Ceviche in the Big Apple

Part II: What to do when you crave ceviche but live in New York.

It's unfortunate that some of the worst ceviche I've ever tried has been in New York. There was a lamentable incident in which Jeremy and I, in a moment of inspiration, decided to stop at Coco Rocco for a lunch time ceviche and beer. The fish was mauled and stringy - absolutely no care had been taken to treat it with any dignity - and the texture was such that we felt we were eating worms.  It also had no taste (and, as long as I'm ranting, I should add that the food at Coco Rocco tastes nothing like Peruvian food). Anyway, yuck.

Lima's Taste used to have a decent ceviche.  But ever since they moved from the East Village to Christopher St. in Greenwich Village, their quality control has been questionable (although they do serve a mean Lomo Saltado).

The best place to go is Jackson Heights (unless you have any other suggestions?), where there is a growing number of Peruvian restaurants, all serving quite decent ceviches and tiraditos.

But that's of little use if you don't live in the area...not that I mind a trip to Queens, it's just that I don't always have the time.

Lucky us that ceviche is quite easy to make. The key is fresh fish.

I like to go to Brooklyn Fare, where they have a very good selection of local fish - wild caught and farmed (I never used the frozen stuff).  My man is Franco, their fish specialist, who will tell you exactly which is the freshest of the lot and at exactly what time of the day they arrived.  He knows a lot about fish (and surprisingly about ceviche too), and will recommend a good substitute when there is no adequate sole available. I always go with his word.

I'm using this post as the perfect opportunity to experiment with my ceviche recipe - I made two versions.

Ceviche 1 was left to soak in salted water for 30-45 min. It was then drained, patted dry, and cut into 1/2 in chucks. In a shallow dish I rubbed a clove of crushed garlic and a bit of crushed ginger over the surface, leaving the garlic.  The fish is then added in one layer, salted and topped off with onion, habanero (used instead of aji), pepper, a bit of cilantro and lime juice. 

Ceviche 2 was left to marinade in milk (whole) for the same amount of time, 30-45 min.  Once the fish was cut, I placed it in a bowl and added onions, habanero, garlic paste, salt, pepper, and lime juice.

Both ceviches were made with fresh sole (caught that morning), with slightly less than 1/4 c of lime juice per 1/2 lb of fish, along with a generous amount of sliced onions. Neither sat for more than 10 minutes before being served.  Note: It is important to allow the sliced onions to sweat before mixing them with the fish - sprinkle them with salt and let them sit for at least an hour, then rinse before using. In addition, I added an ice cube to maintain freshness. As garnishes I served sweet potatoes - boiled with cinnamon and cloves, sliced and chilled - and cancha.

Cancha

The ceviche that sat in milk was by far the better recipe - the milk added a base to the citrus and gave the dish a much more complex flavor.  Alas, it is by no means a perfect ceviche.  The ingredients available here are too different from those found in Lima.  But, it was a good version and I think there is room for improvement.  Next time: ceviche made with key limes.

A guide to the Peruvian ceviche

Part I: In search of the perfect ceviche.

Ceviche at Juanito's

Okay, so maybe finding the perfect ceviche is a tall order,  but I would be hard pressed to say that it was found outside of Peruvian borders.

Apparently the origins of the dish are a bit contested.  There is evidence suggesting that the Moche civilization in the northern Peruvian coast had a similar variation of the dish, in which the fish is marinated with the fermented juice of a passionfruit. There is also evidence suggesting that the Incas created a similar concoction where the fish is marinated in chicha. Either way, scholars (food scholars?) generally agree that the modern dish as we now know it - a combination of fish and citrus juice - originated in coastal Peru during colonial times, when limes and other citrus fruit where brought over by Pizarro and his merry men.  

Ceviche at La Canta Rana

There are a great variety of ceviches, cebiches or seviches (depending on your regional preference), ranging from cooked shrimp with lime juice served with tomatoes and tostadas (Mexico), to raw fish marinated with vinegar (Phillipines) - side note: in a strange turn of events, my dad professed the Ecuadorian and Costa Rican ceviches pretty good too. But, the best is the Peruvian version. Not that I'm biased or anything.

The Peruvian ceviche is traditionally made of either corvina (sea bass) or lenguado (sole), cut into small pieces and then marinated for 10-15 minutes in a combination of limon (like a key lime, but not quite), thinly sliced red onions, and some diced aji limo. There are variations, of course, most notably in the amount of aji, the use of various other types of seafood (for example, el ceviche mixto usually comes with corvina, scallops, squid and octopus), and a few secret tips of the trade professed as indispensable by certain chefs of (dis)repute: a dab of milk;  fresh ginger or garlic rubbed on the serving plate; or a couple of ice cubes mixed in with the fish. The variations are quite endless. But, almost all ceviches are served with a side of camote (sweet potato), choclo, and a tall, cold glass of Cusquena (although my dad says that an exaggeration, since most Peruvians actually prefer a Pilsen).

Regardless, the traditional ceviche casero will likely have a rough, chunky cut of fish, as served at Juanito's, a seaside restaurant in the surfing town of Cerro Azul. The freshness of the fish makes up for the lackluster cut.  

Ceviche at Punta Sal

My preference is for the more modern ceviche (perfected by the Peruvian-Japanese chef, Dario Matsufuji, in the 1970's), which uses a delicate sashimi-style carved fish.  The tiradito is a variation of this method, taking the Japanese influence to a whole new level.  Thin, long slices of fish are served in a shallow dish with an aji rocoto or aji amarillo sauce, completely raw.  Punta Sal is one of Lima's more popular cevicherias, offering a great variety of ceviches, tiraditos and other Peruvian seafood specialties.

For a real taste of the innovations in gourmet ceviche that Lima now offers, I recommend both La Mar and Pescados Capitales (a play on pecados capitales - the seven deadly sins). Cheap, they are not. But, I've tried some of the best fish of my life there, so it's worth the extra buck (or more likely two).

Tiradito

Ceviche is a lunch time meal, so never make the faux pas of serving or ordering it for dinner.  It is professed to be the ideal hangover cure and the left-over sauce, leche de tigre (tiger's milk), is supposed to have the same effects as Viagra. Whether it works or not, I unfortunately never had the opportunity to verify (wink, wink). But, there must be some merit to it.  A shot of leche de tigre is often found on a cevicheria's menu as a popular number, served as either an aperitif or a digestif.

But, alas, what is the point of all of this if you're stuck in the brutal cold of a New York winter?

La Trixie chowing down on ceviche

Coming soon...Part II: Ceviche in the Big Apple

An Ode to One of My Favorite Things (and some mention of the street varietal as well)

Coffee. Where would I be without it?

It is posited that coffee was first discovered by Ethiopian goats, and only later adopted by humans. Since then, we humans have continually flip-flopped with our opinions on the delectable drink. In 1675, a king of England allegedly banned coffee houses as he believed the stimulating substance was causing (the) hoi polloi to plot against him. Soon thereafter, coffee was even scorned as the ‘devil’s drink’ by a 17^th century Pope. Lucky for us, he then decided to baptize the beans, enabling even the most sinful of laymen to drink the stuff.

Today, we’ve thankfully gotten past all this nonsense, and have come to love and to cherish coffee. So much, in fact, that some people are willing to pay three thousand US dollars for one pound of la crème de la crème. This audaciously expensive varietal is called Kopi Luwak. Farmed in Indonesia, the Philippines and East Timor, what makes it so special, so coveted, is that every bean has to make its journey through a small mammal’s intestine before being defecated and then lightly roasted. Sounds delicious indeed.

The paradox here in Peru is that while we continue to produce outstanding beans, we consume a disgusting amount of instant coffee (which, by the way, was invented by a Belgian man named George Washington). Peruvian street coffee leaves much to be desired: weak in flavor, unpalatably sweet, and served scalding in metallic cups that are sure to burn your fingertips. However, at four in the morning, it manages to do the trick.

How I long for the days of Front Range independent coffee shops, crowded with pompous, mediocre art, and their modishly aloof creators. Ok, so maybe I don’t quite miss the hipsters. But the coffee… oh, the coffee.

Breakfast Burritos

Jeremy's specialty is breakfast food and he makes some mean breakfast burritos. He agreed to let me take photos of him making them one morning.  However, he declined to write about them or how he learned to make them.  As far as I can gather, it's a combination of his Texan pride and love for bacon and eggs.

Jeremy

Being from Texas, he's quite picky about the ingredients.  Not just any tortillas will do.  He prefers the flour tortillas made fresh at Brooklyn Fare.  Similarly,  uses spicy chorizo AND bacon, a combination of oaxaca and cheddar cheeses, potatoes, and a green tomatillo sauce - in recent days he's been into the Xochitl brand.

 

He loves the cast iron skillet and will use it to cook the entire meal, starting with the bacon.  Once the bacon is nice and crispy he removes it and adds the potatoes to the pan, browning them and pushing them to the side as the chorizo is cooked.  Finally, the eggs are added along with the cheese.

The eggs cook fast.  Right before he removes them from the heat, he adds a spoonful or two of the tomatillo sauce. Wrapped in the tortillas, with a glass of OJ and a cup of coffee, it's a pretty great breakfast.

An Introduction to Bianca, Street Food & Maize

Bianca: An introduction

I am the younger, less crafty, yet more spontaneous (read: explosive) sister of Paloma, El Ayllu’s innovator. Also, in some way, since El Ayllu is a reference to an ancient Peruvian social structure, I am her right man, her ally behind enemy lines. Ok, that may be a bit of an exaggeration. Peru isn’t so much the enemy as it is our origin. Today, as two confused Peruvian-Americans, Paloma continues to recreate Peruvian dishes in the grand metropolis of New York City, while I try as best I can to recount the culinary happenings from the living Inca city of Ollantaytambo.

I love food, and though I have a naturally discriminatory palette, I have never had any due success in the kitchen. But the kitchen is a warm and inviting place, and I’ve always relished my role as Paloma’s sous chef. As such, I’ll leave the cooking to Paloma, and concentrate on what I know best. So, what do I know best? I love coffee, I’ve often claimed that I could survive off of any combination of rice and fish, and while currently living in Peru, I survive solely on street food.

I wanted for my contribution to be witty and whimsical, something that would highlight the immorality and desire that lies behind food and drink. Maybe something along the lines of ‘coffee & cigarettes’ (thank you Jarmusch). Alas, I am trying to quit smoking, and though I have a penchant for coffee, my ulcer and doctors would advise otherwise. So, street food it is: the very staples that keep me alive and functioning as an eccentric vagabond.

Street Food: Maize (Part I)

Maize, or corn as you English speakers will more surely comprehend, is the most widely grown crop in the Americas. In fact, humans worldwide produce more maize than rice and wheat in any given year. Currently the top culprits are the United States, China and Brazil, with other nations such as South Africa and Romania vying for spots in the top ten.

In my numbered years, I’ve seen corn used as food, alcohol, synthetic fibers, plastics, medicines, decorative centerpieces, backgrounds for bone chilling thrillers, and more recently, I have even seen corn utilized as Halloween costume. Apparently, corn always has an even number of rows on each ear. Thrilling.

Maize is indigenous to Mesoamerica, and is still used widely throughout the New World. In Peru, it is an invaluable staple of the highland diet, and I’m quite pleased to announce that corn season, after a brief stint, is back. Peruvian street corn dishes are endless; nonetheless, I’ve picked out a select few for you to contemplate.

Tamales

Often, I wish I lived in a larger town with greater street food alternatives and availability. Tamales, both sweet and salty, are one of those things I crave daily and search for vehemently within Ollantaytambo’s lackluster plaza de armas. When the tamale lady is there, poised to take my money, it’s a good day.

Made of a corn, egg, milk and butter dough, then wrapped back into the corn husks to be steamed til perfection, tamales are fairly easy to make yet hard to master. They can be served as a main dish, dessert, accompaniment, and can include raisins, cinnamon, beef, vegetables, virtually anything.

Chicha

Chicha: Peruvians very own home brew. A fermented corn beverage, slightly milky in color, slightly bitter in flavor and sometimes crafted with strawberries for special occasions, chicha is consumed daily by many individuals to provide the energy needed to continue their arduous work on fields and construction sites. Every time I enter a chicheria, I am reminded by the owners and patrons that chicha is better for you than beer, and that it doesn’t contain any or much alcohol. Great! I find, however, that the overwhelming feel of bodily intoxication might argue otherwise. Nevertheless, despite vacationers’ fears that it will inevitably cause travelers’ diarrhea, or worse, this individual thinks that it makes for a healthy alternative to the more frequented pisco sours and Cusqueñas.

Contrary to popular belief, the process of making chicha does not involve repeatedly chewing and spitting out corn in order to promote fermentation. Instead, it is brewed through an ever so simple and shockingly sterile process of boiling and reboiling. Although lacking in popularity in the northern Americas, Dogfish Head brewery did once make an attempt at chicha beer with limited success. Apparently they’ve made some modifications and had a go at it again in 2010 (Dogfish Head chicha). If you ever get a chance to try the real thing, please do. But if you can’t get to Peru, then at least get yourself to Delaware and try some of Dogfish Head’s concoction.

Choclo con queso

Unlike the yellow corn of the northern Americas, the corn here is drastically larger in size and only mildly sweet. A slab of salty cheese makes for an obvious and stellar accompaniment.

Despite numerous individuals’ claims that corn provides little to no nutritional value, choclo con queso currently reigns supreme in my current street food diet. A delectable cob of corn served up with a slice of cheese goes for approximately 72 US cents. And my mom still wonders how I could possible live off of so little a day.