agave spirits in the country with tasters of spirits you genuinely can’t find anywhere else. Staff are on hand to help guide if that’s wanted or just nice vibes for anyone who wants to be left alone. It’s becoming quite a hot spot for dates actually – we’ve put a lot of thought into the fit out and the feel and lighting and all and it’s being appreciated by customers.
On the slightly busier days customers end up meeting and chatting at the machines. Ironically the machine service model actually increases customer interaction and conviviality in the room, which was by design. All of the 16 bottles on the machines are numbered, and it’s really gratifying to overhear people who have never met before start to say to each other ‘ you have to try number 7’ for example.
Why did you choose to open in Stoke Newington?
It’s where I live. Also, as discussed above, Sin Gusano arguably kicked off what’s now become known as the ‘mezcal mile’ with our first pop-ups back in 2017. With the other great Mexico-focused businesses that have opened on the mile since such as Corrochios, Doña and Hacha, it made perfect sense for us to be here.
Finally, where would you like to see your business in five years time?
Profitable and thriving with a little less load on me personally. 2025 has been intense to say the least!
Sorbito, 178 Stoke Newington Road, London N16 7UY