The Mija Chronicles

Mexican food and culture, on both sides of the border

Beer

The Mexican craft beer revolution

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It’s tough to find a beer in Mexico City that isn’t produced by one of the country’s two giant beer companies. With few exceptions, restaurants and bars serve the same four or five beers — the only question is whether an establishment will carry FEMSA brands (Sol, Indio, Bohemia) or Modelo (Victoria, Pacifico, Negra Modelo).

That’s changing lately. A Mexican craft beer trend is sweeping the city, with independent, non-monopoly produced brews suddenly popping up in bars and restaurants. Many of these beers are made in Guadalajara, but some are produced in Mexico City. While craft brews have been popular in the United States for a while, this is staggering news for Mexicans and expats. More brews mean we have a choice now. A choice!

Probably the best new craft-beer bar is El Depósito, which opened a few months ago in Condesa. They stock around 140 beers from around the world, including Shiner Bock. I think my heart stopped beating when I saw Shiner’s distinctive yellow bottle — Shiner was the nectar of my 20’s, along with Silk Panties shots at Cosmos in Dallas.

El Depósito also sells Belgian lambics, smoked German Rauchbier and other bottles that are hard to find in Mexico. And they carry eight artisanal Mexican brews, including Cucapá, Poe, Malverde and Minerva.

Crayton and I snagged the last table a few Fridays ago, around 8 p.m. It’s an open, airy place, with shelves of beer and fridges on one side, and a bar on the other. Music videos played on mute on flat screens. Guns’n’Roses “Don’t Cry” swept out of the speakers, launching us into a discussion about the great power ballads.

At the register, I ordered a Cucapá Clasica for me and a Poe for Crayton, both of which are Mexican brews. We munched on popcorn and people-watched. (If you’re hungry, El Depósito also sells burritos.)

The super-hip waitress reminded me of the chola girls who used to intimidate me in junior high — feathered bangs, straight hair, big hoop earrings, heavy black eyeliner. Funny how things change because now I liked her look. Everyone else was in jeans and T-shirts.

We each had two beers and then had to move on to meet a friend for dinner. But I’d definitely go back. It’s a casual place without any of the pretentiousness that sometimes comes with Condesa. Plus it’s great to see a place that supports the independent beer scene in Mexico. If you’re in favor of opening up the Mexican beer market to something other than Victoria or Indio, you must pay them a visit.

You can even pick up a six pack to go — the price is slightly cheaper than drinking it there.

INFO
El Depósito
Baja California 375, near Benjamin Franklin
Phone: 5271-0716
Check them out on Facebook.

Beer o’clock

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While Lesley’s studying at an ashram in India, her husband Crayton is guest-posting. Please be kind to him.

Thanks for all your great suggestions on topics for the next couple of weeks. Keep ’em coming.

Today I’d like to talk to you about beers. Cervezas, as they’re formally known here. Informally known as chelas, chupas and other words I haven’t even learned yet.

Mexico has some great things going for it in the beer department, with some serious, serious flaws. The good news is that the widely available commercial beers are, by and large, pretty good. Some of them you know: Corona is every American’s favorite beachy beer. Dos Equis is that “stay thirsty my friends” beer. A lot of U.S. cities have Bohemia, Modelo Especial, its cousin Negra Modelo, and other stuff like Tecate and Sol. They all have their merits.

But here in REAL Mexico we have two beers that I really really like and that haven’t yet been marketed in the U.S. Victoria is what beerologists call a Mexican version of a “Vienna lager.” Beerologists are pretty dorky. I just call it a “good beer.” It’s slightly sweet, just enough bitter, tastes good at various levels of cold. Very functional, I’d say. The color is darker and much manlier than your typical Corona.

The other Mexico-exclusive beer is Indio, also apparently a lager. For my money, it’s pretty much Victoria. I find very little difference between the two beers, and so normally I’ll buy one or the other depending on what’s available in the store.

Which brings me to one of the awful truths about Mexican beer: There are only two beer companies. Two. One is called Modelo and the other is called Femsa. (Femsa has agreed to sell its beer unit to Heineken, so I guess it’ll be Modelo and Heineken down the road.) They make ALL THE BEERS. And they own their own convenience store chains, which dot every other block in Mexico City. So in Oxxo you’re going to get the Femsa beers, which are on this list. In the Extra stores, you’re going to get Modelo beers, which are these. (A few of the brands you’ll see on those lists are regional varieties, but they’re not standouts.)

Imports? Ha! You can get Budweiser and Bud Light in some of the stores. Coors Light is trying to make some inroads here, I think. And in some bars you can get a Heineken or Guinness in a can. To go beyond that, you need to really search and find a rare specialty store like the highly recommended La Belga, because otherwise you’re out of luck.

Microbrews are also elusive creatures. They do exist, but you have to really search. We have encountered Cosaco around town, and it’s very earthy, but cool just to have something different. I believe Lesley has mentioned the strange tale of Duff beer before. These Guadalajarans are apparently trying to start a line of beers named after soccer stars, starting with Maradona. Could be cool. (These small breweries have to contend against very giant companies with a lot of power, so it can be tough to get a foothold in the market.)

So anyway, what you don’t get in Mexico are these bars and restaurants and supermarkets with dozens and dozens of beers. I miss the adventure of trying new brews with weird names – your Dogfish Heads, your Anchor Steams, etc. And I really, really miss Miller High Life, which some of you may know is the Champagne of Beers.

One last note, lest anyone calls me out on it: There is one more very special Mexican beer called Noche Buena, which means “Christmas Eve” or “Poinsettia” or just “Good Night” and is available every year only around Christmas time. It’s the most bock-like of the Mexican beers, sweet and dark and quite yummy. So there’s that.

Tacos and Indio beer

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A "pop art" style Indio beer bottle, photographed at my Mexico City homeOne of my favorite beers in Mexico is Indio. It’s caramel-colored, and lightly malty. It goes down — not gonna lie to you — like wine.

Indio isn’t sold in the U.S., even though Femsa (the company that owns Indio) exports some of its other Mexican beers, such as Sol, Bohemia and Dos Equis.

Last night, I tried to go to spinning class at the gym next door, but it was canceled. So at 7:30 p.m. Crayton and I were looking at each other kind of guiltily. Do we stick to our fitness plan and go our real gym? (The spinning-class joint just offers classes — no machines.) Or, since it was already getting close to 8 p.m., do we stay in and order tacos and maybe drink a few beers? And… watch the last episode of Mad Men on iTunes?

The latter won. I called El Caminero and ordered chicken, bacon and onion for me, and chorizo, bacon, cheese and poblano peppers for him. When the food arrived, we sat on the barstools next to our kitchen counter — an area I’ve now deemed “The Taco Eating Space” — and opened the warm styrofoam containers. A stack of corn tortillas sat on top of the filling, keeping it warm. (How do the folks at El Caminero think of this stuff?)

While we were waiting for the taco man, Crayton went to Oxxo to pick up a six-pack. He came back with these really cool, art-styled Indio bottles. It’s apparently a temporary promotion. We got the “Pop Art” style label.

A close-up of the cardboard packaging that came with our six-pack of Indio

A shot of the cardboard packaging that came with our six-pack

Part of the cardboard packaging of a six-pack of Indio beer, currently under an "art style" promotion

The tacos were fabulous, by the way. We inhaled them and left the salsas in our wake. These two little guys are in the fridge right now, waiting for me to finish them off over lunch. (Do lettuce wraps with pure salsa filling sound weird?)

Leftover salsa from El Caminero, a taco joint in our Mexico City neighborhood

For the other female Indio-lovers: I present you with Indio bottle cap earrings.

How to feel American again, in less than 24 hours

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First: fly to Dallas and drive to Eno’s for American microbrews — an organic Mothership Wit, a Brooklyn Lager, and a Dale’s Pale Ale.

Beers at Eno's Pizza in Dallas

Chow on some thin-crusted, gooey, mozzarella and basil pizza.

Pizza from Eno's in Dallas

Drive past old sites, and see old friends….

The Dallas skyline, as seen from Woodall Rogers Freeway

Marissa and Lesley at Cosmo's

Stumble home to Ian’s house at 12:30 a.m., while contemplating the greatness of the American dirty martini, and the Sex with Jackson shot.

Drift off to sleep. Wake up at 5:30, and have your husband surprise you with a first-class flight to Seattle. (!) Have a bloody Mary, because it’s free.

Bloody Mary on our first-class flight to Seattle

Feel grateful for the existence of the American biscuit.

A hot biscuit, served on the plane.

Later, once in Olympia, meet up with more old friends and drink more microbrews. And eat more pizza.
Pesto Pizza from Vic's Pizzeria in Olympia, WA

Duff de Mexico: Homer Simpson would be proud

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Duff Beer

Like many industries in Mexico, the beer market here is basically a duopoly. Two breweries, Modelo and Femsa, control pretty much all the options. While I love me some Mexican beer (Victoria’s my fave, and I’ve heard raves about Noche Buena), sometimes you want something different, you know?

Rodrigo Contreras, a young entrepreneur from Guadalajara, apparently felt the same way. In 2006, he successfully registered Duff Beer as a brand here in Mexico, and he’s found distribution in various countries around the world. Duff is a Pilsner-style brew now sold in Spain, Belguim, Germany and Colombia. And not in the U.S., since, according to Wikipedia, Matt Groenig isn’t hot on the idea, for fear that it’ll appeal to children.

Crayton was super excited about the chance to drink a real Duff Beer. So using his crazy Googling skills, he found a bar in La Roma called Lucille that sells it. Interestingly, Lucille also sells other independent Mexican brews, such as Cosaco and Tempus.

Crayton’s Duff Beer verdict: “Real clean taste. Let the aftertaste hit. It’s subtle… I could hang with a six pack of this watching a game. I think that’s what Homer Simpson would want.”

Oscura o clara?

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Jarra de clara

Most cantinas in Mexico City only offer two types of beer on draft — “oscura,” or dark, or “clara,” meaning light. (The pic above is what we got a few weeks ago when we ordered a pitcher of clara.)

Last night we went to see Crayton’s co-worker’s band at a bar in Condesa. I had three claras, the last one only because the boss was buying. Oh, and I’d just gotten out of an exercise class and I hadn’t eaten in six hours.

Now my head hurts.

I’m going to take a nap. And to think, I was all excited to tell you about the Tae Bo class I took last night, where the instructor made up all these crazy routines and made us walk like ducks across the floor. Maybe another time.