Micheladas

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Right now I’m in my warm bedroom (thanks to a few days of warm weather) listening to Alanis Morissette in preparation for her February 16th performance at the National Auditorium. Although I know nothing about her current music, I have nearly the entire Jagged Little Pill album memorized from middle school. I’m excited about the concert because I got five other girls from work to go. So it’ll be a fun girls’ night out which, considering the lack of friends problem I had last year, is very exciting.

As I apply for jobs out of Mexico for next year, I have begun to think about what I will miss about this country when I have moved on. Many things come to mind but there is one item in particular that I won’t have to miss because I’ll be able to prepare it nearly anywhere I go. It is the beverage known as the michelada.

Now, a michelada is not the same thing throughout Mexico. My use of the term comes from the chilango version. When you order a michelada here in Mexico City, you get the beer of your choice with a glass of ice with salt around the rim. In the glass there is the juice of two or three little limes. Carefully you pour the beer into the glass not allowing the foam to touch the salt. On a warm day, this is the most refreshing drink imaginable. Without the salt, the lime juice makes the beer entirely too sour. The trick is to lick off some of the salt from the rim just before letting the beer touch your lips. This allows you to enjoy the taste of the lime without the overwhelming sourness and if you plan it properly, you finish the circle of salt with your last drop of beer.

As I mentioned, it is crucial to pour the beer carefully into the glass. If you allow your gustatory emotions to take over and pour hastily, not only do you ruin your drink, but you also compromise the dry dining experience of your tablemates. Although I haven’t confirmed this with actual chemical science, I’m pretty sure that when you combine airy beer foam, lots of lime, and lots of salt, a strong reaction occurs and nearly half of the contents of the glass overflows. The worst part about this is that the reaction is somewhat delayed and so you pour your beer and look away contently to continue your conversation with your friends and all of a sudden everyone is leaning away from you with a look of fright. So, you look back and with luck you grab your napkin just in time to absorb the beer reaching the edge of the table ready to pour onto the jeans that the day before you had to schlep with all the rest of your laundry eight blocks to the nearest laundromat. I am now a more experienced michelada drinker, and fortunately haven’t had any accidents in the last few months.

If you’re going to order a michelada in Mexico or at a Mexican restaurant in the States, be aware that different regions prepare them in different ways. If you go to the Yucatan, for example, you need to order a chelada to get what I have described. If you order a michelada in Oaxaca, you’ll get beer, ice, lime, as well as a tomato juice and chile mixture that can turn your beer everything from bright red to dark burgundy. I’ve tried a few different varieties of these foreign micheladas but nothing is as refreshing as the simple combination of lime, salt, ice and a good Mexican dark beer.