THE ROMANCE OF THE MEXICAN PULQUE.
The maguey plant is put to as many uses by the Mexicans as the cocoa
palm is by the South Sea Islanders. All around Mexico, even on the
barren plains where nothing else can exist, it grows in abundance. Its
leaves are ten and more feet in length, a foot in breadth and about
eight inches thick. Of course, there are smaller and larger growths,
according to their age. After collecting strength for about seven years
it sprouts from the center a giant flower stalk, twenty or thirty feet
high, on which often cluster three thousand flowers of a greenish
yellow color. These wonderful plants in bloom along the plains form one
of the most magnificent sights in Mexico. At the very least, forty have
been seen at one place, each vieing with the other to put forth the
most beauty.
A prince named Papautzin, of the noble blood of the Toltec, discovered
some fluid in a plant whose flowering spike had been accidentally
broken off. After saving it for some time, he had the curiosity to
taste it, and that taste was not only delicious to him, but was
destined to moisten the throat and muddle the brain of the Mexicans
for generations and generations, and to cause the curious and ever
inquiring tourist to do like the whale did at the taste of Jonah. This
noble prince was not like an Eastern Yankee; he did not keep his month
shut until he obtained a patent. If he had, telephones and gas wells
would be nowhere in comparison as a money-making scheme. He kindly sent
some to his sovereign by his beautiful daughter, Xochitl, the flower of
Tollan. The noble king drank and looked, looked and drank--the more he
drank the more he liked the stuff; the more he looked the more he liked
the girl. So he kept her, a willing prisoner, and their son was placed
upon the throne.
Generations after generations rolled by lovely Xochitl. The king, their
son, and the illustrious discoverer had solved the wonderful problem.
The maguey plant was cultivated by thousands, and oceans of its fluid
had gone down the throats of the natives. This was the origin of the
Mexican national drink, pulque. No estimate can be formed of the amount
used, but it is enormous. It is simply water for the natives, and a
pulque shop graces, almost invariably, every corner in the cities.
As stated in a former chapter, these shops are the finest decorated
places in Mexico. Superb paintings of all scenes grace the interior
and exterior; flags float gracefully over the doors, and customers are
always plenty. Men, women, and children can be seen constantly drinking
from clay pitchers of a generous size, for the full of which they pay
but two cents. No respectable Mexican would enter a pulque shop, but
they all drink it at every meal.
The maguey is planted at the interval of three yards apart, and in such
a manner that every way you look across an estate the plants run in a
straight line; they thrive in almost any soil, and after planting need
no more attention until the time of flowering, which is anywhere from
six to ten years. The Indians know by infallible signs just when the
flowering stem will appear, and at that time they cut out the whole
heart, leaving only a thick outside, which forms a natural basin. Into
this the sap continually oozes, and it is removed twice, sometimes
thrice a day by a peon, who sucks it into his mouth and then ejects
it into the jar he carries on his back. As soon as the plant exhausts
all this sap, which was originally intended to give strength and
life to the flowering stem, it dies, and is replaced by innumerable
suckers from the old root. Great care must be exercised in cutting the
plant--if the least too soon or too late, it is the death of it.
When first extracted the sap is extremely sweet, from which it derives
its name, aguamiel (honey water). Some of this is fermented for fifteen
and twenty-five days, when it is called madre pulque (the mother of
pulque). This is distributed in very small quantities among different
pigskins; then the fresh is poured on it, and in twenty-four hours it
is ready for sale. Plants ready to cut are valued at about $5, but an
established maguey ground will produce a revenue of $10,000 to $15,000
per annum. Pulque is brought to town in pig and goat skins. It has a
peculiar sour-milkish taste, and smells exactly like hop yeast.
From the mild pulque is distilled a rum called mescal. It is of a
lovely brown, golden color, and very pleasant to the taste. One can
drink it all night, be as drunk as a lord, and have no big head in the
morning. If it was once introduced into the States nothing else would
be used, for no difference how much is drank, the head is as clear and
bright as the teetotaler's in the morning. Nor is this the only use
of the plant. Poor people roof their huts with the leaves, placing
one on the other like shingles. The hollowed leaf serves as a trough
for conducting the water, The sharp thorns are stripped off, leaving
the fibers attached, and the natives use them as a needle, already
threaded. Paper is made from the pulp of the leaves, and twine and
thread from their fibers. The twine is woven into rugs, mats, sacks,
ropes, harness, even to the bits, and dainty little purses, which
tourists buy up like precious articles.
The wonderful productive powers of this plant do not end here. The
expensive cochineal bug, used for coloring purposes and for paint,
counts this maguey its foster-mother. On its wide leaves does it live
externally and internally until the gatherer comes and plucks it off,
probably to color some dainty maid's gown in the far distant land or
tint some sky of an artist's dream.
Yet maguey thinks it has not done enough for mortals, and it
accomplishes one more thing for which the Mexicans would treasure its
memory but Americans would gladly excuse it. Clinging to the shadiest
side, in a childlike confidence, is a long green worm, similar to the
unkillable cabbage worm of the States. Peons in a gentle manner, so as
not to crush or hurt, pluck these tender young things, and, putting
them in a vessel, bring the fruits of their work to town. Nothing can
be compared to the way and haste in which people buy them. Fried in
butter, a little brown milk gravy around, and they are set on the table
as the greatest delicacy of all Mexican dishes. It is needless to add
that the natives eat them with wonderful relish, and are quick to say
"We know what these dainty things are, but you folks eat oysters!"