Tag Archives: road trip

San Juan del Rio, Oaxaca: Mezcal on the Mountain

We didn’t start out planning a trip to San Juan del Rio, Oaxaca. It just happened as we moved into the day. Friend Sheri Brautigam, textile designer, collector and Living Textiles of Mexico blogger, is visiting me. After a roundabout through the Teotitlan del Valle morning market, we headed out to San Pablo Villa de Mitla to visit master flying shuttle loom weaver Arturo Hernandez.

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Don Arturo creates fine ikat wool shawls and scarves colored with natural dyes, including cochineal, indigo, wild marigold and zapote negro (wild black persimmon).  Sheri knew him from the Santa Fe International Folk Art Market where he exhibited in summer 2014.  I’ve known him for years through my friend Eric Chavez Santiago, education director at the Museo Textil de Oaxaca. So, of course, we couldn’t help ourselves and new rebozos made it into our collections.

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It was only eleven in the morning. I asked Don Arturo if he knew the village of San Juan del Rio, where some of Oaxaca’s finest mezcal is produced and sold under private label. He said, Yes, it’s only about forty-five minutes from here.

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I looked at Sheri, she looked at me. We said, Let’s go. I invited Don Arturo to come with us and he said Yes, once more. A native Zapotec speaker, we were lucky to have him with us. He helped find our way!

About Mezcal: The agave piña or pineapple is dug up out of the ground at maturity (seven to twelves years of field growth) and taken to the distillery, where it is roasted over a wood fired, rock-lined pit.  That’s what gives it a smokey flavor. It’s then crushed to yield the liquid that becomes mezcal. Good mezcal goes through two distillations.

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Years ago, Sheri  worked with a seamstress embroiderer Alma Teresa who lives in San Juan del Rio. Sheri designs gorgeous quechquemitls and Teresa crochets the pieces together. To reconnect with her was another reason to go.  Notice Teresa’s blouse and jacket, with the elaborate crochet trim. Seems like some of the most fun days in Oaxaca start with no particular plan.

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We headed out toward Hierve del Agua but made a left turn onto a winding road that soon became unpaved dirt, rough from recent rains. It took a good hour plus to get there from Mitla.  The road ends at the picturesque village, tucked away in a river valley. Houses are built on hillsides.  Other hillsides are terraced with mezcal palenques and maize crops. The stills are at river level.  They use the water to cool the distillation process. This is not yet a tourist destination.

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This village is known for small production, artesenal mezcal. I was on a hunt for reposado. What I found was an extraordinary reposado at a third the price of what I usually pay in Oaxaca city, plus a wild agave (silvestre) mezcal called Tepeztate from a mezcalero who is akin to a winemaker. He produces mezcal that he sells to some of the top hand-crafted brands.

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Sheri got a taste of just distilled mezcal, warm and just out of the still. At eighty-percent alcohol her engine was roaring after just a sip.  I inhaled and almost fell over. Don Arturo joined us. Being the designated driver, I had to be more careful. The whole thing reminded me of North Carolina moonshine, but the resulting product here is so much more refined it’s not even comparable.

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There are now so many varieties of mezcal, depending on the type of agave used and whether the mezcal is aged and for how long. Añejo can be aged as long as twelve years in oak which takes on characteristics of the wood. Wild agave has a distinctive herbal flavor and aroma. You need to taste to see which you prefer.

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This is a full day trip. We could have stayed longer and visited more mezcaleros. But I think we came home with some of the best produced in the village at a fraction of the retail price. If you go, bring your own liter size glass bottles with tight lids. Some bring gallon jugs to fill up. Plan to leave Oaxaca by nine in the morning. You’ll return around seven at night. Don’t go in the rainy season! You will slide all over the road!

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Who to visit?

  1. Redondo de San Juan del Rio, Rodolfo Juan Juarez, mezcalero. Tel. (951) 546 5260. Reposado and Tepeztate
  2. Perla del Rio Mezcal, Ignacio Juan Antonio, mezcalero, Tel. (951) 546 5056. Espadin joven.
  3. Alma Teresa’s clothing cooperative, a block from the church. She is sending two daughters to university in Oaxaca. Her husband went to the U.S. to work years ago and never came back.

 

 

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You can buy a road map of Oaxaca state at the Proveedora, corner Reforma and Independencia, in the Centro Historico. Comes in handy for exploring and having an aventura, like we did.

Coming Up: Oaxaca Portrait Photography Workshop, Starts Jan. 30, 2015

Just Passing Through: Onward to Oaxaca, Day Two

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Day Two on Interstate 20 took me through the rest of Alabama, across Mississippi and midway through Louisiana.  LaTuga is running great and I’m getting to know her better.  The manual says the Honda Element is a high-profile vehicle, not to drive her fast or make sudden moves. So, I didn’t. Slow and steady wins the race, I keep telling myself.

My intention was to spend the night in Vicksburg, MS, on the Mother America Mississippi River, wide, magnificent.  Mark Twain’s river, paddle boats then steam boats.  One of the greatest and prolonged Civil War battles happened at Vicksburg. It was worth a stop.  And, when I did, the restaurants were closed and there was this dead-end, shut down, trying to make a comeback as a cute tourist chatchkah kinda’ town that didn’t quite make it.  The views were magnificent.  I honored the dead on both sides, imagined the force of battle, the strategic location on the bluff protected by still evident forts, and how the war turned against the Confederacy once it lost Vicksburg.  Controlling the mightiest river in America meant controlling food, munitions, life itself.

Once I crossed the Mississippi, I was immediately plunged into Louisiana’s flatlands and bayous.  The rain came.  It was getting dark at three-thirty in the afternoon, and by four-thirty I was ready to get off the road.  Where?  In West Monroe, LA, where the Quality Inn welcomed me.  This is not a high-end road trip, Judith Reitman!

Oh, boy, I though.  Louisiana bayou country.  Fish. Cajun. Jambalaya. Etouffee.  Dinner. I asked the woman behind the front desk, Where is a good local place to eat?  Why, jess dawn dah rode, she answered.

Repeat  from Day One:  at Willie’s Duck Diner where fatigue green and all-terrain vehicles populate the TV screen along with some scrufty looking millionaires, and diners whose bodies are testimony to overindulgence of hush puppies, corn bread, and jambalaya, there was no beer or wine.  Sorry ma’am, said the waitress, we don’t serve alcohol here, and no hot tea.  OK.  Hot water and lemon please.

Can’t wait to get to Austin.  I know from Eva Olson and Norm Chafetz that I can get a good glass of Malbec or Pinot Noir!

LaTuga Packed: To Oaxaca Day One

Yesterday LaTuga and I  covered 497 miles, from Pittsboro, NC to Pell City, AL.  It’s the first time we have been in Alabama, USA, which is covered in pine forests, rolling hills, lakes and rivers — just beautiful.  Stephen gave us a send-off by doing an iPhone video of the event.

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My plan was to leave at eight in the morning and spend the night in Atlanta, six hours away.  After goodbyes, last-minute loading, gassing up and hitting the road, it was nine-fifteen. (Thanks, Stephen, for finding me enough gas to get to the gas station.) So be it.  What’s the rush? I ask myself.  This is a road trip and I can do what I want.  I’m on my own schedule.

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Maybe I was too tired from the Monday night before with the grand finale mezcal and southern buttermilk fried chicken and apple pie with homemade ice cream goodbye dinner at The Small Cafe with dear friends.

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Maybe, I was procrastinating the departure, not wanting to say goodbye to KitKat, the new addition to my NC house and life.

I think I was just a little bit scared and anxious about starting out across the country by car into territory where I had never been before.  A single woman, traveling alone. I’ve traveled far by plane, but not by myself in an automobile for any great distance.  As I drove along, I saw many women at wheel going long distances.    My only disappointment?  The audible.com book I bought to listen to along the way could not be heard above the road noise.

LaTuga is a formidable vehicle.  She is not really a car, nor is she a truck, but she sits high and proud.  I’m a little person inside her ample body and I feel secure.  Once I got onto the Interstate the rhythm of the drive was soothing.  It was only three-thirty in the afternoon by the time I got through the beginnings of Atlanta rush hour traffic.  The road signs said two hundred more miles to Birmingham along I-20.

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So, I kept going until dusk  As soon as I crossed the border into Alabama, I entered Central Standard Time, and gained an hour, although the sun told me differently.  I pulled into a comfy Comfort Inn, and found a local catfish and steak joint where there were the best hush puppies I’ve ever tasted and a cornmeal coated catfish that was too good to count the calories. See more photos on my Facebook page. No beer.  No wine.  Only tea.  No hot tea, that would be ice tea, ma’am.  So I opted for hot water flavored with lemon and sugar.  Went down pretty well.

Now, I’m itchy to hit to the road.  I spent time writing this instead of getting out the door.  Next stop?  Who knows! I have all the time in the world until Wednesday when I’m on an airplane to Oaxaca from Austin, TX.