Democratic Sentinel, Volume 8, Number 34, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 September 1884 — MEXICO’S FAVORITE BEVERAGE. [ARTICLE]

MEXICO’S FAVORITE BEVERAGE.

Pulque, the National Drink, and How It la Manufactured. Wishing to see for ourselves the whole process of pulque-making we journeyed to the plains of Apam not long since, to visit the maguey hacienda. The tlachiquero took us in charge —that official who is practical chief of both plantation and factory. We made a rather picturesque caravan as we sallied forth in pursuit of information. First rode the tlachiquero, liis bronze skin contrasting well with his white dress, his immense sombrero and leather apron, and the implements of his profession dangling from his belt. Betsey and I followed, mounted upon donkeys so diminutive that our dresacs nearly dragged upon the ground, our beajity enhanced by blue goggles, which experience has taught us the value of wearing in this sunny country. The peons brought up the rear, each driving a donkey laden with pig-skins, into which the agua miel was to be poured. The tlachiquero tells me that he goes periodically among his vegetable cows, marking those which have reached the period of efflorescence and are, therefore, ready for milking, by cutting a cross upon the topmost leaf. Three times a day for three months each is milked—at 3 o’clock a. m., at 7 a. m., and again at 3 p. m.—the poorest yielding at least 125 gallons before it dies. We went from plant to plant, watching the process of inserting the gourd with the cow’s-horn point and sucking of the siphon till the “cows” were all exhausted, and then our little caravan took up its line of march for the tinacal or vat-house. This is an enormous adobe shed, with earthen floor kept clean as the deck of a man-of-war. We entered in solemn procession, each peon as he passed the threshold removing his sombrero and piously ejaculating Alabo a Dios! —“l praise God!” One side of the building is occupied by huge vats of ox-hide, the hairy side up, called tinas. In each tina was a thick curd of madre (mother) pulque, which performed the office of leaven, and whose very “ancient and fishy smell|| outrivaled far-famed Cologne. When the pig-skins had been carefully opened and the agua miel was ready for pouring out, the tlachiquero seized a long stake, which is always kept ready for the purpose, and made the sign of the cross in the rotten curds, exclaiming devoutly: u Ava Maria purissima!” to which the Indians fervently responded, “ Alabad sea Dyos y la Santissima Trinidad!” —“Wepraise God and the sacred Srinity.” What would happen to the prologue if any of this pious performance were neglected I am unable to state, for never within the memory of the oldest inhabitant has it been omitted or curtailed. After about three hours of fermentation in the vats, the liquor is drawn into barrels for the pulque shops and the flower-decked booths which adorn all the highways and byways of Mexico. They mix religion with their drinks, as with everything else in this Catholic country, in a manner which elsewhere would be considered somewhat sacrilegious. Every pulqueria has a picture of the Blessed Virgin or its patron saint hung above the barrels, and a little shrine with a crucifix and burning candles is crowded among the bottles. The names of these shops are frequently more religious than appropriate. For instance, one opposite my window is called La Cantina del Merced—the saloon of mercy; that on the nearest corner is christened “The True Faith,” and a little further down the street is another dedicated “To the Mother of God!” Another rejoices under the rather ambiguous title, Vamos al gulfo del Mexico! “let us go to the Gulf of Mexico;” and scores of them are dedicated to Jesus, St. Joseph, St. John, St. Peter, St. Paul, Santissima Maria, and all the other virgins, saints, and angels known in the calendar.—Mexican Cor. Springjield Republican.