Oaxaca
After travelling through Northern and Central Mexico, entering the state of Oaxaca was like entering a whole new country. We began seeing signs of a culture different than any we had previously experienced. Oaxaca marked our entry into Zapatec country. No experience better encompassed the most notable differences than a walk through the city market. The produce stands carry a number of new and strange items, the tortillas have doubled in size and are fried and stuffed with an assortment of delicious fillings and amidst the hum of the market we overheard languages that were neither English nor Spanish. The metropolis acts as a magnet drawing in all of the regional specialties that left Jill and I overwhelmed with new foods to try and shops to peruse.
One of the many foodstuffs Oaxaca is known for is chocolate. Throughout the city we stumbled upon a chocolate store here and there, but it was when we walked down the street on the south side of the market that it was clear we were in a chocolate lover’s paradise. The street is lined with chocolate shop after chocolate shop, each one adding to the sweet chocolate aroma that overwhelmed any other city scents that may have been floating through the air. Each shop had, in addition to a plethora of chocolate related products, anywhere from 1 to 5 dishwasher sized grinders. One could choose the additives and proportions desired (2 part cocoa, 1 part sugar, a bit of cinnamon, some nutmeg and a few vanilla beans, for example) and out comes a liquid that quickly thickens and can be used in moles, hot chocolate, or to simply add some walnuts and cool. One night, Jill and I found ourselves pulled back to chocolate row where we indulged in an after dinner hot chocolate. Prepared with milk, and whipped just enough to give the cup a nice frothy head, the moment the rim touched my lips I knew that Swiss Miss would forever be coupled with feelings of disappointment.
No longer is tequila the liquor of choice. Now, when we go into liquor stores it is mezcal that line the shelves. As I mentioned in my tequila post mezcal is the whiskey to tequila’s bourbon, and at times I could not tell the difference between the two. One noticeable difference, however, is that mezcal is often bottled with a moth larvae that inevitably sinks to the bottom. This “worm” gives the mezcal a distinct smokiness that quickly grew on us and made the transition from tequila an easy one.
The large corn tortillas sold at the markets are called tlayudas and are a specialty in this region of Mexico. Like a Mexican calzone, a tlayuda can come with any number of different toppings, folded in half and fried in asiento (pig fat sounds nicer in Spanish). Jill and I made an attempt to make some back at the van but unfortunately learned it is best to leave it to the professionals. At the edge of the market we could find women selling pre-prepared tlayudas, and even though it had been hours since it was pulled from the fryer, it was still ten times better than what we had made back at the van. And despite the low price of $1, it was more than enough food to constitute a meal. In what has become an annoying theme of our journey, just as I fall in love with a new food, its regionalism prevents it from becoming a long term habit.
In front of the museum/old convent were armies of these funky looking drip people.
A Oaxacan delicacy, crickets. Buy 'em by the kilo
We ran across a Mezcal factory still making the stuff the old fashioned way. Mules pull that big wheel around in circles crushing the agave pinas.
Looking back at the fire tower we'd be climbing outside of Oaxaca.
Century plant on steroids. If you've ever seen the ones in the southwest, these are about 4 times bigger.
A tlayuda.
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