 Alvin Starkman, M.A., J.D.  Swing open the saloon doors, walk down a few steps, and have a seat at one of the ten or so orange arborite tables. Clint Eastwood might have parked himself on a wooden stool instead of a 1960’s vinyl covered stainless steel padded chair, but you get the idea. And yet somehow, the shiny, brand spanking new digital juke box does not seem particularly incongruous.  El Faro is a small bar in Colonia Reforma, about a ten minute taxi ride from Oaxaca’s zócalo. It serves alcohol, as well as the finest in typical, filling finger foods, as well as other quickly prepared local fare.  Distinctly different from other “authentic” bars, I have never seen a non-Mexican at El Faro over the dozen or more years over which I have been an occasional patron, except for when I have taken Canadian and American friends for the experience.  Now down to indulging. The experience on this afternoon began with the alcohol orders. Drinks arrive promptly, alongside shelled peanuts made on the premises with course salt and spices, a Oaxacan staple. Of course quartered limes, sal de gusano, and other accompaniments arrive depending on choice of beverage. You don’t order a tepeztate or a jabilí, although perhaps mezcales with such agave species are now offered. Blanco or añejo is all I have ever ordered, with a domestic beer chaser or three.  Mezcal is served clearly without any consideration given to portioning, and a couple of drinks will leave you feeling like four, or five. When my wife and I visit, we go in her car, both of us fully understanding that I will be in no condition to drive home. Alternatively, it’s in a taxi. Our friends are equally cognizant of the danger of El Faro.  El Faro cantina is no substitute for any of the dozen or more mezcalerías in Oaxaca. By contrast, it’s the place you want to go to understand what and how Oaxacans have typically been drinking for generations. With the mezcal boom now in full swing, younger Mexicans have also begun to drink as do visitors making a pilgrimage to Oaxaca to experience and learn about production of agave distillates such as the foregoing two varietals, and naturally others. How to order. While of course one can order from what the server says is available, but to our thinking it’s best to say, after the list has been rhymed off, “todo, por favor, poco a poco, y sin prisa” (everything please, little by little, and no rush).  The parade at El Faro then begins, starting with a burst of smoky flavor and spice; that is, exquisitely marinated onion slices. While vinegar is the main ingredient, the unique and appealing flavor of chile pasillo, with a mixture of spices, predominates, creating an appeal hard to beat, and dare I say replicate. Certainly it bears some similarity to piedrasos, often sold on street corners in large glass containers and served with marinated vegetables over giant chunks of toasted bread. So encountering this tart treasure in a sit-down environment is indeed a true find, especially since the street food lacks the smokiness found in this cook’s onion dish.  A tlayuda is set before us in short order, prepared without any excess baggage. The large crunchy oversized baked tortilla is made with requisite asiento (schmaltz, as my grandmother would say, but this fat isn’t from a chicken) and a thin paste of chile de arbol, topped with queso. Forget the vegetables, refried beans and meat typifying most tlayuda toppings. All in due course. Marinated serrano chiles with onion slices (rajas), additional salsas, and guacamole follow, rounding out the sides; that is, if appetizers can be distinguished from mains.  A plate of fast-fried small round potatoes known as bolas de fuego (fire balls) is placed before us. Seasoned with some type of chile, perhaps paprika, and without a doubt garlic, these crisp-on-the-outside golden goodies do not disappoint, being true to their name. Once on my way to inebriation, I’ll usually head to the juke box and play some of my favorite ‘60s and ’70 rock tunes. Sometimes you have to wait until the earlier music aficionado’s tunes have run their course, but it’s typically not more than a few minutes.  Frijoles con pata is next to arrive; black beans served in a bowl with boiled pork foot. It’s a traditional dish, and in fact our Oaxacan friends typically eat the gelatinous vittles with great gusto. But it’s equally both a taste and texture which many North Americans take time to acquire. A couple of decades later we’re still working on it. The salsas do help.  The empanadas de seso (beef brain) are the best we’ve had anywhere, anytime. While fried as is the custom, these little filled turnovers are lacking the customary double dose of oil, making them as close to a baked botana as one can find. Guacamole is the preferred dipping sauce, since there’s already a bit of spice in the stuffing.  As dusk approached, we rounded out our experience with two meat dishes combined on a single platter: costillas enchiladas (spare ribs coated with a chile mixture) which were well cooked as I had requested, and had plenty of meat on and off the bone; and tasajo (a thin filet of lightly seasoned beef) which arrived tender and juicy, and not at all over-cooked (often an issue in Oaxacan eateries), already cut into (large) bite sized pieces.  On some visits we ask for a plate of mixed typical Oaxacan snacks comprising quesillo, cecina, tasajo, chorizo, sometimes queso fresco, and chapulines if available. El Faro isn’t for every traveler. There are many who surely must walk by such establishments, take and quick peek inside, are clearly intrigued, but then say “no, we’d better not.” At El Faro you can, and you should.  A couple of years ago I asked my wife where she wanted to go for her 70th with some invited close friends. Casa Oaxaca? Vieja Lira? Los Danzantes? Origen? You guessed it, she said El Faro. El Faro. Jasminez 222-B, Colonia Reforma. Monday through Saturday.
Alvin Starkman and Randall Stockton operate Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca (www.mezcaleducationaltours.com).
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Towards Categorizing Mezcal for English Speakers: Mezcal Ancestral, Artesanal, Artisanal, & The Rest9/13/2020 Alvin Starkman, M.A., J.D.
In 2017, the regulatory board for mezcal for the first time delineated three classes of the spirit based upon their different means of production and tools of the trade. After months of hearings, with often heated discussion and objection, Consejo Regulador del Mezcal (CRM) decided upon the descriptive Spanish terms Ancestral and Artesanal, as well as a third category, just plain Mezcal. Mezcal of course it the relatively high alcohol content Mexican agave distillate most of which emanates from the state of Oaxaca. Those of us whose first language is English might understand and interpret the meaning and significance of the two terms differently than our Mexican agave distillate aficionado counterparts, and perhaps more significantly novices to imbibing mezcal. Do the words ancestral and artesanal mean the same to someone born and raised in Mexico, as do the words ancestral and artisanal to for example an English-first-language American, Canadian, Brit or Aussie? Just as importantly, I believe that where a distillery lies in terms of what equipment is used and in what manner to make its mezcal, is somewhere along a continuum. It is perhaps not appropriate to pigeonhole the production in a distillery or palenque as they are sometimes termed (at least small scale facilities), as being of one of three types. A single location can be registered in more than one category. For example Scorpion Mezcal SA de CV is registered as a producer of Mezcal Artesanal and just Mezcal. Indeed since the promulgation of the regulation, numerous producers (or palenqueros) have objected to the categorization of their enterprise, and attempted to have CRM authorize the label they want on their bottles for identification purposes, to be what they want and think it should read. But in some cases, no doubt, their main motivation is marketing, sales and bottom line, as opposed to enlightening the buying public. On the other hand consumers are being educated; it is hoped that we are able to work towards a more informed consumer. There are numerous subtleties to the ultimate delineation for labeling and distinguishing one production method (and equipment used) from the next. While I try to not bastardize and simplify the legitimate and important differences, for present purposes the three types can be summarized as follows. More exacting and perhaps accurate descriptions and differences in Spanish, including in chart form, can be found at https://mezcologia.mx/mezcal-ancestral: Mezcal Ancestral: agave cooked in an oven in the ground over firewood and rocks; crushed by hand or by tahona and beast of burden; fermented with or without agave fiber in a broad range of receptacle types including made of wood, a pit in the ground, animal skin, clay or brick/cement; and distilled over fire in clay, with the fiber included in the first distillation. Mezcal Artesanal: agave cooked as ancestral or in an above-ground manmade chamber fueled by wood or fossil fuel; crushed as above or using a crushing machine; fermented as above; and distilled using wood or fossil fuel, in clay, wood, copper, stainless steel, with or without fiber for the first distillation. Mezcal: agave cooked as above or in an autoclave or diffuser; crushed virtually any way; fermented as artesanal or in stainless steel; and distilled as above or in a continuous column still of copper or stainless steel. The third category, Mezcal, can be described in lay terms as approximating an industrial or perhaps less objectionably stated as a semi-industrial process, in neither case recognized as such by CRM. Once again, it must be emphasized that the foregoing is a rough summary which serves present purposes only. And there are no doubt ongoing arguments being presented dealing with terminology interpretation or oversight. Producers of Mezcal vie to be able to use the word Artesanal, and in fact some have ratcheted up sales by erecting new more “traditional” palenques (that is, approximating what we know of as typical artisanal facilities [at least in the central valleys of Oaxaca]); baking over firewood and rocks, fermenting in wooden vats and distilling in 300 – 400 liter copper alembics. And some Artesanal facilities would prefer being able to use the word Ancestral. There are those which are even trying to learn how to distill in clay, even though their family tradition has always been copper. Finally, many ancestral palenqueros object to not being able to use machinery to crush; doing so would make their lives somewhat easier, a good thing (but perhaps not for the purist imbibers). However the issues run much deeper. What do we think of when we hear or read the word ancestral? Roget’s thesaurus uses words including primitive, primordial, aboriginal and prehistoric. Cambridge dictionary states “relating to members of your family from the past,” and exemplifies with phrases including one’s “ancestral heritage,” a family’s “ancestral homeland,” and children losing their “ancestral tongue and values.” Merrian-Webster lists synonyms and near synonyms including historic, old-world, ancient, authentic, established, ageless, customary and venerable. Its simple definition reads “of, relating to, or inherited from an ancestor.” So we must look to that word; forefather, forerunner, progenitor, that is “one from whom a person is descended and who is usually more remote in the line of descent than a grandparent.” The foregoing, I suggest, is consistent with our more or less lay perception of ancestral. That is, when we think of Mezcal Ancestral, we likely consider it produced within a family tradition, with recipe, means of production and tools of the trade, all dating to pre-Hispanic times. And so herein lie the problems. Is there something misleading if a palenquero whose family has been distilling in only copper alembics for five or more generations, decides to learn how to distill in clay so he can produce an ancestral “style” agave distillate? One might reasonably reply no, because he’s using an ancestral method, and clay pots. According to CRM, he can crush using a tahona dragged by a horse, and call it Ancestral. But the modern horse was brought to the New World by the Spanish, hardly ancestral. Furthermore, in some circles the jury’s still out as to whether or not there was pre-Hispanic distillation, notwithstanding mounting proof of its existence. What if the earliest distillation in this part of North America used copper and not ancient clay pots? Perhaps CRM has it backwards, and Mezcal Ancestral should refer to a family’s continuous distillation of agave since the 1500s using horses and mules to crush and copper to distill; and crushing by hand and distilling in clay were merely subsequent adaptations of rural folk of extremely limited means. And even assuming pre-Hispanic distillation in clay, surely economic considerations came into play. By this it is suggested that only those of significant means could afford copper stills, tahonas and horses, so those of extremely modest resources (i.e. rural indigenous people) were restricted to using clay and wooden mallets. More about historical considerations further along. It is still within the realm of reasonable possibility that the earliest widespread distillation was in copper, which should not be discounted out of hand. Perhaps we should term clay distillation as artisanal. We must then look to the etymology of that word. Cambridge defines artisanal as something “made in a traditional way by someone who is skilled with their hands.” Merrian-Webster writes of producing “in limited quantities by an artisan through the use of traditional methods, artisanal bread/wine/cheese.” As examples of artisans it includes a cooper, carpenter, blacksmith, potter and glassblower. Roget’s lists craftsman as a synonym, and examples include bricklayer, miller, weaver, welder, woodcraftsman and upholsterer. Are artisanal producers any less skilled than ancestral? Quantities are more limited for ancestral. Skilled is relative. What if hands are totally removed from the equation, in favor of skilled workers employing tractors, trucks and front end loaders? The mezcal can still be termed Artesanal, or artisanal for present purposes. Should one be able to term the mezcal distilled as artisanal if the agave is steamed in a sealed brick and cement room, the heat produced from a fossil fuel such as diesel or propane? CRM answers in the positive, but not if the steaming is done in an iron chamber, an autoclave. Many imbibers tend to suggest or outright profess that if the mezcal is not made by baking the agave over firewood and rocks, that is, not artisanal or ancestral, it’s not good or even worthy of sampling. However, a convincing case can be made that by steaming, and thus not altering the flavor by impacting the agave with smoke from baking over wood, one gets a truer understanding and appreciation of the characteristics of the particular species or subspecies of the succulent, the impact of terroir, and the rest. Why does CRM not distinguish in its categorization fermenting with the cooked crushed agave fiber in the receptacle, as opposed to without it? One can term the mezcal as Ancestral or Artesanal even when the fiber has been removed prior to fermentation. It is suggested that as a consequence of its removal, the ultimate agave distillate begins to approximate more of a neutral spirit. We lose a significant amount of the flavor unique to the agave and other factors which determine the character of the end product. It is my understanding that one can distill in stainless steel, and still term the mezcal Artesanal. Mezcal purists would likely reject such a product out of hand as not being a traditionally made agave distillate. But one cannot have Mezcal Artesanal if the fermentation has occurred in stainless steel. Does not the neutrality of the metal enable us to better evaluate the mezcal on its unique merits without having been impacted by a cow hide, a pine tub or a clay pot? True teachers about the spirit should welcome being able to remove different impacts (i.e. fermentation vessel composition) from the equation for purposes of conducting a tasting. Based on the foregoing it is suggested that the current categorization, at least for English speakers, leads to a misperception of the quality of any particular mezcal. For the past decade or perhaps longer, brand owners have been moving towards putting increasing amounts of information on the back label regarding means of production and tools of the trade. Perhaps CRM should dictate the inclusion of certain specifics on the back label. Alternatively, it could consider expanding the categories as a way of better informing the public. Regardless, however the CRM categories are constituted cannot possibly tell the whole story and nor likely truly enlighten. It appears that the historical context of mezcal production will never be captured by whatever designations we read on bottles. Will labeling inevitably always mislead? The development of the spirit over time from the pre-Hispanic era until now is important, but of course cannot be captured on anything pasted on a bottle of mezcal. But the history, what we know and what we surmise, is important in the education of consumers. We should perhaps acknowledge that one can still dispute the roots of agave distillation. If not the decade, century or millennium of its first appearance in what is now Mexico, then its importance in understanding the historical significance of alcohol, be it a fermented drink such as pulque, or a distilled spirit such as mezcal. There is indeed an important story to be told, which CRM appears to either ignore, or simplify through labeling, where simplification is clearly, in my estimation, not appropriate. To provide just a hint, or rather as a precursor to a comprehensive essay on the theme, it can be stated with some degree of confidence that if there was indeed pre-Hispanic distillation, the spirit was consumed in that era ceremonially, and post-Conquest by the Spanish to induce drunkenness and enslave indigenous peoples for working the mines. Anthropological fieldwork, research and writings confirm a clay pot still site dating to about 900 BC, and other literature suggests pre-Hispanic distillation dates to a couple of thousands years earlier. Indeed writings on the history of pulque production and consumption have relevance. This context is beyond the purview of the present article. Perhaps the best and easiest short-term solution is for consumers to do their own due diligence and ask knowledgeable and trustworthy vendors about the specifics of each mezcal on the shelves. But that presupposes a certain level of understanding by and training of the sales force. In general, based on travels throughout Canada and perhaps more importantly the US, and discussions with Brits, Aussies and Europeans over the past decade, that education and knowledge is still by and large lacking. However it is indeed improving as more aficionados in the alcohol industry make a pilgrimage to regions of Mexico known for agave distillation. For consumers, while visiting Oaxaca and other centers of mezcal or other agave distillate production is encouraged, a visit or two can take you only so far in understanding what’s gone into producing that bottle. The label might help, but is of limited assistance. Alvin Starkman operates Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca (www.mezcaleducationaltours.com). His business associate is Randall Stockton. Valuable collaboration for this article was provided by Douglas French who has been distilling in Oaxaca since the early 1990s and owns Scorpion and Escorpion brands of mezcal, and Sierra Norte Mexican corn whiskey. However any and all errors / omissions are of the author alone. |
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