Stir It Up!

A lime wedge in a bottle of beer is one thing — but chilli sauce, stock, tomato juice, or clam broth? Welcome to the Mexican tradition of ‘prepared beer’ — and its crowning glory, the michelada.

- Liz Dood

IN ZACATECAS, AN OLD MINING TOWN HIGH IN THE MOUNTAINS AROUND MEXICO CITY, IN A SLEEK BAR STRUNG WITH PAINTINGS BY DALÍ AND MIRÓ, A MAN POURS TOMATO JUICE INTO MY BEER. TO BE STRICTLY ACCURATE IT’S CLAMATO, A PARTICULAR KIND OF TOMATO JUICE FLAVOURED WITH CLAM BROTH AND SPICES. IF A BARTENDER BACK HOME IN THE UK TRIED TO POUR FISH WATER INTO MY BEER, I ’D WALK OUT.

But this is Mexico, so instead I watch as he adds a dash of chilli sauce, a splash of Worcestershire sauce, a little stock and a squeeze of lime. He finishes with a handful of ice cubes and a flourish of chilli powder and then passes me the result: a michelada. It’s delicious — a Bloody Mary without the vodka kick — as I knew it would be, having become addicted to the drink while cycling across the country. But rather like the old adage about never watching a sausage being made, I hadn’t quite realised what went into the quintessential Mexican beer cocktail.

Michelada is the evolutionary pinnacle of ‘cerveza preparada’ — prepared beer — which is Mexican shorthand for a beer loaded with extras such as salt and lime. The tradition started because Mexican beer bottles were sealed with metal caps that left traces of rust on the neck. Drinkers used a wedge of lime to wipe the rust off the mouth of the bottle, but more often then not they’d then chuck the lime into the beer.