Peruvian food’s having a bit of what the fashion desk might call a “moment” — in the novelty-hungry capital at least. I shall have to rely on all of you outside the London bubble to inform me whether Margate is now going mad for mondongo, or Crewe crazy for cuy, but here three new restaurants specialising in the Peruvian cuisine have opened in the last six months. And, of course, in the manner of any self-respecting food trend there’s a Peruvian pop-up, called, rather wonderfully, The Last Days of Pisco.
Many of the dishes on offer — the halibut with Andean herbs at Lima London, or the pumpkin and sweet potato doughnuts at Tierra Peru — are not likely to become staples in British kitchens, but one dish which appears on all the menus, ceviche, really deserves to be brought to the attention of fish lovers.
OK, so it’s not strictly Peruvian — it’s common throughout Latin America, and I first came across it at a Mexican beach shack, but it’s so associated with the country that they’ve declared a national holiday in honour of this vital piece of their culinary heritage.
Ceviche, for those that steer clear of such vulgar things as trends, is, at its most basic, raw fish marinated in citrus juice and spices; the acid in the juice denatures the proteins in the meat in much the same way as cooking would. The flesh becomes opaque, the texture firmer and dryer, yet the flavours remain spanking fresh: it’s the perfect zingy dish for a warm autumn day. American chef Rick Moonen describes it as a “citrus cocktail”, which sounds about right.
In Ecuador, they commonly add tomato sauce, while in Central America ceviche is often served salsa-style with tacos or tostadas, but in Peru, simplicity seems to reign supreme. Fish or shellfish, citrus, chilli, perhaps some onion — why would you want anything more? As the American writer Calvin Trillin put it in a wonderful article on the subject for the now-defunct Gourmet magazine, “I would imagine that Peruvians consider their version of ceviche stately and Ecuadoreans consider it dull.” But trust me, for the British palate, at least, the dish is anything but.
The fish
It goes without saying that any fish served raw should be spanking fresh, but even in Peru there’s no single species that’s particularly favoured for ceviche. It makes sense to use the local catch and the species used changes depending on availability: inland, freshwater fish such as trout replace the corvina, sea bass or shark of the coast. Henrietta Clancy, chef at the Last Days of Pisco (and, in the spirit of full and frank disclosure, also a good friend of mine) has experimented with various species. In theory, she says, any white fish can be used, but “many fragile fish can become rubbery or totally dissolve in the lime juice”.
She plumps for sea bass: it retains its flavour and texture and is the closest thing to the tilapia she ate in Peru last year. Martin Morales, the man behind the appropriately-named Ceviche in Soho, suggests “dover sole or other white fish”, Tom Aikens recommends sea bream in his fish cookbook, and Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and Nick Fisher suggest black bream or sea bass in The River Cottage Fish Book noting, like Henrietta, that “firm, well-muscled varieties such as bream and bass are ideal ... but we have had good results with gurnard and pollack as well”.
Elisabeth Luard, author of The Latin American Kitchen, calls for salmon in a recipe I clipped out of Waitrose Food Illustrated years ago and have been using ever since, and Olive magazine uses a mixture of plaice and salmon.
I find the salmon too strong a flavour: it’s nice, but it doesn’t take on the flavour of the lime and spices in the same way as the white fish. Plaice and sole, meanwhile, seem a little dry and flaky once marinated. The bass and bream get the universal thumbs up: as Henrietta suggested, they stand up well to the acid, remaining juicy throughout.
To dice or slice?
The cut is also important, and suggestions range from largeish (3x2cm chunks) from Morales to slicing the fish “as thinly as possible” from olive. Henrietta advises that dicing, rather than slicing, will “ensure a good distribution of raw fish and fish cooked on the outside” — contrast between the inside and the outside is important, but I actually find that, with Martin's recipe, there’s too much raw fish because the chunks are so large. I prefer the more intense citrus flavour of Tom Aikens’ small dice, but I’m going to make them slightly bigger to highlight the different textures in the dish.
Citrus
The chief marinating ingredient is, of course, citrus juice. Lime is most commonly used, but lemons and even Seville oranges are sometimes seen (the latter, unlike ordinary oranges, having the requisite acidity for the job). I can’t find any recipes calling for them, perhaps fortunately, as they’re not in season, but Hugh and Nick’s does utilise a mixture of lime, lemon and orange. Aikens uses lemon, zest and juice, while everyone else sticks with lime in varying amounts, Morales using 15 for 600g of fish, nearly five times as many as the olive recipe.
I prefer the fruity sharpness of limes here to the sourness of lemons, but Henrietta tells me she feels that the limes in this country are less sweet than the ones in Peru. So although I can’t really taste it in the River Cottage marinade, I adopt the idea of adding orange juice to tame the sourness. The bitterness of the zest, though, feels wrong here — it’s a distraction from the clean flavour of the juice.
Henrietta uses mixed peel in her celery, parsley and orange ceviche, which I really like — the sweetness is a pleasant contrast to the zingy marinade, but I have to concede that it’s probably not an essential. It is, however, absolutely vital to use a generous amount of citrus — that way you get a good spoonful along with the fish. Peruvians often drink the leftover marinade, known as tiger’s milk, after finishing the dish itself, but this is strictly optional.
Alliums
Alliums of some sort are almost non-negotiable: Aikens and olive use finely chopped shallots while everyone else goes for red onion. I prefer the more straightforward sweetness of the latter, but I think soaking it in iced water briefly before use, such as Morales, is essential if it isn’t to overpower the entire dish. It seems more usual to leave the onion in thin strips, but I’m going to finely dice it so every bite of ceviche has a good balance of flavour.
Spices and other ingredients
Everyone apart from Aikens uses chilli, but the only recipe I find calling for the aji amarillo, a fruity pepper described by Henrietta as having a citrussy, almost pineapple-like flavour and popular in Peruvian cooking, is her own. They’re difficult to track down in this country, but you can order them dried online, or find them frozen in South American shops — I reconstitute a dried chilli, and pound it into a paste for Henrietta’s ceviche. The fruity tanginess works well with the lime, and if you can find it, it’s well worth a try, but a vibrant red bird’s eye chilli will add heat and a splash of colour.
Generosity with the salt, a step missed by many recipes, seems essential: the twin punch of the lime and the salt is an essential part of ceviche's appeal. Henrietta rubs it on the fish and leaves it to sit for a minute so the surface “is more receptive to the marinating liquid”. This is a good tip: the fish seems to absorb the flavours better, both of the marinade and the seasoning itself.
Herbs such as coriander and parsley are often included to add freshness: coriander is most popular in the recipes I try, but Flor Arcaya de Deliot, author of The Food and Cooking of Peru, uses parsley instead, as well as celery, which also features in the River Cottage recipe. I find the pepperiness of the parsley less pleasing with the lime and the fish than the fresh flavour of the coriander.
Marinating time
Marinating time varies wildly, from Tom, who serves it as soon as it’s all mixed together, to River Cottage, who suggest leaving it “for a minimum of an hour and a maximum of 12 hours; 34 hours is about perfect”. I find even 4 hours excessive: the fish has become chalky and dry. Tom’s, meanwhile, is good, but undeniably sashimi-like (the Peruvians in fact have their own version of this, called tiradito). Flor goes for 30 minutes, while Henrietta says she tends to tend towards a shorter marination, to maximise the contrast “between what your dish tastes like at the beginning of the meal compared to what you get at the end”. I find 10 minutes perfect: the outside layer of the fish has absorbed the flavour of the marinade, while the insides remain soft and juicy. So simple, yet so utterly delicious.
Perfect ceviche
Serves 2
1/2 red onion, finely chopped
250g skinless and boneless sea bass or sea bream fillets
1/2tsp salt, plus extra to season
Juice of 4 limes
Juice of 1/2 orange
1 red chilli, shredded, or 1tsp aji amarillo paste
Small bunch of coriander, roughly chopped
Put the chopped onion into iced water and soak for 5 minutes, then drain well. Cut the fish into 11/2-2cm cubes and rub with the 1/2 tsp salt. Leave for a minute. Add the citrus juices and the chilli and leave to marinate for 10 minutes. Check the seasoning and adjust if necessary. Divide the fish and marinade between 2 bowls, scatter with coriander and serve immediately.
— Guardian News and Media Limited
