Café Maya Flameado

This is Yucatán. Specifically Mérida, where a handful of older restaurants have been finishing dinner with a flaming cup of coffee for as long as anyone remembers. Café Maya is not a cocktail. It is a closing ceremony, the moment when the lights go down a notch and the waiter wheels a cart with a tray of cups, a bottle of Xtabentún, and a long match.

The liqueur is what makes the drink Yucateco. Xtabentún is fermented honey from bees that feed on the xtabentún flower, an anise-scented vine that grows across the peninsula, and it has been distilled by Maya communities since long before the Spanish arrived with their grain alcohols. Without Xtabentún there is no Café Maya. Sambuca is not a substitute. Anisette is not a substitute. If you cannot find the bottle, drive to a Yucateco grocer or order it. Pregúntale a las señoras del mercado en Mérida and they will tell you the same.

The café de olla underneath is its own discipline. Piloncillo, canela, clove, and a strip of orange peel simmered together until the kitchen smells of burnt sugar. White sugar will not work. Ground cinnamon will not work. The drink is a stack of regional ingredients and each one is doing a specific job. Saber cocinar es saber vivir, and that includes knowing when to leave well enough alone.

The flame is the last act. It cooks off the harshness of the brandy, perfumes the room with orange oil, and gives the guests something to watch. Then the ice cream lands on top and the whole thing settles into a glass of sweet, dark, slightly boozy coffee with a cold crown. Así se hace y punto.