I had been invited to join John and travel to Portland where
he and Andrew Scrivani, were teaching a class at the International Food Bloggers Conference. Warren was also attending and teaching a freestyle
mixology class, and that evening found the four of us dining together at OX.
We had walked several blocks from the hotel, so by the time
we were seated, we were ready to eat; appetites made a bit more aggressive by
the heady smells of smoky grilling meats sizzling in the open, wood-fired
kitchen.
After some very satisfying appetizers paired with lively
conversation and a full-bodied red Argentine wine, I was presented with a
perfectly charred, beautifully marbled, rib-eye steak. It did not disappoint.
Mid-way through the meal, Warren leaned in and asked if I’d ever had mezcal,
and then seemed rather delighted to hear I had not.
With noticeable excitement, he had merely to turn around and with one step was at the bar and speaking to the barman, and with another, returning with a shot glass and a bottle of Del Maguey’s Chichicapa in hand. Smiling, he gave me a quick crash course on the spirit’s background and its industrious founder, Ron Cooper. Warren reveled in revealing a treasure trove of great stories he’d amassed during his adventurous, drinking-related travels. Needless to say, the mezcal and ensuing conversation were a perfect pairing with the
rest of my steak.
As I sipped, I remember gazing past his shoulder to a
well-stocked, very inviting bar, filled with the usual array of different
colored bottles. And for whatever reason, the image shifted slightly, and it
made me think of having just opened a large box of crayons for the first time.
Each one a different color, with hues both familiar and new, sharp and ready,
just waiting to be plucked and drawn out. A spontaneous observation of
something familiar, but never seen through mezcal eyes before. This was a
magical elixir.
My curiosity has been peaked by this, new to me spirit, and
I look forward to buying a bottle to try with barbecue. In viewing Ron’s site,
I learned of his passion for highlighting specific and single village varieties of mezcal, and that like wine, the terroir imparts its stamp. Same is true for mole, as each region of Mexico is known for its own specialized
recipe; the flavors and characteristics reflecting the area where they are
produced.
His Chichicapa, produced in the village of Chichicapa,
is about two hours south of Oaxaca
and the resulting mezcal has elements of smoke enhanced by definitive notes of
chocolate on the finish. Which then got me thinking about similar notes of
chocolate found in SFQ, and how much fun it would be to pair different mezcals
with smoky barbecued meats. Similarities further overlapping in that barbecue
also has distinctive regional varieties, so the possibilities are endless.
I’m pulling a quote from Ron’s site, “You don’t find mezcal,
mezcal finds you.” And because of that chance meeting, I may find myself seated
across from a certain someone, eating a certain smoky piece of meat, and I’ll
be the one leaning over and whispering, “have you ever tried mezcal?”
For more of Warren’s writing, check out “Buffalo Trace and Ribs | On Whiskey” in OKRA, the online magazine of the Southern Food and
Beverage Museum. His post recounts his pairing of SFQ sauced ribs with a smoky
bourbon, among other things.
