Tuba is a fermented drink made of coconut palm sap. It’s found in only one place in Los Angeles

On a sidewalk in a middle-class neighborhood of the city of Colima, the Bejarano family sells tuba, a refreshing fermented drink made from the fresh, sweet sap of the coconut palm tree.

On a bright morning, the temperature rises with the sun as drivers pull over and grab glasses. They want tuba compuesta, or “composed,” which consists of mixed red berries and chopped apples, giving it an inviting pinkish hue. Topped with ice and some peanuts, it’s the perfect cooler for everyday life on the humid Pacific coastline.

“I drink it traditionally, because it’s fresh, it contains probiotics, because of its taste and its benefits,” said José Maciel, 53, an office worker who stopped to drink a cup. And he grins, “You can add mezcal or tequila to it to enjoy the freshness of a warm evening.”

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Tuba or tubá is one of the little-known wonders of the small state of Colima, barely noticeable on the radar of most international and even domestic tourists. But a recent trip showed me that little-known Colima is full of fascinating food and drink found only here and has a thriving culinary scene.

The drink’s roots date back to 1565, when the Manila-Acapulco galleon trade route began between Mexico and the Philippines, permanently changing the culinary trajectory of both countries. On the one hand, the route took avocados and papaya from Mexico to Asia. Galleons, on the other hand, sent Asian coconut trees to Mexico.

How to make a tuba? It starts with the leaves of the palm tree. Craftsmen climb the stems with ropes and spikes to reach the greenish base of each leaf. They cut the skin and hang containers to collect the white sap drop. This liquid soon turns into a slightly viscous, tangy drink that resembles Mexican pulque. It doesn’t taste like coconut at all, and can also have some alcohol if fermented enough, like tepache or tejuino.

Tuba has been experiencing a culinary rebirth in Colima in recent years. It is sold on street corners from vendors selling large gourds, and is also seen mixed with spirits on cocktail menus at upscale restaurants across the state.

The sun sets on the Pacific coast in Manzanillo, Colima’s main port.

(Daniel Hernandez/Los Angeles Times)

If this is the first you’ve read about the drink, you’re probably not alone. Colima suffers from some degree of invisibility. Dominated by the majestic Colima Volcano complex and home to the critical industrial port of Manzanillo, Colima is Mexico’s smallest state by population, with just 731,000 inhabitants.

Also in Mexico highest murder ratesBecause it’s stuck between violence-plagued Jalisco and Michoacán. According to the news site’s May report La Silla RouteIn Colima, a “pax narca” or negotiated calm exists between major criminal groups fighting for control of larger neighboring states. The worse-sounding murder figures come from the death rate in a small population of less than a million people.

The contradiction is shocking. Unlike Jalisco or Michoacán, spectacular gunfights are rare in Colima. Streets and highways are not heavily patrolled by military or federal forces. Ironically, as a visitor I felt safer here than on many of my visits to Jalisco or Michoacán. Daily life seems comfortable.

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A hot local The culinary movement is evolvingwith chef-driven restaurants and traditional local food like Colima’s posel secoThe state’s signature dish, consisting of stock-free “dry” pozole ingredients. Colima is home to success stories such as Cervecería de Colima, the world’s leading brewery. best overall in Mexico today.

“Colima is a real gem because it’s so small and so little known. That’s its virtue,” says chef Nico Mejía, a local star. “In the lands mineralized by volcanoes, there are sea, mountains, rainforests and lagoons in close proximity. These create materials unique to the state.”

“And,” he adds, “its gastronomy is quite honest.”

Coconut palm dominates the psyche more than anything else here. Of course for its fruit, in snacks like cocos preparados or rich guisados ​​and seafood dishes known all along the Pacific coast. Other Pacific states do not celebrate and obsess over the tuba the way Colima does.

The Bejarano family states that people come from all over the world especially to taste the tuba at their stall, and warns that not all tubas are made with the same precision as theirs. “Some ship it frozen to the United States,” says seller Karla Bejarano.

This mysterious drink is said to be a physical manifestation of long-overlooked foodways shared between Mexico and the Philippines during the Spanish colonial period Rudy Guevarra Jr.Professor of Asian Pacific American studies at Arizona State University.

The famous galleon fleet sailed from the port of Manila to the port of Acapulco and back for 250 years, between 1565 and 1815; He traveled for months across the treacherous ocean while carrying a lucrative stream of food, silver, fabric, and culinary tradition. The last port of call before reaching Acapulco was Colima. The route also brought artisans, laborers, and slaves to the Spanish colony. These travelers were often called “Indios chinos” in the colonial caste structure, although historians say the majority were Filipinos.

“They were both colonized by Spain, and they were both dealing with the horrors of colonialism,” Guevarra says of Filipinos and Native Mexicans who shared their knowledge with each other and joined the resistance together. “And then there was the sharing of ancestral knowledge that became part of both countries.”

Jorge Velazco Rocha runs an artisanal project, distilling tuba to make date liqueur at his roadside tavern near the town of Comala.

(Daniel Hernandez/Los Angeles Times)

The galleon also brought with it a critical technical secret. According to Paulina Machuca, historian at El Colegio de Michoacan leading figure A study of the period shows that galleons introduced Mexicans to Asian distillation methods based on natural materials rather than the more commonly known Arabian copper distillation method that came from Europe.

“When I started looking into this, I didn’t know tuba was a Filipino word or palapa was a Filipino word, and very few people knew that,” Machuca says. “The Filipino influence is incredibly strong, and perhaps we haven’t fully conceptualized the scope of its historical significance for this part of Mexico.”

Guevarra says influence and ethnicity have been carefully blended over the centuries. “But this idea and knowledge of their ancestors and where they came from was never lost.”

Tuba is actually the basis of an even rarer drink, the alcoholic “vino de cocos” distillate. This is actually the Philippines lampnogtuba distilled, high proof and with a taste similar to rustic sugar cane alcohol. In Mexico, the Spanish crown eventually banned vino de cocos (anything that got you drunk was called “wine” during colonial times) and it was deemed extinct. So far.

With a glass decanter in hand, Jorge Velazco Rocha crouches in front of a contraption of wooden barrels stacked in a cascade at his roadside tavern along the scrubby slopes of the Volcán de Colima. It is waiting to catch a clear liquid dripping from a spout near the bottom.

“This is the ‘vino de cocos’ of ancient Mexico,” says Velazco, a 76-year-old academic and entrepreneur. “This is the first time in centuries that Mexico has done this.”

It is impossible to verify Velazco’s claim, but he believes he single-handedly revived the Mexican practice of making palm liqueur from tuba. His modern vino de cocos may not be the kind of drink you want to sip at your leisure, like mezcal or tequila. Still, it’s a valuable historical curiosity and another example of Colima’s unique charm.

Of course, like everywhere in Mexico, Colima’s food can be found in Los Angeles. Incredibly even the tuba.

Raspados Nayarit is a modest store located on Broadway in Lincoln Heights, across from Lincoln High School. The business’s name, which refers to a different Pacific state, was inherited. Rodrigo Carmona, who runs the juice and snack shop with his wife and son, hid it.

“The people of Colima are jealous,” says Carmona. “But that’s the name we created.”

Their storefront may be the only place in Los Angeles County that serves tuba, which they import frozen. The family says 80% to 90% of its customers are people from the state looking for a taste of home. Matriarch Maria del Refugio Morquecho’s Colima-style antojitos were also a draw.

Rodrigo Carmona, Maria del Refugio Morquecho, and their son Uriel Carmona are the family behind Raspados Nayarit, the only place in Los Angeles serving imported tuba, a fermented beverage from the state of Colima.

(Karen Mariana Cardenas Ceballos/De Los)

He says many come just to taste some tuba. “From what I understand, it’s very good for energy and the kidneys.”

Carmona says Tuba is “an art form.” “Not all tubas are the same. It happens to everyone.” tuberose and their approach.”

When Raspados Nayarit serves tuba compuesta, vibrantly pink, chilled and topped with chopped apples and peanuts, it reminds Colimenses of home. But it is also a powerful testament to the depth and complexity of the Mexican diaspora in Los Angeles. Almost anything you can get in Mexico, you can theoretically get in Los Angeles

When I drink it here, the tuba at Raspados Nayarit also reminds me of my journey to Colima: the intoxicating power of the volcano, the tostada of the bozole seco, and the warmth of the sunset on the Manzanillo beach.