On the eve of hiking Guatemala’s third highest peak, Acatenango, I found myself at a bar asking some backpackers for advice. The group laughed, their advice was not to go to the bar the night before a hike, but one woman earnestly warned, “Bring a hat and wear layers. It’s cold up there.”
I had chosen, like many backpackers, to forgo a comfortable night in one of Antigua’s affordable hostels to sleep on the side of this nearby volcano. The attraction is not so much the hike up the black, igneous slopes, but the view. At night, you can look across the valley at Volcán de Fuego, an active volcano, and watch glowing, red lava spew into the black Guatemalan sky. Fireworks.
Twenty-four hours later, I am huddled around a fire with five other backpackers shivering with regret at not having packed more clothes, warmer clothes, anything to keep my blood hot through the night. The wind whips across the tree-bare slope drowning out conversation as we glance from our sputtering campfire over to the distant hell of Fuego’s bursting red peak. Echoes of eruptions reverberate across the valley like a thunderous belly laugh—Fuego mocking the gringo for his stupidity.
One of my fellow hikers, an Austrian, breaks the ice. He holds a bottle the size of his hand. We recognize it immediately. Quetzalteca.
Anyone who has traveled in Guatemala knows Quetzalteca. It is ubiquitous, cheap, and strong. With a traditionally dressed indigenous woman welcoming you on its logo, Quetzalteca acts as Guatemala’s unofficial national drink.
The largest distillery in Guatemala (owner of Zacapa and Botran Rum for those familiar with Guatemalan rums) distills Quetzalteca from cane sugar and bottles it at 36 ABV. In Latin America, this proof distinguishes Quetzalteca as aguardiente, a general term in Spanish for liquor distilled from fruit or cane sugar, which translates as agua-water and ardiente-burning. At less than 2 USD a bottle, my backpacker’s budget had familiarized me with the sharp, sweet burning and the head-swimming warmth that makes Quetzalteca famous.
We pass the bottle around the fire, swigging happily and reveling in the burning sensation that the liquor gives the throat. Soon, we are laughing at the wind and our bodies warm up to the idea of sleeping on the side of this volcano. We look from the fiery peak of Fuego to the clear bottle glimmering red in our campfire. Between the six of us, we finish two little bottles. I turn my back to the eruptions of Fuego. My head pulsating from aguardiente, fire water, I crawl into my tent.
If you ever hike Acatenango, or any mountain in Guatemala, pack a hat—and a little bottle of Quetzalteca.
Tepache is a common homemade and commercial drink throughout Mexico. In the home, it is mostly made by fermenting pineapples, but recipes vary and commercial vendors use many more fruits and spices. To call tepache just fermented pineapple is to miss out on the true diversity of these lightly fermented fruit beverages that have existed in Mexico for centuries.
Did Boston invent iced coffee? The city can claim credit for pushing coffee as an American drink. Also, Frederic Tudor of Boston was the first man to commercialize the ice trade on a global scale. He sold almost exclusively to coffee shops. Now more than ever, Boston identifies itself with the cold drink.
There is another moonshine in the United States of America. It hides on the island of Puerto Rico, where distillers make pitorro out of sugar cane and fruits. Port Morris Distillery in the Bronx brings this spirit to New York and keeps the tradition alive.
Kalahuala is a lightly fermented beverage produced by the Garifuna people on the coast on Honduras. It is not entirely clear what the drink is made of, but perhaps it contains palm fruit and sugarcane juice. Additionally, the name calaguala typically refers to a medicinal herb or fern, Polypodium leucotomos, that is common in Central America. Perhaps the drink contains some of this herb.
