SAN SIMON TLATLAHUQUITEPEC, TL—Avid drinkers of pulque are constantly weary of the quality of their drink. True pulque has nothing to hide behind. It has no fancy bottle to impress. It has no label or clever name. It lacks, too, the rigid connoisseurship of formalized education like that of cicerones and sommeliers. But that doesn’t mean that pulque drinkers can’t tell what’s good and bad.
Pulque is the sap of the agave fermented for a day or two and then consumed. A man titled tlachiquero cuts the flower of the agave when it finally sprouts after a decade. He waits 6 months, then begins using a copper spoon to scrape the wound. He scrapes that wound twice a day, ensuring that sweet agave sap continues to flow from the flesh. Each time he visits the agave, he sucks up the sap and brings it back to his tinacal for fermentation. From the barrels of his tinacal comes pulque.
The quality of the sap, the expertise of the tlachiquero, the conditions of the fermentation, and the ambiance of the service all affect how the product turns out. But there are some established guidelines among Mexican aficionados. One of the more apocryphal beliefs surrounding quality pulque has to do with a scorpion.
Tourists and chilangos alike will encounter pulque in Mexico City. It is not worth arguing the point, but Mexico City does not have the highest quality pulque in the country. Pulquerías in the city need to buy fermented pulque from tinacales outside of the city. Because pulque ferments so quickly, the transportation from the surrounding states will already degrade the quality. The area around Xochimilco is allegedly one of the only places in the Distrito Federal that can produce fresh pulque.
On top of this, it is rumored that some dishonest folks cut pure pulque. It is one thing to sell pulque curado, or pulque flavored with sweet and savory things like oatmeal, celery, guava, or mango. This is traditional, acceptable, and transparent. Moreover, customers pay more for flavors. It is entirely another thing to sell pure pulque with additives.
There are several rumored additives that pulque drinkers are weary of when selecting where to drink. First, there is cane alcohol. For some, the natural fermentation of pulque doesn’t deliver enough of an intoxication, so pulquería owners amp up the octane by pouring in straight liquor. You can distill pulque and drink it as destilado de pulque, but spiked pulque is no good.
Second, and more subversive, is the rumor that some pulque vendors add baba de nopal to their batch. The prickly pear cactus basically grows in tandem with the kinds of agaves that produce pulque. Within the pads of the prickly pear, a thick goo exists. As pulque can be quite viscous, it is difficult to water it down without customers noticing. So, if a vendor wants their stock to go a longer way, they milk prickly pear pads for their baba or goo, blend it with water, and cut the pulque that way. This is dishonest.
Mexico City is home to 25 million people. Of course there will be those who intend to deceive for a profit. Nevertheless, a quest for quality pulque is best taken in the countryside–that is, from the source.
Besides Hidalgo, the small state of Tlaxcala is one of the most prominent pulque producers in Mexico–not necessarily in terms of quantity, but quality. The climate, the terrain, and the tradition all create high quality pulque. Word on the street suggests that Don Lázaro San Simon “El Ratón” is one of the best tlachiqueros in all of Tlaxcala.
I find my way to El Ratón’s tinacal, taking several separate combis, or shared vans. When I walk up the hill in the rural town, I find a house instead of a full blown pulquería. Still, I call out, “Hay pulque?” (Is there pulque?) An old woman emerges from a shed and guides me to a small backroom. She pours me half a gourd’s worth of pulque and leaves. I am left alone in the little room with my cup. I reflect a bit. How did I end up in this family’s backroom? A search for quality pulque, that’s how.
The room itself is cool–perfect for fermentation. There is no natural light coming in and the walls are made of earth. In the corner, several different vats hold the pulque at different stages of fermenting. When I sip out of my gourd cup, it isn’t the same pulque I have tried before.
I have had acidic, vinegary pulque in the Altiplano desert of San Luis. I have had sweet, gooey pulque at trendy bars in Mexico City. I have had thin, effervescent pulque in Tepotzotlán. El Ratón’s stuff was different.
Yes, it had some thickness, but not so much as to be mucilaginous. Yes, it had that lactic acid sour kick, but not so much as to be vinegary. Yes, it had that aquamiel, nectary sweetness, but it was incorporated into the drink perfectly. This pulque was notably well balanced. It was mindless to drink. It was also from an agave less than 100 meters away.
And the ambience…unparalleled. In a back shed of this farming town: pin-ups pinned to clay bricks, Word document generated memes referencing El Ratón, and local football teams on pixelated calendars. I had found pulque that I could call pure with 100% confidence. It tasted great.
After I had a gourd, two local Tlaxcalteco men came in from the city to drink pulque. They were surprised to see me, but confirmed that I had found the best pulque in Tlaxcala. We spoke about the state, its cuisine, and its history, and they let me in on a couple of pulque secrets.
Don’t drink the youngest pulque. I had told them about the time I had vomited in San Luis due to stomach distention from pulque fermenting inside of me. Drink the Mother Pulque. The strongest stuff. That pot that has fermented the longest has the least sugar and the most alcohol. After you drink, it won’t ferment inside of you because there is nothing left to ferment. This allows you to become drunk and drink more without the consequences of vomiting. This is advice from seasoned drinkers.
And finally, the scorpion! El alacrán! I had read about el alacrán in books which suggested it was a folk belief that held no truth. The idea is that quality pulque would form a scorpion when spilled on the ground. No adulterated pulque could make the shape.
As we were leaving the tinacal, the two Tlaxcaltecos took their gourds and expertly flicked the xaxtle, or dregs, of pulque on the ground. Undeniably, both landed in the shape of a scorpion on the dusty floor.
El alacrán en el tinacal de El Ratón! Pure pulque at last!
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