Horchata means many different things to many different people. I believe the drink originated in Spain, where they make it from ground up "tiger nuts" (not sure exactly what those are). It was brought over to Latin America, where there aren't a lot of tigers or tiger nuts. Each country in Latin America has their own variation of horchata, and each country thinks theirs is the best. I have only sampled Honduran horchata but it is really, really good.
Horchata is basically rice milk. Or rather, since I don't know what rice milk actually is, it is what I assume rice milk to be. Here in Honduras horchata is made from rice, cinnamon, and morro seeds. (Morro seeds are, I think, seeds from a calabash. Different sources say different things, and I have not been able to confirm this. However, I can confirm that there is no such thing as a morro plant.) Basically, you soak uncooked rice for a couple hours, toast the morro seeds and some cinnamon sticks, then blend all three together. Add water, strain out the chunks, and add sugar and lime to your taste. If I ever get the opportunity to try other variations of horchata, I will let you know. But for now, a cold glass of this stuff on a hot and humid Honduran afternoon is absolutely fantastic.
If you want to actual recipe, let me know. It's really fast and easy. I can even tell you some things to substitute for the morro seeds if you need to, although supposedly they are easy enough to find in the Latin food section of your local grocery store.
Here it is. Quajada and I are still in the honeymoon phase of our relationship at this point. As I opened the bag it was enclosed in, a pungent odor attacked my nostrils. Plenty of delicious cheese is stinky, I told myself as those blasphemous words from the blog bubbled to the surface of my consciousness. Plus, this cheese is wrapped in a banana leaf. That's awesome! It's gotta be awesome. In order to fully experience this cheese, I decided the first bite should be the cheese flying solo. Just pure, unadulterated quajada. Not the dumbest decision I have made, but pretty close. Before I had even closed my mouth, I regretted not only eating the cheese by itself, but purchasing it in the first place. The most foul tasting case of buyer's remorse I have ever experienced. You know that scene in The Princess Bride when the old lady is yelling at Buttercup and calling her names? The queen of filth...garbage...putrescence...I believe that Rob Reiner gave that lady some quesillo as inspiration for that scene. There are not enough words in the history of language to describe the nastiness of that cheese.