Agua Fresca de Flor de Jamaica 
Jamaica Flower Water
Tepache Fermented Pineapple Drink
Horchata de Melón Melon-Seed Drink
Café de Olla Coffee with Cinnamon and Brown Sugar
Champurrado Chocolate-Flavored Atole
Atole Masa Preparation of Corn for Atole
BEBIDAS Mexico is justly famous for such diverse drinks and beverages as tequila, pulque, aguas frescas, chocolate, atole, and its beer and coffee, all of which, discussed in detail later, are readily accessible to the visitor. Many of the regional drinks are much more difficult to come by. Usually made at home, they are often produced from the fermented juice of local, often wild fruits. There is the pineapple tepache of Jalisco; the sangre de Baco (blood of Bacchus) made of wild grapes from Guerrero; and teshuin, maize fermented with raw sugar from the mountainous regions of Chihuahua and Nayarít. On the coast of Colima and Guerrero, the sap from the coconut palm is made into tuba, and there are innumerable other concoctions based on sugarcane and/or flavored with wild cherries; there are the mezcales of Oaxaca; the much-esteemed baconora of Sonora; the anise-flavored liqueur made of flowers and called Xtabentún, from the Yucatán—and, of course, the world-famous Kahlúa. 8 The central plateau of Mexico, besides, is rich in mineral springs. There are small spas dotted here and there, and the thermal, therapeutic waters attract people from all over the Republic. Some of the larger ones bottle and distribute quite widely the naturally gaseous and still mineral waters.
Tequila is made from the distilled liquid of the baked and crushed, pineapple-like bases of the Agave tequilana. It is named after the small town where it originated, not too far from Guadalajara, in Jalisco, which is the tequila-producing state. The Spaniards introduced the process of distillation to Mexico, and it is generally believed that tequila was first made around the middle of the eighteenth century, although it was not until a hundred years later that it became an industry set up by two of the best-known families in the business today, Cuervo and Sauza.
There are now well over a hundred types of “boutique” tequilas, some costing more than $100 a bottle. The ordinary whites are best for mixed drinks; the pale-gold tequilas, which have usually been aged for one year, and the much heavier añejos, which have been left to mature for six to eight years, are better for sipping. There is one very special tequila, Centenario, which is brought out every six years to coincide with the inauguration of each new presidential term. The label is designed with miniature portraits of the preceding presidents. There are now many excellent books devoted to the subject of tequila.
If you are drinking tequila by itself you may wish to have an aged one, añejo, which has a very pale, gold color and more body and flavor, although I always prefer the white. The Mexican way of drinking it is with a piece of lime and some salt. Hold a quarter of a lime in your left hand and place a little salt in the well at the base of the thumb and index finger of the same hand. Hold the tequila glass in the other hand. Lick the salt, swallow some tequila, then suck the lime.
Mezcal, an alcoholic drink akin to tequila, is gaining in popularity both in Mexico itself and abroad. It is made of the distilled juice extracted from the cooked pineapple-like base of several species of agave. The main production comes from the Valley of Oaxaca, where it is still made in palenques—partially roofed areas where the cooking and shredding of the base and the distilling of the extracted liquid takes place in rustic surroundings. Mezcal produced under these artisanal conditions has a discernible, and agreeable, smoky flavor, while the more common mezcals now being made using industrial machines are more highly refined and do not have that characteristic flavor.
SERVES 1
No book on Mexican food should omit that happiest of drinks for which Mexico is justly famous, the Margarita. I have never found a better recipe than that given to me by Carlos Jacott and served in his very popular New York restaurant, El Parador, during the sixties and seventies.
Of course, the secret is fresh lime juice!
His Tequila Sunrise is another favorite, which I include next. Thanks to Carlos for so many years of great Margaritas (it deserves a capital M).
A SLICE OF LIME
A LITTLE SALT, EITHER ORDINARY TABLE SALT OR FINELY GROUND ROCK SALT
1½ OUNCES (45 ML) WHITE TEQUILA
½ OUNCE (15 ML) TRIPLE SEC
1 OUNCE (30 ML) FRESH LIME JUICE
A FEW ICE CUBES, CRUSHED
Chill a large cocktail glass well. Rub the rim with a slice of lime. Put the salt onto a plate. Press the rim of the glass into it, giving it a turn to make sure that the rim is ringed with salt.
Put the tequila, Triple Sec, lime juice, and ice cubes into a cocktail shaker. Cover and shake together well. Pour the mixture through a strainer into the prepared glass, or over shaved ice if preferred.
SERVES 1
2 OUNCES (60 ML) WHITE TEQUILA
1½ OUNCES (45 ML) FRESH LIME JUICE
1 TABLESPOON GRENADINE SYRUP
1 TEASPOON EGG WHITE
SOME ICE CUBES, CRUSHED
Chill a large cocktail glass well.
Put the tequila, lime juice, grenadine syrup, and egg white into a blender with the ice cubes. Blend the mixture until frothy and pour into the prepared glass.
MAKES ABOUT 1½ CUPS (375 ML), ABOUT 8 SERVINGS
Friends in Jalisco always said that Sangrita was originally made with the juice of sour pomegranates, but since this fruit is difficult to come by they suggested using Seville orange juice and grenadine syrup. Of course every family, especially those from in and around the town of Tequila, has its own recipe, swearing that theirs was the original.
1¼ CUPS (315 ML) SEVILLE ORANGE JUICE OR SUBSTITUTE
3½ TABLESPOONS GRENADINE SYRUP
SALT TO TASTE
A GOOD PINCH OF POWDERED RED CHILE, PIQUÍN, OR CAYENNE
Mix all the ingredients well and chill. Serve in small glasses, about 2 ounces (60 ml) per person, accompanied by a shot of tequila.
Another bullfight last evening! It is like pulque, one makes a wry face at first and then begins to like it.
—FRANCES CALDERÓN DE LA BARCA, Life in Mexico
PULQUE The landscape of the high central plateau is dominated by the impressive century plants, or magueys (Agave americana y spp.), which have provided so much sustenance to wandering tribes throughout history. Today they are chiefly cultivated for pulque, which is made of the fermented, milky sap, aguamiel, that is drawn off from a hollow scraped out in the base of the plant just before it sends up its long flowering stalk.
The sap can be reduced to a syrup, or crystallized to a sugar. Once fermented, the slightly alcoholic pulque can be used as a leavening agent for breads, to cook meats, for chile sauces, or to make a type of tepache or vinegar.
Pulque is often cured with fruits, like other drinks in Mexico, and even canned and exported.
If you happen to be traveling in the Mexican countryside after the rains in the fall and see a peasant drawing off the aguamiel with a long, thin gourd, stop and ask to try it.
It is sweetish and acidy at the same time and curiously refreshing.
Great quantities of earthenware are also exposed in the markets, and the stranger will be pleased to observe the beautiful way in which Indian women produce a variety of liquors of every colour and flavour. A vase, much larger than any made in Europe, of red earthenware resembling the Etruscan, is filled with water, and nearly buried in wet sand. A variety of flowers, principally poppies are stuck in, among which stand the glasses containing the showy colored beverages, which, with chocolate, pulque, and ices are served out for a trifle.
—W. H. BULLOCK, Six Months Residence and Travel in Mexico, nineteenth century
MAKES 4 CUPS (1 L)
Despite the tremendous popularity of commercial bottled drinks all over the country, from the capital to the smallest mountain hamlet, the red watermelon, pale green lime, or orangey-brown tamarind waters, sweetened and kept cool with huge chunks of ice, are sold from huge glass or earthenware containers in the marketplaces, by the street vendors, or in a few of the more traditional restaurants. This is one of them: acidy and refreshing, it is colored by the deep red calyx of the Hibiscus sabdariffa.
⅔ CUP (165 ML) JAMAICA FLOWERS
4 CUPS (1 L) COLD WATER
⅓ CUP (85 ML) GRANULATED SUGAR, OR TO TASTE
GRANULATED SUGAR, IF NECESSARY
Put the flowers and 3 cups (750 ml) of water together into a saucepan and bring them to a boil. Continue boiling the flowers for about 5 minutes over brisk heat.
Add the rest of the water and the sugar and set it aside for at least 4 hours or overnight.
Strain the liquid into the jug. Add more sugar if necessary. Serve well chilled.
MAKES 1 QUART (1 L)
4 CUPS (1 L) MILK
1 CUP (250 ML) GRANULATED SUGAR
4-INCH (10-CM) PIECE OF CINNAMON STICK OR 1 VANILLA BEAN
¼ TEASPOON BAKING SODA
12 LARGE EGG YOLKS
¾ CUP (185 ML) PURE CANE ALCOHOL OR RUM OR ½ CUP (125 ML) BRANDY, OR TO TASTE
Put the milk, sugar, cinnamon, and baking soda into a saucepan. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer for about 20 minutes, or until the sugar has melted completely and the mixture is reduced to about 3 cups (750 ml). Set aside to cool a little.
Meanwhile, beat the egg yolks until they form thick ribbons on the beater—about 10 minutes, depending on the efficiency of your beater.
Remove the cinnamon from the milk mixture. Gradually add the milk mixture to the egg yolks, still beating. Return to the pan and cook over low heat, stirring and scraping the bottom and sides of the pan constantly, until the mixture thickens enough to coat the back of a wooden spoon. (Take care, as it can quickly turn to scrambled eggs. At the first sign of this tragedy, pour into the blender and blend until it is smooth.) Set aside to cool completely.
Meanwhile, sterilize a 1-quart (1 l) bottle in boiling water.
Gradually stir the alcohol into the “custard,” pour into the bottle, and use immediately or store in the refrigerator up to one month for future use.
MAKES ABOUT 2 QUARTS (2 L)
One of the most refreshing drinks on a hot day is the slightly fermented infusion of pineapple called tepache. Possibly it originates, or so it is said, in the state of Jalisco, but there are of course many regional variations. It should be made, if possible, in a large earthenware jug or pot and served ice cold or over ice cubes.
1 VERY RIPE PINEAPPLE, ABOUT 2 POUNDS (900 G)
2 WHOLE CLOVES
2 WHOLE ALLSPICE
4-INCH (10-CM) PIECE OF CINNAMON STICK
9½ CUPS (2.4 L) WATER
1 POUND (450 G) PILONCILLO, CRUSHED, OR DARK BROWN SUGAR
1 CUP (250 ML) LIGHT BEER
Remove the stem and base of the pineapple and scrub the outside well. Cut into 1½-inch (4-cm) cubes, skin and flesh together. Crush the spices roughly and add them, together with the pineapple and 8 cups (2 l) of the water, to a large earthenware jug. Cover and set in the sun or a warm place until the mixture begins to ferment and become bubbly on top—about 3 days, depending on the temperature.
Put the remaining 1½ cups (375 ml) of water and the brown sugar into a saucepan and bring to a simmer. Simmer, stirring from time to time, until the sugar has melted. Let it cool slightly, then add, along with the beer, to the pineapple infusion and stir well. Cover the jug and leave in a warm place for 1 or 2 days longer, until it has fermented. Strain and serve very cold or over ice.
SERVES 1
Horchata, a milky-looking drink originally made of almonds or a small white tuber called chufa, was brought from Spain to Mexico, where it became popular in the Yucatán. There it is generally made by soaking and grinding raw rice, often with the addition of a few almonds, then straining and serving over ice. It is considered delicious, healthy, and refreshing, but what drink wouldn’t be refreshing in that heat? I had always thought it was just plain dull—but there are always surprises in Mexico.
After lunch one day at a friend’s house, I went back to the kitchen and saw that the maids were saving the seeds from the cantaloupes that we had been eating for lunch. They were going to make horchata from the seeds. Some cooks rinse, drain, and dry the seeds, but I think this is the most delicious version of all.
Scrape the center fleshy part from 1 cantaloupe, seeds and juice included, into a measuring cup, and for every cup add:
1 CUP (250 ML) COLD WATER
1½ TABLESPOONS GRANULATED SUGAR, OR TO TASTE
1½ TEASPOONS FRESH LIME JUICE, OR TO TASTE
Put all the ingredients together in a blender jar and blend until very smooth. Set aside in the refrigerator for a minimum of ½ hour, then strain through a fine strainer and serve over ice cubes.
Here are also two cloisters of nuns [in the Dominican convent in Oaxaca], which are talked of far and near, not for their religious practices, but for their skill in making two drinks, which are used in those parts, the one called chocolate and the other atole, which like unto our almond milk, but much thicker, and is made of the juices of the young maize or Indian wheat, which they so confection with spices, musk and sugar that it is not only admirable in the sweetness of the smell, but much more nourishing and comforting to the stomach. This is not a commodity that can be transported from thence, but is to be drunk there where it is made. But the other, chocolate, is made up in boxes, and sent not only to Mexico [City] and the parts thereabouts, but much of it is yearly transported into Spain.
When in Oaxaca, I love to go to the cacao grind-it-yourself place. Just a few years ago women would buy their kilos of cacao beans, and a certain quantity of sugar and almonds to go with them, depending on what they can afford—if they are very poor, then they buy fewer cacao beans and almonds and more sugar. Each woman picks up a zinc tub, which she places under one of the several grinding machines around the store. The cacao and almonds are poured into the hopper, and very soon a satiny, tacky chocolate sauce oozes out of the spout—which has been sprinkled with sugar so that none will stick and be wasted—and falls onto the pile of sugar in the tub below. The women bring with them two large wooden spoons to mix it all well, and some even have brushes so that not one speck of the valuable chocolate is left sticking to the metal. Then the chocolate is carried to another machine for a second grinding—this time with the sugar—and it is at this point that you persuade someone to let you stick your finger in and try. It is then carried home and set to dry in small molds in the sun. Alas it has now become upscale and lost its earthy atmosphere.
The subject of chocolate is inexhaustible, and certainly fascinated all the early writers about Mexico. Sahagún tells us that it was drunk only by the rich and noble, and even then in moderation, for it was thought to have deranging qualities like the mushroom. There was orange, black, and white chocolate; it was made with honey or mixed with purple flowers and served at the end of a feast with great ceremony. The distinguished men drank from painted cups, or black cups on a base covered with jaguar or deer skin. Perforated cups were used as strainers and the spoons were tortoiseshell. All this equipment was carried in special net bags.
Thomas Gage devotes a lot of space to chocolate in Travels in the New World. He tells how the women of Chiapas flouted the bishop and were excommunicated because they would not give up their comforting cups of chocolate to sustain them during Mass. Only the British seemed to scorn chocolate; when they captured a Spanish ship on the high seas laden with cacao they threw it overboard in disgust, calling it sheep’s dung.
MAKES ABOUT 1⅔ CUPS (415 ML)
The name itself is derived from the Nahuatl word xocotl (fruit) and atl (water).
The drinking chocolate of Mexico is quite different from the chocolate available here. It is lighter bodied, and it has a definite texture. Luckily, several varieties of Mexican chocolate are available here, because there is really no substitute for it.
Some people prefer to make hot chocolate with milk.
1½ CUPS (375 ML) WATER
1½-OUNCE (45-G) TABLET OF MEXICAN CHOCOLATE
Heat the water in an earthenware pot. As it comes to a boil, break the chocolate into it and stir until the chocolate has melted. Let it boil gently for about 5 minutes so that all the flavor comes out, then beat it with a molinillo or blend in a blender until it is frothy.
NOTE: If you are making it with milk, first dissolve the chocolate in ½ cup (125 ml) water, bring to a boil, and then add the milk and bring again up to a boil.
So many mornings in the early days in Mexico I was awakened by the gentle swish of brooms. Some of the maids in the street would be sweeping sidewalks, terraces, or patios, slowly, rhythmically, while they gossiped, and others scuttled into the cool morning air to bring back crisp bolillos and hot pan dulce from the panaderías. The time to go is either early morning or late afternoon, just as the baker is sending out his huge trays of freshly baked goods. You pick up a small, round metal tray and a pair of tongs and wander around trying to decide what you really want from dozens of varieties: triangulos, yoyos, kekis, suspiros, besos, yemas, among so many others. I always choose the sugar-glazed flaky campechanos, or the rich, yeasty puros (cigars), which are so good with a large glass of café con leche.
And then my mouth waters as I remember my breakfasts in the Hermosillo market. Cele’s scrupulously clean concession was always doing a roaring trade from huge pans of freshly brewed coffee and milk covered with a thickly matted skin of deep yellow cream: at intervals the baker next door would send fresh batches of pan dulce. Or sitting outside under the arches in Veracruz, where the waiter fills your glass halfway with strong, rich coffee and then taps it sharply so that its ringing tone summons with a sense of urgency his helper, who is scurrying to keep up, with a jug of steaming milk. Driving back to Mexico City, once more in the mountains, you’d stop at Córdoba—one of the important coffee centers of Mexico—to sit in a streetside café and drink a strong, fragrant brew with the smell of roasting coffee heavy in the air. Now, alas, standards of quality have been considerably diluted.
We hear very little about it, but Mexico is among the leading producers of excellent coffees. It is served in every way—Italian, Austrian, American—but a few traditional restaurants still have Café de Olla on the menu. It is served in small pottery mugs.
SERVES 1
2 CUPS (500 ML) WATER
¼ CUP DARK-ROASTED, COARSELY GROUND COFFEE
1-INCH (2.5-CM) PIECE OF CINNAMON STICK
PILONCILLO OR RAW DARK BROWN SUGAR TO TASTE
In an earthenware pot, bring the water to a boil. Add the dark-roasted coffee, the cinnamon stick, and the dark brown sugar to taste. Bring to a boil twice, then strain and serve.
There is no translation of the word atole—gruel perhaps, but that sounds so very boring and the word has long since disappeared from most people’s vocabulary.
The word atole comes from the Nahuatl, atolli (although some etymologists think it should have come from atl, water, and tlaoli, corn) and is pre-Columbian in origin. The Diccionario de Cocina published in the nineteenth century describes atoles as “very healthy and nutritious for the poor … but it is also good for invalids and well-to-do families.” I can vouch for it that atole is the most comforting of drinks when made of the correct masa and not overly sweet—which is a tendency in Mexico.
There is an endless number of ingredients and flavors for atoles, varying from one region to another, or perhaps from one village to another. Many are flavored with seasonal fruits: blackberries, wild cherries, strawberries, tamarind, or, from one village in Veracruz, Seville orange juice. In Michoacán there is one with fresh corn kernels and wild anise or the husks of the cacao bean. There is a most extraordinary atole in the Sierra Norte de Puebla flavored with orange flowers, sweetened with raw sugar, and fortified with little balls of masa mixed with lard and stuffed with cheese. There are the chileatoles, picante and sweet at the same time, and the atole of soured masa topped with toasted sesame and chile seeds from Oaxaca, while in Puebla an atole of soured masa of blue corn, enriched with beans and seasoned with a chile sauce, is served.
Atole is the traditional accompaniment to tamales, for supper or breakfast, or to drink, thin and cold, as a refreshment in the daytime. The subject is almost inexhaustible.
I am giving three here: a chocolate-flavored atole; the blackberry atole of Michoacán, made when the fruits are gathered in the higher altitudes just before the rains; and another of pineapple that I always order in Chilpancingo, Guerrero, to drink with the enticing and crisp little regional chalupas (see The Art of Mexican Cooking).
In the seventies it was rare to find little merenderos (cafés for breakfast and supper) like the Café Meléndez in Torreón. It was run by a middle-class family who made delicious tamales and simple regional dishes in the tradition of the grandmother who started the business in the early 1920s. I thought their version of Champurrado (normally made with masa) was particularly delicious, especially with the addition of the orange zest and, of course, the wonderfully rich milk of that area.
2 CUPS (500 ML) WATER
THIN ZEST OF 1 WHOLE ORANGE
4-INCH (10-CM) PIECE OF CINNAMON STICK, BROKEN UP
2 TABLESPOONS GRANULATED SUGAR, OR TO TASTE, DEPENDING ON THE CHOCOLATE
4 CUPS (1 L) WHOLE MILK
3 OUNCES (90 G) MEXICAN DRINKING CHOCOLATE
2 TABLESPOONS CORNSTARCH
Put the water, orange zest, cinnamon, and sugar into a pan and boil quickly for about 20 minutes, or until you have an infusion and the liquid has reduced by at least 1 cup (250 ml). Add the milk, and just before it comes to a boil, the chocolate. Simmer the mixture until the particles of chocolate have completely dissolved (Mexican drinking chocolate will take longer than the others)—about 10 minutes.
Put the cornstarch into a small bowl. Stir in about 2 tablespoons of the milk mixture and smooth out the lumps with the back of a wooden spoon. Add ½ cup (125 ml) more of the milk mixture to dilute the cornstarch thoroughly. Stir this into the saucepan and cook until the mixture thickens slightly, stirring almost constantly for about 10 minutes. Strain and serve hot.
MAKES ABOUT 2¼ POUNDS (1.15KG), ABOUT 4 CUPS (1 L) MASA
Traditional cooks will only use corn cooked without lime for atoles. Of course many don’t have the time and will use tortilla masa, but the taste will not be as pure. This preparation may be a little too esoteric but I give the recipe for all the devoted aficionados.
It is hardly worthwhile making a smaller quantity while you are at it, and besides, the mill does not like to grind smaller amounts. The excess freezes perfectly for several months.
1 POUND (450 G) WHITE DRIED CORN
6 CUPS (1.5 L) WATER
Rinse the corn and remove any unwanted bits and pieces, put into a deep saucepan, and cover with the water. Set the pan over high heat and bring to a boil. Lower the heat to medium, cover the pan, and cook for 15 minutes—it should cook at a fast simmer.
Remove from the heat and set aside to soak overnight. The following day, drain the corn and have it ground to a fine, very soft dough, masa.
NOTE: Since this masa is not cooked with lime it will sour quickly unless refrigerated. Any masa you are not going to use will keep for one day, but after that it should be frozen.
MAKES ABOUT 8 CUPS (2 L)
This is the most popular atole when the wild blackberries are brought down from the mountains to the market in Zitácuaro, Michoacán, in May, just before the rains start.
Some people prefer to eat or drink this atole when it has cooled and the flavor heightened. Thickness is very much a matter of taste; but this is how my neighbors like it.
This atole will keep for a day or so in the refrigerator, but I always put it into the blender before reheating.
1 POUND (450 G) BLACKBERRIES
2 CUPS (500 ML) WATER
1 CUP (250 ML) ATOLE MASA
ABOUT 6½ CUPS (1.6 L) WATER
PILONCILLO OR RAW DARK BROWN SUGAR TO TASTE
Put the blackberries into a saucepan with the 2 cups of water and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer for 5 minutes. Strain the blackberries into a bowl, pressing out as much of the flesh as possible. Discard the seeds. Set the blackberry puree aside. There should be about 3 cups of puree.
Dilute the masa with 1½ cups (375 ml) of the water. Put the rest of the water into a Mexican clay olla or heavy saucepan and bring to a boil. Add the diluted masa through a strainer, pressing out any lumps with a wooden spoon. Cook over medium heat, stirring from time to time to avoid sticking, until the mixture is just beginning to thicken—5 minutes.
Stir in the strained blackberry puree with sugar to taste and continue cooking over medium heat, stirring and scraping the bottom of the pan to avoid sticking, until the mixture thickens—it should make a thin coating over the back of a wooden spoon—about 15 minutes.
Serve either warm or at room temperature.
MAKES ABOUT 8 CUPS (2 L)
ABOUT 6½ CUPS (1.6 L) WATER
1¼ POUNDS (565 G) CLEANED AND FINELY DICED PINEAPPLE (ABOUT 3⅓ CUPS/835 ML)
1 CUP (250 ML) ATOLE MASA
PILONCILLO OR RAW DARK BROWN SUGAR TO TASTE
Put 5 cups (1.5 l) of the water into a Mexican clay olla or heavy saucepan, add 1 cup (250 ml) of the diced pineapple, and bring to a boil.
Meanwhile, dilute the masa with the remaining water and add through a strainer to the boiling water, pressing out any lumps with a wooden spoon. Cook over medium heat, stirring and scraping the bottom of the pan to avoid sticking, until just beginning to thicken—5 minutes.
Blend the remaining pineapple as smooth as possible and add to the pan through a strainer, pressing out the pulp to extract as much of the flesh and juice as possible. Stir in the sugar and continue cooking over medium heat, stirring and scraping the bottom of the pan to avoid sticking, until the mixture thickens—it should make a thin coating over the back of a wooden spoon—about 15 minutes.
Serve warm or at room temperature.