Cocina

When I (Haines) first got the idea for this book, I was part of an archaeological field project living in Mitla, a modest-sized town in the western part of the Tlacolula Valley in Oaxaca, Mexico. It was late in the afternoon on a hot Saturday and my colleagues and I had just finished visiting the ruins of Cuilapan in the Valley Grande and were on our way back to the Tlacolula Valley. We had beenliving in Mitla for almost three months and were wrapping up a somewhat long and arduous field season. Consequently, we decided to extend our day off and stop in the capital city of Oaxaca for a drink and something to eat. Although Mitla boasted a lovely ruin that attracted many visitors, the alcoholic beverages offered to both tourists and locals alike were limited to mezcal, 1 beer, and theoccasional bottle of surprisingly good Chilean red wine. While I was generally quite happy with the wine, it was not in regular supply and there is only so much beer I can drink. Mezcal, I discovered, was an acquired taste— one I never quite managed to master. Tired of our usual fare, I was convinced that somewhere in Oaxaca City I could get a gin and tonic. I will readily admit that I have a weaknessfor gin, specifically gin and tonics. While I do not consume them often or in excess, I must confess to a fondness for unwinding over a lovely lowboy filled with a shot of Tanqueray, 2 topped with tonic water, two cubes of ice, and a double twist of lime. Although I was raised in a British-Canadian household, it was not until I studied for my doctoral degree in “London over home” (as mygrandfather called it 3 ) that I truly developed my passion for gin. Gin and tonics were the quintessential drink of the British Empire in the nineteenth century. Not only was it “medicinal,” in that the tonic water contained quinine powder (a malarial prophylaxis 4 ), but gin and tonic water is also amazingly relaxing and refreshing on a hot afternoon. The late Queen Mum (the mother of Queen Elizabeth IIof England) was famous for her fondness for a good gin and tonic. As for myself, I have since gone to great lengths, incurred large expense, and suffered through some truly awful beverages to satisfy my occasional craving for a gin and tonic during my travels. On that particular day I was quite ruthless as I dragged my colleagues up and down the streets of Oaxaca City, obsessed with finding aplace that could make me a gin and tonic. I finally found a place on the north side of the main plaza, a bar in the lower level of a hotel that catered to tourists. The bartender assured me they had gin (ginebra) and tonic (amarillo lata 6 ) and that he could fashion me the drink I so ardently craved. The gin turned out to be a local Mexican brand called Oso Negro (Black Bear). While a bit strong, itwas quite palatable, and as the bartender had no trouble supplying us with plenty of lime to “take the edge off,” it turned out to be quite a pleasant concoction. We sat basking in the warmth of a bright and sunny afternoon, enjoying the glories of a refreshing gin and tonic, and looking out over the colonial construction of the zocalo. It was there we were spotted by a colleague from anotherarchaeological project. After he joined our merry band, our minds (and stomachs) turned to thoughts of food to accompany our drinks. Our colleague, a long-time researcher in Oaxaca, was shocked to discover we had yet to try the local delicacy chapulines. These are small grasshoppers dry-roasted with salt, chilies, and lime that are commonly available in the zocalo. Women carry large platter-like bowlsfilled with them around the plaza. They scoop them into little bags much like chestnut vendors do, and happy patrons pop them into their mouths as they walk, in a manner reminiscent of people consuming popcorn at a fair. As insects are not normally on the menu in Belize, where I conduct most of my research, let alone in Canada, where I live, I was quite happy to avoid this dish. I had (naively...