Mexican Caviar: Foraging and Eating Farty Ant Larvae
Mexican chef JC Redon sharpens a branch to plunge into a velvety tree ant (liometopum apiculatum) mound. He will smell the end of the stick to check if queen ant larvae are present. They have a distinct “farty” odour.
Hidalgo, Mexico. Matt Reichel.
Exploring Mexico’s most opulent delicacy
Perched on the steep hillsides of the Mezquital valley overlooking the quiet, picturesque Hidalgo countryside in central Mexico stands a quaint farm called Teotlacualli. It is surrounded by a vast area of cacti and Joshua trees that cover the valley’s expanse. While a variety of vegetables and herbs are grown here, this farm serves another purpose.
The farm is home to an area where an abundance of ant nests can be found and where escamoles, or Mexican desert caviar, can be foraged and harvested.
Escamoles are edible ant larvae and pupae from the velvety tree ant (liometopum apiculatum) a species endemic to Mexico. They are considered an opulent delicacy and have been consumed since the Aztecs, predating the Hispanic era. The word escamole derives from the native Nahuatl words azca-- meaning “ant”-- and molli-- meaning “stew”.
This insect caviar looks like small white pebbles with a conical shape resembling a cross between a tiny white bean and a pine nut. The pebbles extract a little bit of liquid when eaten raw, similar to fish roe. When cooked, they give off a pungent, earthy flavour with a slight bit of acidity. From far away, the eggs might be mistaken for cottage cheese or finely scrambled tofu. It might as well be if the idea of eating ant eggs turns into the psychological game that comes with eating insects in general.
Top Left: An aerial view over the dry farmland and hills around the village of Puerto Mexico in the state of Hidalgo. This state is one of the poorest in Mexico, with much of the working-aged population having left to seek out labour jobs across Mexico and the United States. However, escamole is native to the state and could be a lucrative economic incentive for local farmers.
Top right: Chef JC Redon, his uncle Armando, and a farmhand climb up a cactus-covered hill in search of ant mounds to inspect.
Hidalgo, Mexico. Matt Reichel.
Meet the escamole foragers
José Carlos Redon and his uncle Armando have been farming ant eggs here for the past 11 years. Teotlacualli Farm has existed in their family for the past three generations. Redon is otherwise a chef and restauranteur who has studied and worked extensively abroad, including in the U.S., Poland, Italy, France, Greece, Spain and Australia. He owns Camelia Bistronomia Prêt-á-Porter, a cafe and specialty food store in Mexico City.
Redon’s farm is located in a small agricultural-based community called Puerto Mexico in Hidalgo, about 130 km northeast of Mexico City. Hidalgo is one of the most economically depressed states in Mexico, and many of the state’s workers have left for labour jobs in cities throughout North America. Only a few escamaleros, or ant egg farmers like Redon, remain. Throughout the year, they climb the valley’s steep hillsides to search out and monitor nests.
With proper care, farmers could hypothetically return to a single nest for up to 20 years, but this requires knowledge of appropriate collection techniques. This includes scraping away the tops of nests, separating ants from their larvae using sieves, and ensuring that nests are returned to their natural state during the monitoring process as much as possible. During a collection, “it’s like a hurricane has swept through your town,” Redon describes.
The collection season is very short, with a nest producing eggs typically between February and April. But, with climate change, that time frame has been shortening. Redon explains the season has started later this year at the end of March.
It is a steep hike to the location where Redon believes some nests may be located. Ants tunnel their homes among the roots of mezcal and tequila plants, and colonies are not noticeable. He follows a stream of ants, and as more and more surround a particular plant, he knows the nest is close.
Redon carefully plucks a plant away from the area. He gently moves aside pockets of soil with a sharpened piece of branch, gradually reaching deeper into the ground. The nest gives off a pervasive, acidic smell. Locals, after all, refer to these ants as la hormiga pedorra, "the farty ant.” Clinging onto dried-out pieces of the shrub are the nests.
JC Redon smells the end of a sharpened stick to sniff out the distinctly pungent odour of escamoles. He uses the stick to prod into the ant nest to check for larvae. If he gets a positive reading, he’ll gently open the nest to inspect the eggs.
Hidalgo, Mexico. Matt Reichel.
Ant poaching and the black bug market
The ants are fiercely protective. Swarms of worker ants protect each egg. The eggs, after all, belong to queen ants. They clutch onto the eggs and latch onto whatever they can. Redon has to work fast because the ants start to bite his hands. With each bite, the ants release formic acid from their venom glands that sting Redon’s skin. While harmless, the acid leaves little dark spots that he must wash off vigorously afterward.
Redon explains that poaching has been a pervasive problem. Poachers will ransack nests after dark and will not make any effort to return the nests to their natural state. Without proper cover, the entire population of a colony can be wiped out under the desert sun. These unsustainable foraging techniques have resulted in a decline of nests overall.
Finding colonies and tracking down the eggs in the first place is not an easy feat. And so, the difficulty involved in foraging escamoles only adds to its reputation and appeal. Escamoleros can sustainably harvest up to 70 percent of the eggs in each nest. A good nest will provide up to three kilograms of eggs. The incentive to collect in more significant quantities is strong, as one kilogram can fetch up to 1450 pesos-- about $70 US dollars.
Poachers will sell larvae at a fractional cost of 700 to 800 pesos, but there is no guarantee that they take care of and store the product. Poachers are also unable to provide expense receipts that are needed in Mexico’s complex business tax system.
Chef Redon holds out a piece of the inner chamber of the nest. The ants collect dry hay and form it into soft nests where the queen larvae are tended to. The escamoles are in fact only the larvae of future queen ants, hence their much larger size relative to the worker ants.
Hidalgo, Mexico. Matt Reichel.
Can ant eggs become global haute cuisine?
In recent years, escamoles have caught the attention of various upscale gastronomic chefs in Mexico City and have become a trendy item on tasting menus. Redon, for example, works as a supplier for Enrique Olvera of Pujol and other restaurants in the city.
The farm typically supplies 200 kilograms per year, which is 85 percent of their collection. Because of the pandemic, that number has dwindled significantly. They only managed to sell 10 kilograms last year, but they are back on track this year. Pujol, for example, is ordering two to three kilograms a week. They have even exported their product to Europe by freezing the larvae. Quality control can be a challenge. High-end restaurants like Pujol only want larvae that have retained a perfect spherical shape.
The eggs are incredibly delicate, so they are often prepared simply. The most traditional recipe is to fry them in butter with onion, epazote herb, and chile serrano and then wrap the eggs in corn tortillas to be served as tacos. They can also be presented with nopales and other edible flowers. Redon fries up around 100 grams per person, which is enough for two full tacos each. The larvae cannot be served in huge quantities because it contains up to 74 percent protein.
Chef Redon prepares the escamoles along with nopale cactus and grilled tortillas for the tacos. He stir-fries the escamoles in olive oil, salt, onion, epazote herb, flower petals, and Serrano chilli.
Hidalgo, Mexico. Matt Reichel.
Redon is also experimenting more creatively with the larvae. He believes strongly in the importance of escamoles in the future of Mexican gastronomy. Recently, he created an escamole ice cream with the help of a Montreal-based gelateria. Think ant larvae steeped in cream, topped with a caramelized maple syrup larvae topping.
Redon hopes Teotcualli farm will become a destination, somewhere where visitors can forage, farm, taste, and cook edible insects and flowers. Other edible bugs can also be foraged, including a Giant Mesquite bug called Xamues and gusano worms.
He believes that this will promote the area’s culture and allow Mexicans and international visitors to eat a delicacy directly from its source. Hidalgo is an impoverished state with many labourers. Expanding the escamole business beyond a supplier network to restaurants could be an opportunity to provide more jobs and build up the community.
The larvae are incredibly filling. A little spoonful of the larvae remains in the pan. It is immediately scooped up into one final tortilla. Nothing can go to waste. It is a delicacy and an expensive one at that.
Written by Robyn Huang on assignment for Inertia Network in Hidalgo, Mexico. Follow her @ror0roror0ro.
Photography by Matt Reichel on assignment for Inertia Network in Hidalgo, Mexico. Follow him @matthew.reichel.
