In the Age of Designer Drinks, Rebirth for an Ancient Elixir

MEXICO CITY — Reviled and ridiculed by the modern age, time has not been kind to pulque, a thick, milky alcoholic drink that was enjoyed by Aztec kings long before the Spanish arrived.

While Mexico City boasted some 1,500 pulque bars, or pulquerías, before the Mexican Revolution, nearly a century later that number has dwindled to just a few dozen, leading many to forecast pulque's extinction. It was an ignominious decline for the mysterious elixir, which was once far more popular here than beer.

But then something unexpected happened: pulque became cool.

Thanks to renewed interest from hip, young Mexicans and technological advances, pulque (pronounced PULL-kay) may be headed for a rebirth on both sides of the border.

After 2,000 years, enterprising entrepreneurs have finally figured out a way to tame the frothy pulque, pasteurizing it, putting it in bottles and cans and exporting it to the United States. Previously it was impossible to ship pulque long distances because it kept fermenting, becoming undrinkable.

At least three companies have begun exporting pulque to states like Texas, Georgia and Florida in the last two years, hoping to appeal both to homesick Mexican migrants and adventurous Americans.

Simultaneously, hordes of Mexican youngsters are discovering the alcoholic beverage and, in the process, transforming the traditional pulqueria from rough-and-tumble places that used to be the exclusive haunt of grizzled old men.

Emilio Ramírez, a 75-year-old seller of bootleg CD's, has watched with wonder as his local pulquería, the Blue Bird in southern Mexico City, evolved in recent years.

"Before it was just us old guys who drank pulque," marveled Ramírez, struggling to be heard over the rock 'n' roll that has replaced the traditional ranchera songs on the jukebox. "But now you see all these young people."

In one corner a group of tattooed students clinks glasses and swaps jokes. In another, a table of high school seniors giggles and smokes cigarettes.

"This is the coolest," said 25-year-old Cristóbal López, a university student sharing a bucket of green, pistachio-flavored pulque with two friends. "Pulque is something different. You can find beer anywhere, but pulque isn't so easy to get."

People have been drinking pulque in Central Mexico for millennia, tapping the juice of the maguey, a cactus that is also the foundation of mezcal and tequila. The maguey juice is then fermented, resulting in a milky drink with about 5 percent alcohol and a distinctive, thick texture that takes some getting used to. Pulque can also be sweetened with a dizzying array of flavors, ranging from pineapple and strawberry to pine nuts and celery.

The Aztecs used pulque in religious ceremonies and restricted its use to nobles.

After the Spanish Conquest, pulque became the drink of Mexico's lower classes, reaching its zenith at the beginning of the 20th Century when swaggering revolutionary fighters favored it.

Pulque has been credited with all manner of healing powers: according to legend, pulque helps nursing women produce more milk, cures stomach aches and produces no hangover.

But the last century saw a sharp decline in pulque's popularity, directly related to the rise of beer and smear campaigns against the beverage by fledgling breweries.

Beer mavens sought to link pulque with images of uncleanliness, especially compared to crisp, bottled beer. The most damaging attack may have been the nefarious rumor that pulque was fermented with human feces.

Just as pulque has acquired a retro coolness in Mexico, pulque exporters are hoping pulque in bottles and cans can give the drink new life in the United States.

"It's the most Mexican drink we have. Even tequila came after the arrival of the Spanish," said Rodolfo Del Razo, who exports pulque to California and plans to introduce his family's Nectar del Razo brand to the Atlanta area within the month. "Pulque was abandoned for so long, but now we're seeing young people in the United States get into it, mixing it with their cocktails."

Boulder Imports, with offices in Colorado and Texas, began importing its Lucha brand of pulque last year. The company sells its pulque throughout Central Texas and Florida and also hopes to begin selling in Atlanta soon.

The company hopes pulque follows in the footsteps of tequila, which also struggled for acceptance until breaking through in a big way in recent decades.

"I definitely think pulque will become much more well known and accepted in the United States," said Harry Leeper, an executive with Boulder Imports. "The idea of something authentic and real takes root without much effort. It will transcend borders."

Pulque bottlers tout the drink's various health benefits, which have been extolled by drinkers for centuries.

La Lucha bottles have a nutritional label (pulque contains calcium, Vitamin C, amino acids and fewer carbohydrates of beer) while Del Razo claims pulque has aphrodisiac powers.

"We know this from our ancestors, they told us that, and we are very close to proving it scientifically," asserted Del Razo.

Exporters also advertise the fact that pulque, especially the flavored varieties, can be mixed in cocktails. Boulder Imports has come up with a host of pulque recipes, including pulque lemon drops and pulque mojitos, it hopes will appeal to younger drinkers.

In Mexico, hip youngsters may also be pulque's salvation.

At La Risa (The Laughter in Spanish), a 106-year-old pulquería in Mexico City's historic downtown, the clientèle is almost exclusively students sporting dreadlocks, lip rings and ripped jeans.

Marco Polo Gutíerrez Jimenez, a business administration student at the National Autonomous University, said pulquerías have become a cool hangout for students looking for something out of the ordinary.

"It's better than a regular bar," said Gutíerrez, sporting a Che Guevara-type cap and sipping an orange oatmeal-flavored pulque. "It's more a place of the people. Plus there are cute girls here."

Bartender Jesús Juárez Dávila said that about seven years ago, his bar suddenly became a student hangout when a group of students discovered the place by chance. "Before it was all elderly people," he said. "The young people love the flavored pulques."

At the Blue Bird in southern Mexico City, the clash between the generations is on full display. A handful of old-timers sip their natural, white pulques while students drink brightly colored pulques with flavors like pineapple and pine nut. A modern jukebox booms The Doors, while the radio at the bar plays an old-time ranchera song.

"The new generations are discovering this," said Enrique Ochoa, a 33-year-old English teacher. "Just look around."