How 'Bout Horchata?

Note: This column appeared in The Chapel Hill News and is reproduced here for blog readers because the newspaper does not maintain its links.

Catch ya later, Corona. Adios, Dos Equis. Ta ta, Tecate.

There’s a new drink in town at Mexican restaurants and its name is horchata.

Pronounced or-CHA-ta, the milky Mexican imbibe tastes like liquefied rice pudding with an extra dash of cinnamon. That’s not surprising, considering it’s made by soaking rice overnight with cinnamon, vanilla and almonds then adding sugar.

If Starbucks ever wrapped their green aprons around horchata, it could be the next chai latte. Then again, let’s keep it somewhat secret.

The drink originated in Spain, where it was made with chufa nuts. According to legend, a little girl gave the King of Catalunya and Aragon some horchata, which he loved. The king told the girl ‘this is ‘Or, Xata.’ It’s gold, cutie

One silent ‘h’ and many years later, the Spanish brought that quaffable gold to the new world. And our Mexican friends in turn brought it to the Triangle.

In Mexico, horchata is often sold by roadside vendors. There are many varieties of the drink and even more opinions on how best to make it. Everyone has their secret, which is why three Chapel Hill restaurants that serve it declined to publicize their recipe.

I have been cleared to report that Los Potrillos, El Rodeo and Fiesta Grill include condensed milk in their horchata for a slightly sweeter taste.

Whether due to its flavor or its ability to counter fiery Mexican dishes, horchata is catching on—slowly. “It’s more popular with the Hispanics,” said Juan Sanchez, Manager at Los Potrillos. “Sometimes the American people are afraid to taste it. They say, ‘rice water?!’”

Horchata used to be an ‘off the menu’ item I could feel cool ordering. But it’s now in print at Los Potrillos and El Rodeo. Down NC 54, however, you can still feel like an insider ordering the off-menu drink at Fiesta Grill.

There, a gurgling container of what looks like coconut milk dances in a bubbler atop the counter. The sheer visibility of the drink likely aids its acceptance. “Sometimes we have to make horchata twice a day on the weekend,” said Jesus Bravo, manager at Fiesta Grill. “It’s very popular in Mexico, but now it’s getting very popular around here. Most people don’t know it, but as soon as they try it they love it.”

Having ordered horchata in restaurants for a few years now, I felt compelled to try making it. That brought me to my first decision: one method calls for cooked rice. Another lets the uncooked rice sit overnight in water. Because most of my favorite foods—barbecue and barbecue come to mind—don’t involve instant gratification, I went with the latter.

The Authentic way to grind the rice is to use the Mexican equivalent of the mortar and pestle, the metate y mano. Forget authenticity, pounding rice on a slab of stone sounds down right therapeutic. For those with manageable stress levels, a blender will do.

Thanks to such wonders of modern technology, horchata is easy to make. The hardest part is staying patient for the six-plus hours (overnight most likely) the rice must sit.

The next morning—if you can contain your excitement that long—the murky, milky mixture brims with mystery. But patience, amigo, is a virtue.

After blending again for three to four minutes, do not, repeat, do not underestimate the importance of the cheesecloth. I’d always viewed cheeseclothes as culinary excess. But one sip of chalky, chunky liquid had me searching for Cheeseclothes ‘R Us. I settled for Kitchenworks at University Mall.

Minus that excess, ahem, texture, the horchata was wonderful.

Pour the liquid into a container you can shake, as the drink tends to settle. If your kitchen lacks that essential culinary tool, a Kool-Aid style bubbler a la Fiesta Grill, go for a Tupperware pitcher.

And hey, if it doesn’t work out, all three restaurants mentioned here serve tall glasses of horchata with free refills.


Horchata

Makes 1 Quart

1 Cup uncooked rice
¼ Cup slivered almonds
2 sticks canela or cinnamon
1 quart water
¼ Cup sugar
½ teaspoon sugar

In a blender, grind up rice for 2 minutes, until it resembles coarse meal. Transfer the rice to a bowl and add the almonds, canela or cinnamon sticks and water. Stir the mixture well. Cover the mixture loosely and let it sit overnight.

Transfer the mixture to the blender in two batches and puree until the grittiness disappears, about 2 to 3 minutes per batch. Strain into a pitcher through several layers of dampened cheesecloth. Don’t skimp on either of these steps or the drink will come out tasting like chalk. Mix in the sugar and vanilla and stir until the sugar dissolves.

To serve, pour the horchata into tall, ice-filled glasses. Leftovers keep, refrigerated, for several days.

From: The Border Cookbook, by Cheryl Alters Jamison and Bill Jamison