Welcome! ¡Bienvenido!

Welcome to Casa Palmeta! The bar is open. Here, on this blog, you will find our musings about the history and future of hospitality. History first.

We believe hospitality lies at the core of the human experience. We are human because we are hospitable—to each other, to the memory of our ancestors, to experience itself. This is more important than ever to remember today.

Tulum is a liminal place, where jungle meets ocean and sky, where nature overwhelms the ego, and where one affirms one’s connection to the past. It is in Tulum the secrets of hospitality may be unearthed. Cheers.

—

¡Bienvenidos a Casa Palmeta! La barra está abierta. Aquí, en este blog, encontrará nuestras reflexiones sobre la historia y el futuro de la hostelería. La historia primero.

Creemos que la hospitalidad es el núcleo de la experiencia humana. Somos humanos porque somos hospitalarios: unos con otros, con la memoria de nuestros antepasados, con la propia experiencia. Es más importante que nunca recordar esto hoy.

Tulum es un lugar liminal, donde la jungla se encuentra con el océano y el cielo, donde la naturaleza abruma al ego y donde uno afirma su conexión con el pasado. Es en Tulum donde se pueden descubrir los secretos de la hospitalidad. Salud.

Pax Hospitium

In the labyrinthine streets of ancient Rome, where the scent of ambition mingled with the aroma of steaming cauldrons and roasted meats, there stood a tavern known as the "Domus Concordia." A place where the weary traveler found solace and the wandering soul discovered a respite from the chaos of the world.

The proprietor, Gaius, was a man of robust stature with eyes that bore the weight of countless stories. His establishment, a microcosm of Roman civilization, echoed with the laughter of philosophers, the banter of soldiers, and the haggling of merchants. In the Domus Concordia, hospitality was not merely a virtue; it was the bedrock upon which the empire rested.

One evening, as the sun cast long shadows over the cobblestone streets, a stranger named Sextus entered the tavern. His tunic worn, and his leather sandals caked with the dust of the Appian Way, he looked like a man who had weathered both the physical and metaphysical storms of life.

Gaius, recognizing the universal language of weariness, welcomed Sextus with a nod and a cup of wine. The flickering flames in the hearth cast dancing shadows on the walls, mirroring the dance of disparate lives converging under the roof of the Domus Concordia.

As Sextus sat by the fire, he found himself surrounded by an eclectic assembly of Romans from all walks of life. Philosophers debated the nature of virtue, soldiers regaled each other with tales of conquest, and poets wove verses that captured the essence of an empire in flux.

Gaius moved among his guests, a maestro conducting a symphony of camaraderie. The air buzzed with the clinking of cups and the hum of shared stories. It was a tapestry woven with threads of open arms and open hearts, reflecting the ethos of a civilization that believed hospitality was not just a duty but a celebration of shared humanity.

As the night unfolded, Sextus felt the weight of his journey lift. The Domus Concordia was not merely a tavern; it was a microcosm of Roman civilization's heartbeat, a testament to the open arms that had embraced countless strangers across the sprawling empire.

As dawn approached, Sextus rose from his seat, his weariness replaced by a newfound vitality. He clasped Gaius's forearm in gratitude, the unspoken understanding between them transcending the boundaries of language and time. The tavern, now hushed in the pre-dawn stillness, bore witness to the transient yet profound connections forged within its walls.

Sextus departed into the awakening city, carrying with him the echoes of laughter, the warmth of hospitality, and the realization that, in the tapestry of Roman civilization, the foundational thread was woven from the fabric of open arms and the welcoming embrace of strangers.

—

May we at Casa Palmeta recommend: Good Morning Cicero, with fig, saffron, sherry & thyme.

Symposium of the Primal Soul

In the cradle of ancient Greece, where the shadows of Olympus loomed over the rugged terrain, there lived a man named Agathon. His abode, a fortress of weathered stone, stood as a testament to the raw vitality that pulsated through the Hellenic spirit.

Agathon, a figure of robust strength and a beard as wild as the untamed Aegean, welcomed guests not with delicate gestures but with a resounding embrace and a bellowing laugh that echoed through the hills. His hospitality, a reflection of an ancient Greek belief that the essence of humanity lay in the unbridled celebration of life's primal pleasures.

The guest chamber, Spartan in its simplicity, housed only the essentials—a cot draped in coarse linens, a table adorned with olives, figs, and amphorae filled with the potent wine of Dionysus. Agathon, with a glint in his eye, understood that true humanity was found not in the polished veneer of civilization but in the uninhibited revelry of primal connections.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the untamed landscape, Agathon gathered his guests in a symposium that reverberated with the primal beats of drums and the uninhibited laughter of kindred spirits. It was not a refined discourse but a raucous celebration of the untamed—the very essence of what defined humanity according to the ancient Greeks.

The feast that followed was a carnivorous ode to the prowess of the hunt. Roasted meats, grilled fish, and the aromatic herbs of the wilderness adorned the table. Wine flowed liberally, a river of intoxication that forged bonds beyond the constraints of societal norms. Agathon, a master of revelry, presided over the symposium with a primal wisdom, ensuring that the celebration reached the zenith of ecstatic abandon.

In the heart of the night, guests, their inhibitions stripped away like the armor of warriors in the heat of battle, engaged in the ancient dance of kinship. Bodies moved to the primal rhythms, and the revelry became an ode to the untamed vitality that defined the Hellenic soul—a celebration of humanity in its most unfiltered form.

As the first light of dawn painted the sky, guests, their senses still intoxicated by the communion of the night, departed with a nod of gratitude. Agathon bid them farewell not with refined pleasantries but with a guttural promise of future revelries.

In the quiet aftermath, Agathon stood on the threshold of his fortress, the traces of revelry still lingering in the air. In the unapologetic celebration of hospitality, in the untamed embrace of life's primal joys, Agathon embodied the belief that the very core of humanity pulsates in the shared ecstasy of untamed kinship.

—

At Casa Palmeta, we are currently working on a kykeon-like with Ancient Greek ingredients like wine, mead and barley.

Desert Sanctuaries

In the golden embrace of the Egyptian sun, where the ancient winds whispered secrets to the pyramids, there existed a civilization steeped in the profound art of hospitality. The people of the Nile, guardians of the sacred balance between earth and sky, saw hospitality as the very essence of their humanity.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the desert, a weary traveler named Amun-Ra found himself at the gates of a grand Egyptian estate. The air buzzed with the scent of lotus flowers, and the host, a nobleman named Ptah, welcomed Amun-Ra with open arms. Ptah believed that in welcoming a stranger, one not only embraced a fellow human but also forged a connection between the terrestrial and the celestial.

Seated beneath a canopy of stars, Ptah and Amun-Ra exchanged stories. Ptah spoke of the divine duty to extend kindness to all, for in the act of hospitality, mortals mirrored the gods themselves. Amun-Ra, touched by the generosity, revealed tales of distant lands where the concept of hospitality was alien, where the bonds of kinship were fragile like ancient papyrus.

As dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, Amun-Ra bid farewell to Ptah's abode, carrying the warmth of Egyptian hospitality within him. The nobleman, in turn, felt the invisible thread of connection that bound earth and sky draw tighter.

In the shadow of the pyramids, where life and death danced in eternal harmony, the Egyptians believed that even mourning was an act of hospitality towards the departed. When Ptah's father, Osiris, embarked on his journey to the afterlife, the family gathered in a symphony of grief. Yet, their mourning was not an expression of despair but a celebration of a life well-lived.

Ptah, adorned in mourning garments, led the procession. The mourners painted their faces with sacred symbols, paying homage to the departed as they believed their loved ones ventured into the cosmic embrace of Nut, the sky goddess. Each ritual, each wail, was a gesture of hospitality, an offering to guide Osiris on his celestial voyage.

In the tapestry of Egyptian existence, hospitality was the golden thread that connected the earthly with the divine. Whether under the vast expanse of the desert sky or within the hallowed chambers of mourning, the people of the Nile understood that in embracing the stranger, in commemorating the departed, they participated in a cosmic dance that transcended the boundaries of time and space. And so, the sands of Egypt whispered tales of a humanity defined by the graciousness bestowed upon the living and the dead alike.

—

May we recommend at Casa Palmeta: Starry Window, with tequila, cynar, cold brew, agave and egg white.

Sediments of Civility

In the shadow of ancient stones, where the veil between earth and sky was thin, the people of Gobleki Tepe embraced a sacred ethos of hospitality. It wasn't just a social custom; it was the very sinew that bound their humanity. In those prehistoric times, where the cosmic dance of celestial bodies held sway, hospitality was a ritual, a communion that transcended the mundane.

Amidst the towering pillars that reached for the heavens, the people of Gobleki Tepe understood that the act of welcoming a stranger was more than a mere social grace—it was a cosmic alignment. The guest, a wanderer under the same celestial canopy, carried with them the essence of the unknown. To host was to bridge the gap between earth and sky, to bring the distant constellations closer through the shared warmth of a hearth.

The rituals of hospitality at Gobleki Tepe were elaborate, almost divine in their complexity. A stranger approaching the sacred site would be met with a procession of masked figures, adorned in symbols that spoke the language of both earth and sky. It was a language woven into the fabric of their existence, a tapestry of myth and reality.

As the guest entered the hallowed grounds, the air crackled with anticipation. Fires danced, casting flickering shadows on the monolithic stones that whispered tales of epochs past. The people of Gobleki Tepe believed that, in the act of hosting, they were not just offering sustenance but participating in a cosmic drama—a narrative where the terrestrial and the celestial converged.

The feast that followed was a symphony of flavors and fragrances, a banquet that transcended the material realm. Meats roasted on open flames, fruits plucked from the earth's embrace, and grains harvested from the soil were offerings to both guest and gods. The communal sharing of food was a sacrament, a gesture that echoed through the corridors of time, uniting past, present, and future.

It was through these elaborate rituals of hospitality that the people of Gobleki Tepe came together to shape the sacred site. The stones, etched with symbols that spoke of cosmic mysteries, were erected not through mere physical effort but through the collective spirit of those bound by the sacred bonds of hospitality. The act of creation was a communal feast, a collaboration that echoed the harmony of the cosmos.

In the fading light of the celestial tapestry, the people of Gobleki Tepe knew that their hospitality was not just a social construct—it was the very fabric of their existence. Through the dance of flames, the taste of shared sustenance, and the communion with the unknown, they discovered the essence of what it meant to be human—a celebration that echoed through the ages, a feast that bridged the realms of earth and sky.

—

At Casa Palmeta, we recommend Dear Friend, our take on a michelada with black truffle and Tulum lager.