Oaxacan Food Summary

One of the best parts of going on the road is the food; no matter where we go -- Scotland, France, the Caribbean -- we always look forward to every meal. David OG can practically recount every single voyage we've ever taken simply by remembering what we ate ("Don't you remember that time in Edinburgh? We had haggis and then you got that sampler plate that had those amazing oysters.") For me personally, Mexican cuisine is what I look forward to more than anything, so the chance to travel through Oaxaca was really exciting, simply because I would get to eat at least a few times while I was there. Food and booze go hand-in-hand; therefore, I think it only appropriate to share some of the experiences I had on this last trip. Above, you can see Jake and Jose talking to a Oaxacan cheese vendor about her delicious, oh-so-salty queso.

Directly behind Mina de Real distillery is a restaurant called La Herencia. It's been there for about five years and the family that runs it is close with Boni and his sons. You just need to step out the back door, and take the bridge over the small river to get there.

At the end of the path you'll come into a clearing and see the small house that contains the dining room and kitchen.

A wood-burning oven is fired up at all times for baking bread and tortillas.

The kitchen opens directly into both the dining room and the courtyard, letting in the breeze from outside and the natural light.

Our own Nicolas Palazzi got to fulfill his lifelong dream at Herencia: to have his picture taken with a live rattlesnake while flashing us with "Blue Steel."

After some home-baked, crunchy corn tortillas, salsa, and bites of Oaxacan cheese, we were served sopa de verdolaga: a stew made with pieces of pork and local green vegetable that looks kind of like a thicker parsley, but tastes more like green beans. Very simple, very good; especially with a cold beer and a glass of Don Amado.

Next was the beef and black beans platter. With this course, the owners brought out their own pitcher of mezcal and began pouring tall shots of self-distilled espadin. "Even with the distillery next door, they're doing their own distillation, eh?" I asked Jake, rhetorically.

We couldn't eat too much at La Herencia because Jake and Jose wanted to stop at one of their all-time favorite places on the drive back to Oaxaca de Juaréz: the house of Doña Mary. "You've never had a quesadilla like this before," they told us as we got out of the car.

What makes Doña Mary's quesadillas so special is that she and her ladies make everything there right on the spot: the cheese is made fresh each day, the tortillas made to order from masa, the fresh squash blossoms picked right out of the backyard, and the mushrooms foraged from a field behind the building. And let me tell you something: those mushrooms are out of this world.

Kwasi was kind enough to pose for a quesadilla close-up: big, thick corn tortillas, soft, salty Oaxacan cheese, sautéed mushrooms. Now you just need to pile on the salsa and you're in heaven.

We gorged. All we did was moan and groan in delight the entire time; not allowing ourselves to pause long enough for any actual words to come out.

When you're driving as much as we do on the road, you've gotta stop and refresh yourself every now and again. Jose spotted a coconut stand by the road and had the local kid scoop out the soft meat, marinate it with lime juice, and sprinkle on hot chili seasoning. You wash that down with fresh coconut water, of course, by chopping off the top and popping in a long straw.

You've also gotta stop for tacos as often as possible. Jose got the crispy cheeks (and a beer despite the fact it was 9:30 AM).

We even met up for meals with other producers! Judah Kuper from Mezcal Vago lives just outside the city, so we called him up and had him meet us on the main zócalo for a plate of chapulines (fried grasshoppers) and a few beers. So what if the grasshopppers came with a deep-fried chile relleno, a pile of Oaxacan cheese, and a giant tortilla smothered in beans?

That concludes the food section of the trip. There were a few other memorable meals, of course, but you can't be taking pictures all of the time. Sometimes you've gotta put the camera down, order a cold beer, and just enjoy yourself.

-David Driscoll


Jalisco: Day 4 - Jesus-Maria & Arandas

Good morning! 

As I once learned from my father-in-law, there's nothing like birria for breakfast after a long night of drinking. The Mexican soup made from stewed goat and red chili is a favorite of his, and now mine as well. We rose from our first real night of slumber at Enrique's house, threw our bags in the car, and headed down into the town of Atotonilco El Alto for some serious goat action; the soft and tender meat falling apart in our mouths as we dunked corn tortillas and drank Coca-Cola (or beer, even at 9:30 AM). Enrique said he would meet us later for lunch, so we departed and headed north, even further into the mountains, to visit the town of Jesus-Maria and the El Paraiso distillery that produces ArteNOM's 1580 blanco tequila.

What was once known as Rancho El Olvido and NOM 1079 is now known as Rancho Sagrado Corazon de Jesus (the Ranch of the Sacred Heart of Jesus) and goes by the NOM number 1580. The decision to switch the NOM number had to do with a desire to distance the distillery with brands it was no longer doing business with, even though the ownership and tequila remain the same. There are all kinds of liberties distilleries can take with NOM numbers besides filing for a replacement, so you can't depend on them for everything -- even the basic principle they're supposed to represent: where the tequila was actually made. For example, you can use one NOM number, but still purchase tequila from another distillery, mix it in, and never be forced to list that on the label. If you think every drop of Patron is actually made at Patron distillery, well...

Just to make sure I'm up front with you here: El Paraiso makes what is my absolute favorite tequila in the world! I was super-pumped to finally get up into the mountains and get a look at what makes this tequila what it is: the high-elevation agave. As you drive up to the distillery, along the long dirt road extending from the highway, you can see the expansive campos and the vibrant red soil, rich with iron and magnesium.

And then you finally get to see them up close, at the distillery, being hacked up with an ax and fed into the oven. The piñas are incredibly small compared to the agave we saw at the other distilleries, but the flavors are incredibly concentrated as a result. Jake told me he's never seen piñas that look and taste like this anywhere else; it's part of what makes this tequila so special.

Some of the guys working on site pulled one out of the horno and let us rip off a piece. We chewed the fleshy, fibrous pulp and released the intensely-sweet juice into our mouths. The smell of fruity, roasted agave permeated everything at El Paraiso and reminded me almost exactly of the aromas emanating from my bottle of ArteNOM 1580 blanco sitting at home. You know you're at a great distillery when the actual product tastes as good as the distillery smells; it means they're distilling with supreme skill.

The fermentation at El Paraiso takes place in large stainless steel vats, but the entire operation is pretty compact; as Jake said to me, "this is the most boutique distillery we work with in Jalisco." It's a small, but efficient operation.

Just across from the tanks are the five operating pot stills -- three wash stills (which they call destrozadores) and two copper spirit stills. The entire production is all snuggly fit under one roof.

Everything about NOM 1580 is picturesque and beautiful; it's definitely where the romantic idea of a colonial hacienda and serious tequila distillation embrace in passionate, love-filled outpouring of emotion. Or maybe that was just me. The house next door is filled with antique furniture and photos from the olden days of production in Jesus-Maria.

The red soil of Los Altos extends down the hill from Jesus-Maria and into the town of Arandas: a mecca for Highland tequila production that includes Cazadores and La Alteña -- the home of Ocho and Tapatío. We made the short trip in no time at all, pulling into the Feliciano Vivanco distillery; the home of ArteNOM 1414 reposado.

Sergio and Jose Manual Vivanco are quite popular these days. Besides the ArteNOM reposado, they also make the entire line of Siembra Azul tequilas for David Suro and the lovely Gran Dovejo tequilas that we love so much at K&L. There's a reason why people want to work with these guys: their tequila is amazing.

As Sergio Vivanco talked about in my interview with him last September, part of what makes the Vivanco tequilas so special is their yeast production and fermentation process. They actually plant citrus trees along side their agave fields so that the pollen will drop down and spread onto the agave leaves; encouraging the cultivation of natural airborne yeast in the campos. When the agave is harvested, they scrape the leaves and collect the residue in a petri dish where they then begin a strain for fermentation. 

Vivanco distillery ages most of their spirit in used Jack Daniels barrels, adding a soft and subtly-sweet touch to their wonderfully delicate reposado expressions. We tasted their Viva Mexico brand at 38% and found the reposado to be the best of that portfolio as well. It seems Jake and Jose knew exactly what they were doing when they selected the ArteNOM 1414.

After lunch it was time to head back into town and meet up with Enrique and Chava one last time before we left for Guadalajara. Chava brought more cheese with him!! If that wasn't enough, we were eating at the spot in Arandas known for the best carnitas in the area. 

We said our goodbyes, piled into the car, our bellies full, and made our way back west, through the beautiful valleys of the Highlands, and into the sprawling metropolis. We're lodged up at the hotel downtown, finally catching our breath after what has been a whirlwind, four-day tour through Mexico's most famous spirits-producing regions. I've got a few more photos to post before we're all said and done, but we'll be home early tomorrow morning to enjoy a Sunday back with family and friends.

-David Driscoll


Jalisco: Day 3 - La Tequileña - Part II

While Enrique Fonseca's distillery, La Tequileña is in the town of Tequila, his agave fields and barrel warehouses are located in the Highlands region, near the village of Atotonilco. After spending the morning touring the distillation side of Enrique's production, we drove the three hours east into the mountains, past the 5,000 foot elevation point, and into the fields of agave known for their incredible terroir.  

As we looked over the balcony, into the hillsides of Atotonilco, we felt the cool breeze against our faces; a marked difference from the sweltering heat of the Lowlands and the town of Tequila. It's this temperate climate that helps the agave to ripen more slowly, to create better sugar levels, and to make the most delicate tequila possible. Much like the best wines are often made with mountain fruit, there are many who feel the best tequilas are made with mountain agave.

The cooler breezes of the higher altitude also affect how the tequila matures in barrel; which is why Enrique stores most of his aging stock at his home, rather than at his distillery. He has more than 20,000 barrels of Tequileña spirit in wood; hence, why we were able to choose so many different expressions for our Fuenteseca blend. The fact that he has a cooler warehouse in Atotonilco has a lot to do with why his tequilas can withstand so much time in barrique.

Enrique has much more than just a beautiful home with loads of tequila, however. He raises all kinds of different animals, like cows, pigs, various crops, and one of his biggest passions: roosters! Luis, the son of one of his assistants, loves coming to the hacienda to play with the birds.

Enrique also loves to cook, so he invited us to have dinner on his veranda, overlooking the mountains and his agave fields in the distance. It was absolutely magical and the food was exquisite.

He heated up the grill and threw on fresh-picked green onions from his garden, carne asada, house-made chorizo (from a combination of beef, chicken, and pork), and various other vegetables.

It was all absolutely stupendous. The real surprise was Enrique's cousin, Chava, who lives next door and is an artisanal cheesemaker. When I say "artisinal" I mean that he's won "Best Cheese in Mexico" for three years running. He gets invited to Italy and France each year to judge competitions and lend his advise. He brought a plate of his freshest stuff and we all went wild. It felt like an Anthony Bourdain episode where he's hanging out with someone important, until that person's friend shows up and does something even better. Is there anything this family can't do?!

I've never eaten so much cheese in my life. All of his selections were better than anything I've ever tasted in France; even with all the cheese I've eaten on our trips to Armagnac. As I type this right now, there's an ice chest in my hotel room with four of his best cheeses resting until I can pack them in my carry-on.

As we continued to devour Chava's creations, Enrique got up and came back with two impressive looking tequila bottles. It took me a minute before I realized that one of them was the famed Del Dueño Jerezito -- the now-legendary Oloroso-aged añejo. We sipped it slowly with the cheese, and Chave busted out Cuban cigars. I wish I smoked cigars because it sounded like a good combination. The quality would have been lost on me, however.

We sat and talked for hours until it was time to finally call it a night. Enrique and Chave had plenty of guestrooms for us to use so it was a short walk to our beds; thank goodness.

-David Driscoll 


Jalisco: Day 3 - La Tequileña - Part I

Enrique Fonseca's family has been growing agave in Jalisco since the 1880s; each new generation learning how to cultivate the plant in the fertile soils of the Highland region. Today Enrique, from the fourth generation of Fonseca farmers, is the largest private owner of agave in Jalisco. However, while most of his holdings lie near his amazing hacienda near the town of Atotonilco, his distillery is on the complete opposite side of Guadalajara in the town of Tequila -- a three hour drive from where he lives. Purchased from Bacardi in the late 1980s, La Tequileña Distillery isn't the most romantic-looking distillery, but it is one of the best-equipped. With five pot stills and even a large column still (on which he does distill tequila; making him the only producer I know of to use one for quality spirits), Enrique is cranking out high-quality distillates using many strategies that set him apart from other tequileros.

While there are plenty of other tequila distilleries with column stills, very few of them (if any) use the still for anything beyond neutralizing their agave spirits at super-high proofs. A column still is a great way to make green, unripe agave taste like flavorless, odorless, burn-free "tequila." Enrique, on the other hand, uses only one or two plates in the column and makes delicious, peppery, and slightly vegetal expressions with the equipment left by Bacardi. The still itself is an experimental model that allows him to play around with different proofs. Up until this point, I had no idea that column stills were even allowed in tequila production; the main requirement is that it be double-distilled. 

Getting to sample the different distillates right off the stills was one of the most amazing parts of the tour today. The high-proof pot still tequila was almost like white whiskey -- fruity and expressive, yet entirely tangy in a way. The column still tequila was intensely spicy. Neither tasted like I expected them to. "These are the spirits that go into the incredible Purasangre and Cimmaron tequilas?" I asked completely shocked. "They're still very tender as we just distilled them," he said to me, "We need to wait a few more weeks for them to settle." I also learned that, like our friends down in Guyana, most of Enrique's expressions are marriages of both pot and column still, which prompted me to mix both together and sample the result. "Ah," I exclaimed, "that tastes right." It's amazing to think that the ancient Fuenteseca we mixed a while back likely has both distillates within it.

What else sets Tequileña apart from other distilleries? How about the fact that Enrique uses autoclaves for ovens? "That's kind of controversial," I said, "because people see the idea of pressure cookers as accelerators, a way to get more in less time." To which Enrique smiled and said, "Yes, David, but we only use it on the lowest level (under 1.0 atmospheres), to create the longest possible cook." It was never Enrique's idea to use these steel containers, but much like with the column still, if they came with the distillery and they work, why not use them? As long as you're making tequila the right way, who cares what the equipment looks like?

And what does that statement even mean: to make tequila the right way? It's tough to know unless you're aware of what many other distilleries are doing that, to me, constitute the wrong way; like adding glycerol to the final product, creating an artificially-smooth mouthfeel. Like adding urea into the fermenting wash, accelerating the yeast to convert the sugars at a more rapid pace. Like the now commonly-practiced technique called diffusing: a process introduced by the big boys that moves the agave along a conveyor belt while hot water is sprayed along the top, basically liquifying the important contents of the agave and eliminating the need for roasting or steaming. The liquids are simply collected, cooked, fermented, and distilled without all that chopping, shredding, or baking. You can make a lot more tequila that way, but of course it will taste like…well.

Enrique uses a patented, self-engineered screwpress (which I cannot show here as Enrique is protective about this proprietary technique) to essentially squeezes the juice out of the agave without the need for shredding or mashing -- processes that can easily strip essential sugars from the juice. What that means is that while other tequila distilleries are getting 6-8% ABV out of their fermento (or wash, or mosto), Enrique is putting his into the still at 15% ABV due to the extra sugar. He ferments only in large stainless steel tanks, allowing him to control the temperature and create a long, slow process to obtain that extraordinary percentage.

Yet another aspect that separates Tequileña from the pack are Enrique's various maturation vessels. He uses large foudre-like, wooden vats to age some of his reposado expressions, and he loves to experiment with different wood-types. Legend has it that he created a special, limited-edition tequila for William Grant back in the day that used Oloroso sherry butts.

Perhaps the thing I love most about Enrique, however, is his penchant for fun over stuffy booze behavior. He is such an interesting, well-rounded renaissance man that you would think he'd be above something like drinking his delicious Purasangre blanco out of a lime with spicy fruit seasoning on top. But he isn't. This man owns land all over Jalisco, is a renowned architect, a supplier of various meats, and a scientist developing new kinds of homeopathic treatments from his many agricultural projects. He's like a real version of the Dos Equis "most interesting man in the world.

-David Driscoll


Oaxaca: Day 2 - Mina de Real

Now that we're all aware of Bonificio's family history and his legacy of mezcal production in Santa Catarina Minas, let's talk a little bit about the distillery itself. The Real de Mina distillery was built by Boni's father and grandfather with two clay pot stills and a roasting pit located outside. Up until 2006, when Jake and Jose decided to partner with the family, the mezcal was only sold locally within the village; there was never any serious commercial production. Jake has known the Arellanes family since 1988 when he began studying mezcal as a teenager in region and visiting different producers all over Oaxaca. The spirits of Santa Catarina Minas were his favorite, and ten years later he thought about turning those mezcales into a business. His partner Jose began helping the distillery financially in 1995; sending money to help with repairs in the infrastructure.

Jake and Jose's ownership and financial dedication to the distillery marks a huge contrast from other mezcal brands sold in America who simply contract their production. Many expressions found today in the states are simply purchased from the locals (for a very inexpensive price), repackaged, and sold in boutique stores with authentic-looking labels (for a not-so-inexpensive price). I have a lot of respect for the dedication these guys have shown to Boni and his family, as well as the development of the region. The relationship is so strong that several of Boni's children have gone to Oakland over the last decade and lived with Jake and his family. This is not merely a capitalistic opportunity for Jake and Jose; it's become part of who they are as people. Jake's passion for Mexican cultural is part of what drew me to him four years ago. Our mutual love of the country and its people is part of what bonds us as close friends today.

Today, after a bit of remodeling, the distillery is a more functional and streamlined operation; although there's not much of a difference other than the fact that they've added a bit of modern technology (like an oven and one computer to send emails). All distillation is still done in clay pots, heated underneath by fire, and condensed in a second pot by a stream of cool water that runs from a pipe over the top. There are four stills currently in operation (two located outside) at Real de Mina.

After the agave is harvested, it is hacked into large chunks by machete and thrown into a pit lined with large stones placed over hot coals. The pile of piñas is covered with a mound of leftover fibers from the previously-spent agave and then topped with a large canvas tarp to keep the heat in. When the sugars have been sufficiently concentrated, the agave is fed through a custom-designed shredder (a proud personal accomplishment of Jake's) that was engineered to efficiently breakdown the tough, fibrous pulp without stripped the meat of desirable sugars. While the old burro y tajon is the more rustic and romantic way to crush agave -- the round stone wheel drawn in a circle by a horse or donkey -- it results in a greater loss of precious azucar. 

While the agave used for Don Amado mezcal is roasted in the outside fire pit, the agave used for Mina Real is steam-cooked in an internal oven built by Jake a few years ago (with advise from Carlos Camarena in Jalisco). Much like with Islay whiskies, the smoky flavor of mezcal has become the hot booze trend over the last few years, giving the category a much-needed boost against its more refined cousin, Tequila. Jake, however, has spent the last decade trying to temper the smoke from his mezcal and focus more on the flavor of his agave. "You wouldn't add a smoky flavor to wine," he said to me recently, "because it would mask the delicate flavors in the grape itself." He has other motivations besides terroir, however. When Boni's wife passed away eleven years ago from lung cancer, after working in a smoke-filled agave pit for most of her adult life, Jake had a revelation. "Some of these people are being poisoned by all of the smoke being put into the air around here. When Boni's wife passed it was the first time I really felt like smoke was the enemy, and it inspired me to find an alternate way to cook our agave."

The flavors that result from the two different processes are quite striking. The piñas roasted in the pit taste almost like barbeque sauce, with a smoky, tangy, meaty flavor with lots of sweetness. We chewed several pieces to release the juices onto our palates. The piñas steamed in the internal oven have a much fruitier flavor, and the texture of the agave itself afterward is quite different as well. The agave has almost the texture of a papaya or guava, and the sweetness is much less dominant. The contrast between these flavors represents the main difference between the delicate character of Don Amado and the more savory profile of Mina Real.

Fermentation for both expressions takes place in the twenty custom-built pine washbacks. There are no chemicals added during the wholly-natural process, and no distiller's yeast is introduced to the pulque. Fermentation happens organically after about two days when the local strains of airborne yeast eventually find the sugary-sweet liquid and begin feasting upon its many delights.

One part of the spirits process that I always have something to say about (although I've learned over the years to keep my mouth shut) is the label design and marketing aspect of each brand. While I never really hated the original Don Amado label, I was thrilled when I saw the upgrade that Jake and Jose came up with recently. It's a huge improvement over the old package and I think will help sales immensely when the bottles reach the states later this year. All of the bottling is done on-site at the Real de Mina distillery, as is maturation for the reposado expressions in a small warehouse behind the bottling line. 

At the moment, I'm sitting on a plane typing away while we begin our descent back into Mexico City. We've got an hour to kill before we catch the connection to Guadalajara and begin our drive east towards Atotonilco and the hacienda of Enrique Fonseca. The food in Oaxaca has been so amazing that it requires its own separate post (which I'll have to work on later), but I'll be lucky if I can pump out a Tequila write-up before sundown.

Until then.

-David Driscoll