Liquors often have roots in religious communities, which sounds peculiar until you consider the medicinal history of booze, the traditional mercantile focus of these mini-societies, and the fact that alcohol prohibition within the church is a pretty recent development. Monks are responsible for myriad varieties of beer, as well as Benedictine and Chartreuse among other liqueurs. Nuns, as far as I can tell, are responsible only for rompope, the thick yellow beverage known as Mexican eggnog, which reputedly originated in a Pueblan convent during the 17th century. This story probably has some truth to it, although the drink has roots which stretch back to the Old World, specifically Spanish ‘egg punches’, Dutch advocaat and English posset. Like advocaat, which also lives on today in bottled form, rompope is a rich, boozy concoction which mixes egg yolks, milk, vanilla and rum. A tempting mixture, but perhaps not the best choice for a sweltering early summer day, even in a kid-friendly package with a cool mascot. And so I skipped rompope’s alcoholic and non-alcoholic liquid forms in search of the ice cream version, which I’d spotted upon the big board at local frozen goods clearinghouse Paletería y Nevería Michoacána. I imagine the Michoacán connection has something to do with this chain, although this pink-and-white-striped establishment was staunchly unaffiliated, lacking the standard logo, with owners who seemed to spend most of their time hanging outside at an adjacent juice cart, sending a child in to take orders whenever someone wandered into the open air store. In keeping with this casual approach, the rompope flavor - which I imagine as a sort of Mexican rum raisin - was not actually available. I settled for mamey, another unfamiliar flavor, the product of the fruit also known as the nispero. This was delicious, rich and nutty, reminiscent of coconut with a more robust fruity flavor. Actual mameys were spotted at the local Super Xpress, a few aisles over from Sunglasses Rompope Kid, but as a hotel-bound tourist I was unable to sample them, lacking the appropriate metal cutlery to pierce their thick, woody skin.
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The coded language of snacks, sandwiches and seasonings, in NYC and beyond.
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