The Yucatán is not the land of tequila. I know, because I’ve been to the land of tequila – Jalisco. And it was everything I had dreamed of – and more. But, in our travels through Mexico, we’ve discovered that there’s more to the drinks than simply the highly touted and most famous product. Even in Jalisco, for example, we sampled the local Raicilla (in addition to the tequila, of course). In Oaxaca we drank Mezcal. In Colima we drank a wide range of flavored mezcal creams, which sound hideous but were actually pretty good. In the Yucatán, though, we knew what we were after: licor de henequen.
Henequen, often referred to as Sisal in this area because of the northern port city from which it was shipped, was the main crop in the Yucatán until relatively recently. The area’s wealth in colonial times was built on henequen and, it’s worth pointing out, on the backs of the Mayan and, later, Korean slaves who picked it for the wealthy colonial plantation owners. It was an important crop because its stiff fibers were used for rope and twine. Sisal is the hemp of the Yucatán.
Recently, though, the locals have figured out a new use for the henequen – turning it into a liquor. This is the kind of creative spirit we most admire: from fiber to fire-water. Licor de henequen closely resembles both Mezcal and tequila, naturally, since the plants from which all these spirits are made are nearly identical. The main difference between tequila and the others is that it comes from the blue agave plant, distinct from the garden-variety plain old green ones. The processing for all of these Mexican liquors is also pretty similar. The pina (core) of the plant must be harvested, roasted, fermented and, later, distilled. The distinction between one product and the next is largely a terroir debate. Certain areas have distinct appellations – just like wine regions.
For an upstart, Sisal, the biggest brand we could find of licor de henequen was quite lovely. The Blanco compares favorably to a good silver tequila – although it’s not as refined, obviously, as the first-rate blue agave products. It has a slightly more viscous mouthfeel than I am expecting but is light and tangy.
It would do quite well in a margarita, of which there were, it so happened, quite a few good ones in the Yucatán. It’s a drink you associate a little more with the west coast but, since just about every restaurant in all of Mexico uses absolutely fresh citrus, even in places where the margarita isn’t a house specialty, it’s still miles above your average one in Toronto.
A mixologist could have a lot of fun in the Yucatán, with their freshness and variety. At lunch, some members of our party sipped Horchata, a lovely, light “agua fresca” made from rice, sugar and almonds. The other two main flavors for non-alcoholic pops in Mexico are hibiscus flower pop (Jamaica) and Tamarindo – a tamarind flavored pop, which they already add to Margaritas quite frequently.
What I’d like to have seen would have been a margarita made with Sisal, fresh lime, agave syrup and two drops of Xtabentun, a local liqueur made with anise and the honey of bees that have allegedly dined on the nectar of the region’s Xtabentun flowers. (Good honey is abundant in the area and, bit of trivia, we heard that they use a species of bees which doesn’t have the power to sting people.)
But back to Xtabentun, which is ever so slightly sweet for my tastes, which is why I would choose to use it as an aromatic enhancer to a cocktail or soup, in the same way that Pernod or Absinthe is often used, rather than taken straight. The only time I actually saw Xtabentun used was when I had a Mayan coffee at Pancho’s in Mérida, where the waiters served up our after dinner boozy coffee in what I would call “Blue Blazer” style, pouring flaming liqueurs back and forth from one vessel to the next as the father of mixology, Jerry Thomas did in the mid-nineteenth century.
My photos don’t do it justice, so here is a link to a You Tube video of somebody who captured the preparation in its full glory.
It was a great coffee. But the best hot chocolate I have ever had was in Mérida, so I can’t resist ordering it. The Mayans, after all, are credited with inventing hot chocolate by processing cacoa and turning it into the era’s energy drink of choice by mixing it with chile, achiote and vanilla. It was such a hot commodity that the beans were often used as currency in ancient Mayan days. Although the oldest evidence of cacoa use was in Honduras, it’s clear that Mayans in nearby Guatemala were drinking chocolate at least as far back as 2,500 years ago.
As you might expect, their chocolate is not the same as ours. It’s got a unique taste and is typically a little more dry and certainly less sweet than, say, a Hershey Milk. I spent a little bit of time in Mérida’s museum-themed chocolate shop, Ki’Xocolatl, sampling chocolate-covered espresso beans and dark chocolate bars with hot chile, instead of crisped rice. The taste isn’t entirely like the stuff we’ve had in Chiapas and Oaxaca, although this may be a result of the Belgian expertise involved in Ki’Xocolatl. I actually wind up spending more money in this store than I do in the liquor store. Not like me – but the spicy, bitter flavor of the region’s offerings is definitely my cup of tea, er, cocoa.
Anyhow, these are not the usual pleasures in which people partake on their visit to the Yucatan. Cuervo shots and Cadillac Margaritas are obviously as far as many get. I think that’s a mistake and urge people to take a shot at heading a little further past Chichen Itza on their next trip to the Mayan Riviera.
Your taste buds will thank you. Oh, and I’m pretty sure there’s other stuff to do there to – like ruins practically wherever you turn, brilliant live music and breathtaking colonial buildings – but that’s all a bit of a blur. The Yucatán is not the land of tequila. I know, because I’ve been to the land of tequila – Jalisco. And it was everything I had dreamed of – and more. But, in our travels through Mexico, we’ve discovered that there’s more to the drinks than simply the highly touted and most famous product. Even in Jalisco, for example, we sampled the local Raicilla (in addition to the tequila, of course). In Oaxaca we drank Mezcal. In Colima we drank a wide range of flavored mezcal creams, which sound hideous but were actually pretty good. In the Yucatán, though, we knew what we were after: licor de henequen.
Henequen, often referred to as Sisal in this area because of the northern port city from which it was shipped, was the main crop in the Yucatán until relatively recently. The area’s wealth in colonial times was built on henequen and, it’s worth pointing out, on the backs of the Mayan and, later, Korean slaves who picked it for the wealthy colonial plantation owners. It was an important crop because its stiff fibres were used for rope and twine. Sisal is the hemp of the Yucatán.
Recently, though, the locals have figured out a new use for the henequen – turning it into a liquor. This is the kind of creative spirit we most admire: from fiber to fire-water. Licor de henequen closely resembles both Mezcal and tequila, naturally, since the plants from which all these spirits are made are nearly identical. The main difference between tequila and the others is that it comes from the blue agave plant, distinct from the garden-variety plain old green ones. The processing for all of these Mexican liquors is also pretty similar. The pina (core) of the plant must be harvested, roasted, fermented and, later, distilled. The distinction between one product and the next is largely a terroir debate. Certain areas have distinct appellations – just like wine regions.
For an upstart, Sisal, the biggest brand we could find of licor de henequen was quite lovely. The Blanco compares favorably to a good silver tequila – although it’s not as refined, obviously, as the first-rate blue agave products. It has a slightly more viscous mouthfeel than I am expecting but is light and tangy.
It would do quite well in a margarita, of which there were, it so happened, quite a few good ones in the Yucatán. It’s a drink you associate a little more with the west coast but, since just about every restaurant in all of Mexico uses absolutely fresh citrus, even in places where the margarita isn’t a house specialty, it’s still miles above your average one in Toronto.
A mixologist could have a lot of fun in the Yucatán, with their freshness and variety. At lunch, some members of our party sipped Horchata, a lovely, light “agua fresca” made from rice, sugar and almonds. The other two main flavors for non-alcoholic pops in Mexico are hibiscus flower pop (Jamaica) and Tamarindo – a tamarind flavored pop, which they already add to Margaritas quite frequently.
What I’d like to have seen would have been a margarita made with Sisal, fresh lime, agave syrup and two drops of Xtabentun, a local liqueur made with anise and the honey of bees that have allegedly dined on the nectar of the region’s Xtabentun flowers. (Good honey is abundant in the area and, bit of trivia, we heard that they use a species of bees which doesn’t have the power to sting people.)
But back to Xtabentun, which is ever so slightly sweet for my tastes, which is why I would choose to use it as an aromatic enhancer to a cocktail or soup, in the same way that Pernod or Absinthe is often used, rather than taken straight. The only time I actually saw Xtabentun used was when I had a Mayan coffee at Pancho’s in Mérida, where the waiters served up our after dinner boozy coffee in what I would call “Blue Blazer” style, pouring flaming liqueurs back and forth from one vessel to the next as the father of mixology, Jerry Thomas did in the mid-nineteenth century.
My photos don’t do it justice, so here is a link to a You Tube video of somebody who captured the preparation in its full glory.
It was a great coffee. But the best hot chocolate I have ever had was in Mérida, so I can’t resist ordering it. The Mayans, after all, are credited with inventing hot chocolate by processing cacoa and turning it into the era’s energy drink of choice by mixing it with chile, achiote and vanilla. It was such a hot commodity that the beans were often used as currency in ancient Mayan days. Although the oldest evidence of cacoa use was in Honduras, it’s clear that Mayans in nearby Guatemala were drinking chocolate at least as far back as 2,500 years ago.
As you might expect, their chocolate is not the same as ours. It’s got a unique taste and is typically a little more dry and certainly less sweet than, say, a Hershey Milk. I spent a little bit of time in Mérida’s museum-themed chocolate shop, Ki’Xocolatl, sampling chocolate-covered espresso beans and dark chocolate bars with hot chile, instead of crisped rice. The taste isn’t entirely like the stuff we’ve had in Chiapas and Oaxaca, although this may be a result of the Belgian expertise involved in Ki’Xocolatl. I actually wind up spending more money in this store than I do in the liquor store. Not like me – but the spicy, bitter flavour of the region’s offerings is definitely my cup of tea, er, cocoa.
Anyhow, these are not the usual pleasures in which people partake on their visit to the Yucatan. Cuervo shots and Cadillac Margaritas are obviously as far as many get. I think that’s a mistake and urge people to take a shot at heading a little further past Chichen Itza on their next trip to the Mayan Riviera.
Your taste buds will thank you. Oh, and I’m pretty sure there’s other stuff to do there to – like ruins practically wherever you turn, brilliant live music and breathtaking colonial buildings – but that’s all a bit of a blur.
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