This one goes out to my Uncle Dick. He and my Aunt Susie are probably the biggest reason I emigrated to Latin America. Back in the 80's, they took up the expat life in Jalisco, Mexico ...with the big difference being that they tended to stay away from foreigners and cultivated beautiful relationships with the locals. After their arrival in Mexico, I went toe-to-toe with my then-intense fear of flying and escaped the Chicago winters for two weeks every January. Through them, I visited homes of their friends in the hills above Puerto Vallarta and came to love Mexico as much as them.
One morning, while preparing a late breakfast, I remember (I'm cursed with total recall after alcoholic bouts) there was a knock on the door. My Uncle Dick went to answer it and, after a brief discussion at the door, he came into the kitchen with a quart bottle of something that looked like water.
"Hey! You know about this stuff?"
"No. What's that?"
"That's raicilla, baby. You ever heard of it? You want some?"
I'm pretty sure I'd swallowed some of the freshest eggs and butter in the world ...or I would have begged-off. As it was, we poured some shots and I sliced-up some limes.
"What is it?"
"Raicilla. Moonshine tequila from up in the hills. It's good but it's not easy to get. You got to know somebody. This stuff is particularly good."
I sniffed the shot glass and it smelled good ...but strong! I squeezed a wedge of lime into mine in the hopes of ...I don't know ...and steeled myself ...and took a slash.
I didn't taste too very much but what impressed me was that, for all it's strength, I didn't cough or choke ...it was barrel proof and had numbed, anesthetized my throat. It went down smooooth. That freaked me out.
"Well! Whaddya think?"
Neither good tequila nor mezcal was available in the US in those days. José Cuervo, this weren't! Like any good cactus whiskey, the perfumes of the stuff started to swirl up around the back of my pallet and into my sinuses and into my lungs for the next couple of breaths.
"Gimme a second," I said, trying to take it all in so unexpectedly there with the sun streaming in on its way to the yardarm. "It's good. Really good."
"It's about 140 proof, give or take."
I told him that it didn't really taste that strong ...then it hit me. I'd never downed a shot of anything that affected me in the tips of my toes before any place else! Pretty soon, my whole huaraches were tingling.
A couple two three shots later and the afternoon began to dissolve into sun, sand, ocean, and palmtrees. Beautiful day.
Just a few years later, I read that the actor Richard Burton had become a big fan of the stuff just a few blocks away from my denouement. Ten years later, I was introducing a generation of Chicagoans to mezcales, albeit at a more civilized level of the active ingredient.
Great article! If you can get it in your city, take a slash and think of the Ol' Yanq and his Uncle Dick.
Salud!
1 comment:
Not quite the same thing, but I recently learned you can drink the rubbing alcohol (ethyl) here in Argentina. At AR$16 a bottle of 96% alcohol, it is a cheap high. I tried a tiny taste; spicy and strong. Thanks, but I'll stick to tintos. --Alan
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