La Planchada is a modest taqueria in Prescott, Arizona, about 100 miles north of Phoenix, and its owner, Skyler Reeves, has a plan: pour lesser-known Mexican spirits to get customers off their phones. The 2,000-square-foot restaurant seats 50-60 people and serves 70-80 spirits, mostly Mexican, with a couple of whiskeys, vodkas, and gins for inclusivity. The program focuses on sotol, raicilla, and bacanora, the lesser-known options Reeves loves.
Reeves pours half an ounce each for groups and asks them straight: do you like it, do you hate it, is it interesting, is it boring, is it gross? All five answers are fine, he says.
Spirit Offerings
The core of the program is the lesser-known spirits. Sotol comes from a desert spoon plant, not agave, and Reeves describes it as funky, cheesy, and almost rotten tasting. Raicilla is another agave spirit from Mexico, and Reeves buys one bottle of a cool, weird raicilla to put on the shelf as an extra special thing that the occasional person really appreciates.
Reeves says the variety of flavors in the agave space is much greater than in vodka, gin, or whiskey. He can go from a funky sotol to a buttery, oaky, vanilla añejo tequila in one pour. The contrast is the point.
He also rotates popular brands into staff training to keep everyone educated on the big movers. Every week, the staff focuses on one tequila, mezcal, or raicilla, usually something obscure, though popular brands get their turn too.
Engagement Over Screens
Reeves believes customers want more engagement from the staff. He says people are eager to get off their phones, whether they are on them or not. If someone’s eyes wander around the restaurant, they either have a problem or they want to chat.
His method is simple: offer something unusual. There is a blue cheese flavor that comes through a lot with sotol, and Reeves will hold a clear bottle of liquor and say, “This one tastes like blue cheese.” Everyone turns their head sharply because the last thing they are thinking is that a clear bottle of liquor will taste like blue cheese.
He also gamifies it. “Hey, do you guys want to try this mezcal? I love it, but Emily over there, she hates it,” he says. That perks people up, and it shows that it is okay to not like something or to like something that someone else does not like.
Not everyone is on board with trying spirits that taste like pungent cheese. But if they are, “You open that whole world to them.”
The Carne Asada Reality
Carne asada tacos and house Margaritas are how La Planchada makes its money. There is nothing wrong with that, Reeves says. But he wants to offer more than a straightforward menu.
When a regular customer comes in, he might say, “Hey, look, we’ve got this new product.” He pours their group half an ounce each and talks about it. He tries to emphasize that just because something is expensive or popular does not mean you have to like it, and just because it is cheap or you have never heard of it does not mean you do not like it.
The approach gives the restaurant a point of distinction. Reeves can buy one bottle of a cool, weird raicilla, have it on the shelf, and call it an extra special thing that the occasional person really appreciates.
The Numbers
| Category | Detail |
|---|---|
| Location | Prescott, Arizona, about 100 miles north of Phoenix |
| Size | 2,000 square feet, seats 50-60 people |
| Spirits | 70-80, mostly Mexican, with a couple of whiskeys, vodkas, and gins |
| Training | Every week, one tequila, mezcal, or raicilla |
The numbers are modest. The ambitions are not.
What We Make Of It
La Planchada is a small taqueria in a small city, and its owner has built a spirits program that rewards curiosity. He pours things that taste like cheese and rottenness, and he asks people what they think. He encourages honest reactions, and he respects all of them.
That is the point. The restaurant is not competing on price or convenience. It is competing on attention. Reeves says people want to get off their phones, and he offers them a reason to look up.
Most customers will still order the tacos and Margaritas. Reeves knows that. He said it himself. But the ones who do not are the ones who find something new. And that is the whole game.
The sotol and raicilla are a point of difference. Reeves buys them because he loves them, and he pours them because he wants his guests to share that love.
It is a small gesture, but it is a generous one. He is offering his passion as a service, and he is doing it in a place where many people just want a straightforward meal. He knows that. He said it himself.
Source material: “How La Planchada uses lesser-known Mexican spirits to engage its customers,” Nation's Restaurant News.
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