The Mija Chronicles

Mexican food and culture, on both sides of the border

bars

On the mezcal hunt in Roma Norte

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Lesley’s husband Crayton is filling in this week with a few posts.

Mezcal with orange slices at Red Fly

There is a plant in Mexico called the maguey. (Americans sometimes call it a century plant.) It’s a variety of agave, a cousin to the blue agave from which tequila is made. But maguey and other agave family members produce their own special drink, called mezcal, with a sharper, smokier flavor than tequila.

While top-shelf tequila stopped being an oxymoron decades ago, mezcal has had an undeserved reputation as tequila’s redneck cousin. (This probably had something to do with some misunderstandings involving a worm.) This is starting to change as people discover mezcal’s world of flavors and tones.

At the end of the day, what you need to know about mezcal is that it tastes good and it will get you toasty.

Here in Mexico City, one of the best places to find a good variety of handcrafted mezcal is in the Colonia Roma Norte, where a cluster of businesses are doing a good job of promoting products from small distilleries, mostly from the state of Oaxaca to the south, but also from Guerrero, Michoacan, Tamaulipas and others. (Coyoacán, the beautiful Mexico City neighborhood to the south, is another mezcal lover’s paradise.)

Roma Norte is closer to me, though, and thus became the site of Mezcalapalooza (thanks, Leslie Limon!), an alcohol-tastic journey I took recently with friends Martin and John. Martin took all the photos you see in this post, and they are his and his alone, so no thieving!

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A taste of TJ

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Hi everybody! Lesley’s husband Crayton here again. I’ll be your substitute blogger today.

Last weekend I went with friends to Salon Corona II, a nice downtown cantina with two levels. It’s become a good standby because it stays open pretty late and has decent tacos and tortas. (The original Salon Corona is a couple blocks away, and apparently has a long and storied past.) Let’s just say that the beer flowed like wine and afternoon quickly turned to evening, so I’m not sure who ordered the Tijuana beer first. But I’m glad he or she did.

What is this strange beer?

Tijuana Beer is a microbrewer in the border city, and its Web site lists a ton of places you can buy it in the U.S. In an exciting development, somehow the little brewer managed to break through Mexico’s beer duopoly and get served at a popular cantina. There is hope yet.

Tijuana makes a few different varieties and names them based on the extensive Mexican taxonomy of skin-color grades. I had a Morena (dark), and apparently they also sell a Dorada (golden) and a Güera (light). How was my Morena? Tasty! Definitely hoppier than the dark draft beer I’d been drinking earlier. (Oh! I should tell you about draft beer in Mexico. Typically, if you are in an establishment that serves draft beer (and I would say such establishments are rarer than in the U.S.), you will have a choice of dark (oscura) or light (clara) beer. They will often not be labeled by brand. They’re just dark and light.) Anyway, the Morena was very flavorful and lively. I’d definitely recommend it, and I salute Salon Corona for giving its clients an alternative.

One other note on Salon Corona II: It’s a Pumas bar. (Not that kind of puma.) The fútbol team was playing against Chivas, the beloved team of my friend Carlos, who couldn’t contain his excitement and had me worried for my safety. But the fans do really get into it, and if you’re looking for a place to watch a soccer game and experience the passion Mexican fans have for their teams, this is a good spot.

My new favorite bar, at Sanborns department store

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Sanborns bar

Crayton and I stopped by our local Sanborns a few weeks ago in search of a dish rack. Sanborns is a Mexican chain kind of like Target, but way smaller and not as cheap. They’ve got electronics, perfume, purses, drugstore items.

They don’t sell dish racks. But this Sanborns, a stone’s throw from El Angel, had a bar — a small doorway sandwiched between the digital cameras and boxes of chocolates.

It was odd. I’d never seen a stand-alone bar inside a Sanborns before. (Or any other department store, for that matter.) This one looked like no one had touched it since the 70’s. A sign above the door said simply, “Bar” and a wooden-easel menu advertised mixed, frothy drinks. Inside, cushioned, C-shaped brown chairs sat next to round tables. The entire place screamed “Ramada Inn, 1972.” Of course we had to stop by for a drink.

We made it there last Friday, after the bars finally reopened. We’d lucked into live music: An older gentleman onstage tap-tap-tapped on a tinkly Casio keyboard. “Bienvenidos, damas y caballeros…” he called, and launched into a flowery, synthesized ballad.

A waiter in a jacket and bow tie promptly took our order, and mentioned they had two-for-one drinks. (Dude!) Then he brought us fruit sprinkled with chile powder, peanuts and chicharrones.

Sipping my Paloma, eating free snacks and listening to an old guy espouse the beauty of love — how could you not adore this place? (Full disclosure: Half the crowd had gray hair.)

I kinda wanted to take one of these balloons home with me. They say, “I was at Sanborns.”

We’ll definitely be back.

sanborns balloon