We return from the streets of Alamos, Sonora, feet-weary but not ready to put to bed the spirits that have taken hold of our bodies. Throats dry, we reach for a drink. A bottle  of tequila mysteriously lands in our hands.

With the wild celebrations of the Festival Cultural Alfonso Ortiz Tirado still ringing in our ears, we twist open  the bottle of Murmullo Anejo, a surprise gift from host and Hacienda de los Santos owner Jim Swickard.

Forget the lime and salt; this tequila is best drunk  straight, to be sipped, according to Jim, who also teaches tequila appreciation  classes. So, amidst shared snifters, we savor each drop, exchanging stories that  this smooth elixir, and intoxicating town, somehow extract from us. And in  between raised glasses, we listen to the almost hushed souls of Alamos, sidling  past in the gentle breeze, in the rustle of the leaves.

We are told the following evening, that tequila is not  a nighttime drink, that traditionally, it is drunk during the earlier hours of  the day. But what we discover is that perhaps there is no right or wrong way to  consume Mexico’s most well known beverage. Perhaps it is simply a drink to be shared  and savored amongst friends, anytime, anywhere.

Although being in Sonora does have its advantages.

“Sometimes the tequila outside of Mexico is different  to what’s on the label,” says Jim, whose collection of over 400 bottles of  tequila ranks as one of the country’s largest. And contrary to popular belief,  there is no worm at the bottom of a tequila bottle.

It is not until the end of our journey that we are  told of Bacanora, an even stronger, pre-colonial agave-derived liquor unique to  the state of Sonora. But that’s okay. Sitting by the warmth of a fire, on this  cool Sonoran night, we promise ourselves, and the ghosts, that we’ll be back

They say the way to a man’s heart is through his  stomach. Over four days in Sonora, Mexico, I lost my heart three square meals a  day.

At first, attempting to curb my normal  enthusiasm for new cuisine, I tried to resist the allure of the local  gastronomy, approaching each bite with a coolness normally reserved for a first  date. But with each passing morsel, I felt my guard slip further. So by the end  of our first day together, I was unable to contain my love of all tastes Sonoran.

Sure, I’d flirted with Mexican cuisine before: a  burrito here and there, a taco or two, the odd quesadilla, and arguably the most  un-Mexican of Mexican dishes – nachos. But for the most part, Mexican food  remained a mystery: a cuisine well known, but largely unrealized.

It wasn’t until I landed in Sonora, and lifted  the veil of that first tortilla, that I began to understand what Mexican food was  really about. Yes, there are beans, there is cheese, and there are more forms  of corn than you could poke a Taquito  at. But there is much, much more.

Upon introduction, at the El Agave Café, I gush  over the green and red salsa, which with the creamy guacamole, comes as a  precursor to nearly every meal. Served with a smooth bottle of Pacifica (beer),  this is followed by a fiery tortilla soup (a red chili and cheese broth),  smoking-hot enchiladas (flatbread rolled around a filling and covered with a  hot pepper sauce) and a sweet coconut flan. Not a bad first date.

Then,  less than 24 hours later, we find ourselves sitting down for breakfast, where  traditional refried beans, Huevos Mexicanos (eggs scrambled with salsa) and chilaquiles (Mexican bubble and  squeak) accompany fresh fruit juices. So much for taking it slowly.Later that day, on a walk through the town of  Alamos, I am introduced to the local markets. Here, churros, coyotas (cookies  filled with brown sugar) and sweet pastries – some served from the back of a pick-up  truck – vie for the business of cashed-up, sugar-hungry children. I opt for the  potato chips, doused in fresh lime juice and chili sauce.

Over the next 48 hours, I am seduced by everything  from a light green chili soup to tostadas (a Mexican open-faced ‘sandwich’),  from chile relleno (stuffed peppers) to chimichangas (a deep fried burrito).  But my favourite dish, the one for which I fall hardest, is the tamales (a corn-based  dough, steamed in banana leaves).

And then, with a heavy heart, and full stomach, my journey through Sonora is suddenly over.

But as I overlook the Gulf of California from the village of San Carlos, with tasty tamarind margarita in hand, I realize that this is a love affair that will linger on.

For more information on Sonora, and Mexico,  visit: www.visitmexico.com.