Mezcal

26 September 2008
Many of you probably already know all this, but today I learned how to make salsa with my abuelita!! Here is the recipe that I took down as we cooked:

Salsa de Chile Pasillo- (this chile has a really nice smoky flavor that when combined with tomatoes is not very spicy. It is by far my favorite type of salsa I have ever tasted… not sure if they even sell these chiles in the U.S. but if there is a southern Mexico community nearby I think it is worth the trouble of going there and asking if they sell them. You pronounce it like “paseeyo”)
You will need:
4-6 Dried Pasillo Chiles (Pasillo Chile Seco). They are about 4 inches long. When fresh they are green, but they should be bought DRIED and when dried are a blackish dark dark red.)
1-2 cups of little green tomatoes. Not tomatillos, these tomatoes are a little bigger, but not as big as a roma. They come with a papery shell that you need to remove.
Clove of garlic.

First clean the tomatoes and then let them boil in a little pot with water that doesn’t fully cover them, just sits in there around them. Boil them until they turn yellow (about 10 min).
Then, take your chiles and break them up by hand into quarter size pieces. The seeds inside should fall out onto the plate, but some little buggers will stick to the sides which is ok.
Toast the chiles on a flat pan without oil. Stir em around for 5 min until they’re a bit crispy.
Put all this goodness (without the water) into a blender with a garlic clove or two and a tiny bit of salt. You can add salt later if not good enough for you. Pulse in the blender so it’s still a little chunky.

While making this, be careful because the aroma of the chiles can irritate your eyes. It’s deceiving because they don’t SMELL spicy… but I licked my fingers before I washed my hands and I was super duper in pain.

When I’m not making salsa with my abuelita I’m either in class or reading for class. I wish I was joking. But it’s actually been amazing. We are reading great stuff and having the most intellectually stimulating conversations, some of which have literally brought tears to my eyes for their depth, clarity and intelligence. I’m constantly in awe of my compañeras for being so bright. One book we are reading for class is called The Other Game by Phil Dahl-Bredine. It’s a narrative about a Catholic minister who lives in the Mixteca part of Oaxaca and how that experience has led him to reflect on his life in the U.S. There are occasional faults in the book from an academic perspective, but it sparks some really lively discussion in class and for that I am appreciative. For the most part, we talk about “development” and what that term implies.
For example, one question that we grapple with on nearly a daily basis is What are ALL the effects of a group of white missionaries/students/tourists/anthropologists coming into a traditional, rural, indigenous community to “help develop”? There are good things, like where there wasn’t a school before a school now stands, but there are obviously terrible things too, like promoting a westernized, unsustainable way of life to people who have survived (and FLOURISHED) for thousands of years with out this help. Missionary trips, government aid programs, and even many NON governmental aid programs will never fix the problems in Latin America. That same school that American high school students built in Tijuana, for example, probably remains empty because there are no teachers. Or because it’s too costly as an indigenous housewife to allow your children to go to school when they could be home helping. Ivan Illich, an author we have read in class, addresses this and says that the “good intentions” of the church mission trip (as just one example) in actuality only serve to make the white people feel good about themselves, so therefore this “aid” or “charity” (it goes by many names) is the most selfish act a person can make. Questions such as these are particularly riveting to me because I, as well as many of you all, have been involved in just such “mission trips.” Even SIT, the program I’m paying for runs contrary to these beliefs in a lot of ways. I’m not sure where I stand on this discussion, but I love that I’m being exposed to these ideas because they are giving me a much clearer picture of reality than I think I could ever get in Medford Oregon.

I know that came off as a little ranty, but I’ve just been reflecting a lot on it here, and I encourage you all to do the same as you hear about “international development”, Globalization, and “poverty” in the media.

On a lighter note, today I went to a palenque, or a place where they make mezcal, with Ted, Brian and Katy and my friend Gerardo who is from here. Now I’ve seen mezcal making in Mexico, wine making in Italy, beer making in Oregon, and whisky making in Scotland. The next place I visit better have a regional drink…

You don’t notice much difference between the pueblos that hug the outskirts of Oaxaca. For the most part they all have very similar characteristics: a two lane highway with speed bumps, stray dogs, and roadside stands. The roadside stands advertise “comida”, or lunch, tire changes, soft drinks, and usually some cute little artisan thing: carved and painted animals, woven shirts, rugs, or pottery. But coming into Matatlan, you can’t help but notice the additional fare. On every hand painted sign outside these tienditas is Mezcal in big, bright letters. Before you know it you reach a large sign that stretches over the highway boasting “Matatlan: Mezcal capital of the world”. Its here in Matatlan that I had the extreme pleasure of meeting Enrique and Georgina, our guides through their palenque.
Enrique’s great grandfather first started making mezcal in about 1840, and has since passed the trade down four generations. Enrique and Georgina met in school studying chemistry. While this professional education has helped them perfect the distillation from a scientific perspective, they admit they still receive advice all the time from the experts (Dad and Grandpa).
Mezcal is made from the maguey cactus, the same cactus that tequila is made from. The maguey cactus has to be between 8 and 12 years old, and then they come in with machetes and chop off all of the giant points and get down to the “heart” or “piña” of it. The piña at this point weighs around 500 lbs!!!! It’s hauled out and taken to a giant hole in the ground and cooked in there for a few days. When they uncover it the cactus is dark red and has the stringy look like pieces of wood. But it is really sweet tasting and delicious to eat. Next, they grind the chunks with this big stone wheel that is pulled by a horse named Popeye. Once all ground up it is put into a big vat and it just sits there and ferments for four days. Then, the next to last step is putting it into another underground oven, and this one has a lid that collects all the vapor coming off the ground maguey. The vapor travels through the lid, a tube, and then down a coil sitting in a vat of water which cools the vapor and condenses it to make liquid. You’re left with mezcal blanco, the strongest and least flavorful. Add a grub that lives in the dirt around the cactus to the mezcal blanco, and you get “gusano.” To make Reposado the mezcal blanco sits in white oak barrels for 4 months. To make “Sublime Añejo”, the cream of the crop, it sits in oak barrels for about 2 years.
While many tourists are forewarned about the strength of mezcal, I find it incredibly smooth and flavorful, much like a good whisky. My guess is that these tourists take a full shot all at once, which any Mexican will tell you is a terrible idea. If you pay any attention at all to the locals you quickly learn to “respect” the mezcal. You’ll be served a full shot at a bar, but you’re supposed to take it in thirds with the help of chile, salt and lime. At the palenque we sat around with our hosts and tried all the varieties, and I ate something I never thought I would eat. The gusano, or grubby wormy thingy that lives in the dirt is red when alive, but after sitting in a bottle of mezcal it turns white. People here fry up the worms and eat them all crushed up and saltified. Or, if you’re particularly adventurous (or stupid) you can do what we did and eat the worm from the bottle. Horrifyingly crunchy, the gusano tastes only of the mezcal that killed it. It was a pretty gnarly sight though seeing a bottle filled to the top with mezcal and red, pink, and white worms, then proceeding to accept a shot of that liquid. Probably wouldn’t do it in U.S., but what the heck, I’m in Mexico.
Depending on the types of wood you use in the ovens and barrels, it takes on this complex smoky flavor that totally illustrates the saying around here: “Por todo lo mal, mezcal; Por todo bien, también” (For everything bad, mezcal; for everything good, as well.)



Tomorrow morning I leave for Mexico City, or the D.F., and will be there for 8 days. We’re staying in a working class neighborhood on the outskirts with families for 3 nights, and then we’re going to the center to take in all of the museums and markets. I’ll definitely write again once I’m back.

Don’t forget to register to vote (unless you’re a republican) and, as my mom says, don’t miss the “laugh riot” that is the vice-presidential debate on Thursday night. Wish I could see it…thank God for YouTube.

Love, Dana