Eric Demay

Take a back street, see where it leads and you’re sure to land on an interesting sight. Old 60’s VW bugs galore, still up and running, many speeding down Mexico’s highways, with often too many passengers. The volks wagon couldn’t be a better name.

Photo taken at the corner of calles San Felipe and Mayorazgo in Coyoacan—by the way, how cool is that to have a neighborhood still called Land of Coyotes!

For some reason, Mexicans don’t spit their flavorless chewed-out gum on to the sidewalk, they diligently place it at eye level on the trunk of certain trees.

Now the real question are:

• What determines a good gum tree: its placement? Shape? Size? Bark type?
• And is the amount of chewed gums already stuck on the tree trunk a influential factor of gum collection growth (i.e. the more gums on the trunk, the more gum chewers will be enticed to place their gum on said trunk)?

Teotihuacán is 50 clicks north of downtown Mexico, a pleasant day-trip and a must if you’re in around. Now, on to today’s history lesson cliff notes:

• These [restored] pre-columbian ruins are what is left of the ancient Teotihuacán city, which, at the time, spilled approximately 30km2 around and was eventually called home to over 200,000 people, for over 700 years.
• Built at the around 200 AD, its two pyramids—of the sun and of the moon—epitomize its past grandeur. The pyramid of the sun is the 3rd largest in the world (70m high) and unlike its egyptian cousins with tombs and secret halls and buried treasures, these are basically a pile of rocks. The museum even adds: “built without the use of the wheels nor animals”. Fun times!
• Also, evidence found suggests the Teotihuacán population was of diverse ethnic backgrounds. Theoretically, these differences are also possible explanations of the internal uprising which tipped the city towards its decline and collapse (900 AD).
• Bonus: Archeological findings have also revealed a great deal of human sacrifices! Double-Fun times!

Yeah, sure, the size factor is appealing, but what to do with this dazzed popping-eye-socket rodent-like look?

If you cut an unflowered stem of a Maguey plant, take its honey tasting sap—el agua miel—and ferment it for a week or two, you’ll get a load of bubbly viscous milky-white lightly alcoholic liquid, i.e. pulque. You can drink it straight (blanco) or flavored (curado) which often includes guava, piña, coconut, celery (!) or oats (!!). Loco, I know. (By the way, if you take the same plant, cook/smoke and ferment its heart, you’ll get mescal. Not in the same order of alcoholic refreshments though.)

On top of its dainty methods of confection and short shelf life, pulque is also only served in dedicated watering-holes, aptly named pulquerias—rustic places with tired men and loud jukeboxes. But like all things odd and forgotten, hipsters seem to be all over them though. The crowd at the pulqueria we visited was mostly comprised of young urbanites, stopping after work/school, in for a few liters of refreshing slimy maguey juice.

Wondering about the peculiar interior decoration, this is clipped directly from wikipedia:

“Diego Rivera once said that one of the most important manifestations of Mexican painting was the murals that decorated the facades and interiors of pulquerías.”

So that explains it. Notice also the maguey plants on the exterior facade (very first pic). Below: Jukebox in the back, bags of oats on the counter. The buckets under the bar hold the different curado flavors which they ladle out in to your glass.

Interestingly, there’s quite a history to the drink, starting with humble mythological beginnings as goddess Mayahuel’s blood. It quickly became the religious and ceremonial drink, ritually consumed by priests and the elite of pre-colombian Mexico. Then released to the masses during the colonial period, it proved even too popular, the public drunkeness became somewhat problematic and authorities ended regulating and highly taxing its consumption. And though it regained popularity after the independence and throughout the 19th century, it lost the race to beer in the 20th, and now only counts as 10% of all alcoholic beverages consumed in Mexico today. Quite a shame for such an iconic cultural concoction, considering its roots and the necessity of cool drinks on hot summer days.

Hygiene freaks need not apply. This place even had a urinal right at the front door. Practical!

With a population of over 110 million, it is no surprise that Mexico’s most staple food, the tortilla, isn’t commonly handmade anymore¹.

But when my eyes stumbled upon this machine, making tortilla after tortilla, baking them a gazillion a minute, patrons picking up their fresh orders at the nearby counter, I was torn. Part of me was in awe: the beauty of a food making machine still fascinates me no matter how industrialized it may be. I enjoy it the same way I enjoy an elaborate Rube Goldberg machine.

However, I also felt like I was suddenly behind the curtain, watching the fraudulent Wizard of Oz operate his levers and dials, faking it all. The magic of the simple tortilla—such an essential constituent of the Mexican culinary culture—had gone, its innocence had vanished before me. Talking to a few Mexicans about it, most do feel strongly about its taste. Of them not being handmade anymore (and made using, most of the time, poor instant corn flour): “It’s just not the same. They’re simply not as good.”

So, now aware of this new duality, look around closely and you’ll notice many small restaurants or street food vendors still make their own, to the great pleasure of their patrons:

• 1. If you haven’t already, I press you to read this overview by Edible Geography of the maize and tortilla situation in contemporary Mexico amongst el Walmarts and sliced breads.

Like most taquerillas in downtown Mexico, the waiters at El Borrego Viudo (The Widowed Sheep) scribble down your order (how many tacos? refreshments?) and leave to the kitchen. They’ll then come back moments later, running out in your direction with an armful of plates, including the customary accompanying tomato salsa and fresh limes. However, at this establishment, all happens and is experienced from the front seat of your car.

It’s a drive-in restaurant. The show starts as the waiters waive you in the parking lot, indicating an available parking spot. They’ll even help you park, whistling the distance left behind you while you back up (same ritual when you leave). And between this dance of incoming and backing-up cars, is the other inflow: tacos to the parking lot. Waiters valsing through the vehicles with too many plates up their sleeves, feeding the hungry dinning drivers.