She Said No 4 Times. Now She Runs El Tesoro and Tapatio

Jenny Camarena's family asked her to come home four times. And four times she said no.

First her brother asked. Then her two sisters, who were already running the family business. Then her mother.

Jenny Camarena was an architect in Guadalajara at the time. She was happy.

But now, she’s even happier. She is CEO and master distiller of La Alteña (NOM 1139) in Arandas, Jalisco, where her family makes Tapatio and El Tesoro. She took both jobs in April 2025.

Her grandfather, Don Felipe Camarena, founded La Alteña in 1937. Next year it turns 90. Jenny Camarena is the distillery's fourth master distiller and the first woman to hold the role.

By high school, the plan was architecture. She earned the degree and went to work. "I thought that I belonged to the design and artistic part."

In 2015, her other brother came to her. Since everyone else had asked, he said. Why do you keep saying no?

She told him she was an architect. She was independent. She was living her dream.

He told her that wasn't true. Then he started asking questions.

Who bought the car you drive? One of her sisters gave it to her.

Who pays the rent on your apartment? Her mother did.

"Okay, so where is that independency?"

Then he made his point. "The reason why you became an architect, and that you drive what you drive and you live where you live, and you're living your life the way you like, it is because of this."

In the video, she holds up a glass of tequila when she gets to that line. She doesn't say anything.

What he asked for was small. "At least take the time to come back, learn, understand and then make your decision. And if at the end of the day you decide to keep doing what you're doing, I'll be the very first one to support you."

She said no to him, too. "I was really hurt and upset with him."

Later she changed her mind, mostly to make a point. She would try it, tell the family she didn't like it, and go back to architecture. She asked her boss for two months off.

He said yes. He also said she wasn't coming back. "There's no way that once you understand your heritage, you choose me over that one."

"It's been 11 years since that moment," she says, "and I really hope that he got a replacement for me, because otherwise I'll have a lot of work waiting for me there."

The people, first. "We have people that have been working with us for 40 years," she says. "They have brought their sons. A few of them already have grandchildren working here."

"If they felt that passionate about it, and they dedicated their whole lives to something, I wanted to be part of that."

The second reason was the tequila itself, and how little she actually knew about it.

"I used to believe that we only need one kilo of agave for one liter of tequila," she says jokingly. "It made sense. One for one makes sense." (Jenny has a witty sense of humor even when speaking English)

She also has a good laugh about initially thinking agave could be harvested every year, "like tomatoes." In actuality, La Alteña's agave grows for up to nine years and traditional production requires about 7 kilograms of agave for one liter of 100% agave tequila.

After thoroughly learning the complexity of the tequila process, she understood how many families and hands it takes to make a single bottle. "That's why I decided to stay."

Before 2025, Jenny ran operations at the distillery. "It was really comfortable for me because I really enjoyed it," she says. "And I really feel that I'm good at it."

"To me, the biggest decision that I have made is saying yes to the CEO role."

The CEO job meant legal responsibility, marketing decisions, everything. "Now, it suddenly feels heavier," she says. "Any decision that I make will affect not only the company or my family, but all the people that are working here."

She took it anyway. "I'd rather be scared doing it than not doing it at all."

La Alteña already had skilled distillers. So why take the master distiller title, too?

"Maybe this would sound selfish. But it's a matter of pride," she says.

She sees each generation leaving its own mark. "My grandfather's heritage was Tapatio. My father's was El Tesoro," she says. "My two brothers' heritage are Ocho and G4."

Her father's mark included an extra añejo before the category existed. She has said he called it "Muy Añejo" and was criticized for it. That idea led to El Tesoro Paradiso, aged in ex-Cognac barrels, and scored 95 points at The Tequila Report.

She wants her own legacy. "I hope that I can have that fingerprint, sooner or later, when they can say, oh, so now Jenny came up with this new profile, or with this new idea, or with this new high proof," she says. "I don't know when."

The obvious window is 2027, when La Alteña turns 90. "Maybe that would be a perfect moment to bring a few surprises with both of the brands," she says. "Nothing crazy, nothing outrageous. Or maybe outrageous, but in a good way."

She wants the anniversary to show the old-school process alongside what's coming next, including more women in the industry.

She is just as clear about what she won't do.

In volume and reach, she calls both brands small. El Tesoro's brand is owned by Suntory Global Spirits, and the family makes it at La Alteña.

"I would like to show the world what Mexicans are capable of, what a small distillery and a small family is able to make," she says. "We are talented. We are good at it. And I want to show that."

Her answer starts with women. "I'm certainly not the first one," she says. "Maybe one of the first women entering into the tequila industry in a stronger way, not only as the backup resource."

She wants to bring "confidence to the women that we are more than capable of running a distillery, being the CEO of a company."

In five years, she wants to be "louder as a female master distiller, because there are not many of us."

She expected this to be easier by now. "We are right now in 2026. But it's not easy. It's still a complicated industry. A complicated country."

The rest of her answer is about the people who make the tequila. "It's not only my achievement."

"The reason why I'd like people to remember me is because I made a difference in how they felt doing what they're doing, and how proud and empowered they felt about it."

Ten years out, she wants La Alteña to give back to the community of Arandas. Her father used to say the family is here "because of the place where we live." "What about the soil? What about the land? What about the families?" she asks. She doesn't know yet what that will look like.

She is also working on balance. "This bottle was made to be enjoyed, but also life," she says. "It's a real big difference if we are willing to live to work, or if we work to live."

Jenny's father died when she was 15. She has shared tequila with her brothers. She has shared it with her mother, who is 95. She never got to share a glass with her Dad.

Long-time tequila collector Mike Rodriguez recently gave her the chance to taste a historically important bottle of her family's tequila.

"It's not like I'm talking to (my father), because he's not here anymore," she says. "But somehow I have a reference. Somehow I know how he liked things to be made. Somehow I know his taste."

That cuts both ways. "Now I know what I should be aiming for. But at the same time it's like, what if I'm not?"

Someone once asked who she would most want to talk with, living or dead. She said her father. To hear what he thinks. Maybe even to disagree with him.

"Somehow this feels like I'm having that debate," she says. "I'm not getting the answers right back from him, but it feels like it's closer."