The Seafood of Veracruz
By Zarela Martinez
Los Angeles Times
October 21, 1998 in print edition H-1
For the first 12 years of my life, the only fish I ever ate were frozen haddock filets at Luby’s Cafeteria in El Paso, Texas. They were fried in a thick crust and I ate them with a quarter cup of tartar sauce to disguise whatever fish flavor they might have. We lived across the border in Chihuahua state, Mexico, on a cattle ranch far from the ocean. The only fresh fish we knew were the catfish that flourished in the nearby dams. They were so ugly we never thought to eat them. I could cry now to think of all the years I missed the joys of fresh fish.
The first Mexican fish dish I ever had was pescado a la Veracruzana. No wonder, since it’s probably the second-best-known Mexican dish, right after mole poblano. And like mole, it has suffered for its popularity: It’s one of the most abused and ill-interpreted recipes in the Mexican culinary repertoire. I’ve even heard of cooks making it with canned peas and black olives.
Originating from Veracruz, the coastal state where the Spaniards first landed, it preserves the Spanish heritage, as shown by the use of (green) olives, capers and Old World herbs: bay leaves, thyme and marjoram. It also has the New World addition of tomatoes and chiles–usually pickled banana peppers–that make it an inspired mestizo dish.
It has become a classic sauce throughout Mexico, especially for red snapper (huachinango) and other fish. But it goes well with many foods. My mother serves it with braised tongue, pork chops and chicken, and at my restaurant, Zarela, in New York, it makes a piquant complement to fried calamari. It’s a delicious sauce for pasta, too.
But salsa a la veracruzana is only one little frame in the Veracruz seafood picture. Veracruz state is a long, skinny strip of green tropical lowland running northwest to southeast along the Gulf of Mexico. Its coastline is about as long as the Atlantic coast of Florida, and its waters teem with red and other snappers, pompano, snook, grouper and mojarra (a prized local fish with no English name), not to mention a profusion of oysters, shrimp and crab. In addition, the state is fed by more than 40 rivers and has countless lakes, so it also has access to plenty of freshwater fish and shellfish.
The way these foods are prepared mirrors the particular ethnic mix of Veracruz. The first inhabitants, the Olmecs and Mayas, created a sophisticated cuisine that drew on all this bounty, often incorporating other local products like corn, chiles and native herbs. The Spanish added Old World ingredients and their own cooking techniques. They also brought slaves to work the cane fields, and a strong African element often mingles with the Indian and Spanish traditions. Nowhere is this fusion of cuisines more evident than in Veracruzan seafood cookery.
Though seafood was not a part of my growing up, over the years I’ve become known for red snapper hash (salpicon de huachinango), the most popular appetizer in my restaurant. When I was starting my culinary career in El Paso in the late ’70s, my mother discovered this fabulous dish at a bar near the Laguna de Paniagua, a lake in the northern part of Veracruz, at the border of Tampico state, and I immediately appropriated it. I was captivated by the unexpected mixture of flavors–the fish is seasoned with canela (Ceylon cinnamon), cumin and cloves.
Now that I’ve traveled throughout the state, I know that almost every coastal town makes salpicon differently; the only constant is shredded seafood. This regional character is evidenced in the rich and varied Veracruzan seafood preparations.
Though I heartily recommend a trip through this wonderful and largely unknown state, you do not have to go the entire length of Veracruz to sample all this wealth. Go to the bustling port of Veracruz city and take a short cab ride to the small town of Boca del Rio. I venture to say there are more seafood restaurants to the inch there than anywhere else in Mexico, and most are very good. (Though I must voice a complaint. The seafood is often overcooked, reflecting the tastes of the mostly Mexican tourists who visit the area.)
Here I tasted arroz a la tumbada, a rice dish–not quite a paella, a risotto or a soup–full of fish, octopus and shellfish and flavored with chiles and epazote. It hails from the nearby port of Alvarado.
Another classic that lends itself to many interpretations is torta de mariscos. This particular kind of “torte” is a patty of fish and shellfish bound with beaten eggs (and possibly dipped in eggs as well) and fried. The tortas range in size from 3 to 10 inches and can be like crisp, firm crab cakes, thin frittatas or fluffy omelets. On a recent trip to Veracruz, I had torta de mariscos made in every possible way, but the omelet style is my favorite. Because the beaten egg is folded into the seafood, it yields a moist and tender delicacy and I often serve this as a first course with a spicy sauce on the side.
Indigenous Mexican herbs like hoja santa (Piper sanctum or P. auritum) and epazote season seafood dishes throughout the state of Veracruz. Almost every town has a version of pescado en acuyo, which is fish (a whole fish or a filet) wrapped in the large, delicate anise-scented leaves of hoja santa (acuyo is the local name for it) and then grilled, baked or poached in a flavorful broth. Now that fresh hoja santa is becoming increasingly available in farmers’ markets and through mail order from growers in Texas, this is a tasty, low-calorie option when preparing fish.
If fresh hoja santa leaves aren’t available, you can buy (or order) the dried leaves from many markets with Central American clienteles. Though they are too crumbly to serve as wrappers, they add their wonderful perfume to sauces and soup.
In sea bass in green soup (caldo de robalo verde), hoja santa is used in combination with epazote and cilantro. I love this flavorful, light sauce and often use it with other seafood.
Because I’m always on a diet, I strive to add flavor without extra calories when I cook. For years I’ve been eating grilled shrimp or fish with a sauce made of chopped jalapenos and freshly squeezed lime juice that I thought I had created. Little did I know that all this time I was eating another Veracruz specialty from the spectacular Lake Catemaco area: fish in chile and lime (pescado en chile-limon). This simple preparation is made by crushing chiles with a little salt and lime juice. Nowadays many cooks also add garlic and onion, and sometimes tomatillos and cilantro. The sauce is tart and refreshing and goes well with either grilled or pan-fried fish.
I’ve always believed that most dried chiles are just too assertive for seafood. But Veracruzans have no such prejudice, and they’ve converted me. They use chipotle chile (called chile seco in Veracruz) with abandon in seafood dishes. They mix it with mayonnaise to make a sort of Mexican aioli, which is often served with steamed crab claws or poached shrimp. Chipotle lends its bold, smoky flavor to a sauce made with ancho chiles and guajillo chiles for shrimp in chipotle sauce (camarones enchipotlados), another Veracruzan staple often made with large langostinos. I often substitute jumbo shrimp, always trying to buy them with heads on and cook them in the shell for maximum flavor.
These are but a few of the wonderful dishes I’ve encountered in my travels. A whole book could be written on the food of Veracruz (and I will write it). It’s time to go beyond pescado a la veracruzana!
Finding the Ingredients:
The chiles called for in these recipes are available at Latino markets and many supermarkets. Ancho chiles are available everywhere; guajillos are a little rarer. Canned chipotles (chipotles en escabeche) are easier to find than the dried form.
The season for fresh epazote is drawing to a close, but it’s available in dried or fresh form at Latino markets such as the Vallarta chain in the San Fernando Valley (if it’s not on display, ask somebody in the produce department for it).
Epazote also grows wild in Southern California. It’s a small bush with serrated leaves that taper like rather narrow arrowheads. If you’re familiar with the common weed lamb’s-quarters, to which epazote is related, just look for a similar weed with medium green leaves and a sweet, resinous fragrance. At this time of year, it, like lamb’s-quarters, will have abundant chartreuse sprays of seeds among the leaves.
Hoja santa, also known as hierba santa, is quite rare at the moment, but its palm-sized, anise-scented leaves are usually available at Bill Coleman’s herb stand at the Wednesday Santa Monica farmers’ market. N.B.: The wild plant known in California as yerba santa is a medicinal herb unrelated to hoja santa, and the yerba santa sold in supermarkets and most Latino markets is just spearmint.
SHRIMP OR LANGOUSTINES IN CHIPOTLE SAUCE (Camarones o Langostinos Enchipotlados)
When I had this bold, simple version of a Veracruzan classic at the Casa Bonilla restaurant in Coatepec, it was made with langostinos, about the size of French langoustines. Here I substitute jumbo shrimp, which should be bought with the heads on and cooked in the shell for maximum flavor. The place to look for shrimp with heads is a Chinese or Southeast Asian fish market. Note that the chipotle chiles are added at different times, depending on whether you use dry or canned ones.
SEAFOOD TORTA (Torta de Mariscos)
This is a great party dish, and it would also be wonderful at brunch, made as small individual omelets. You can vary the seafood as you like, but the combination shouldn’t be too watery and should add up to around 2 1/4 to 2 1/2 pounds. The tricky part of the dish is flipping the “pancake” or “omelet.” I use a 10-inch nonstick frying pan that comes with a matching flat lid and slide the torte onto the lid when it’s done on one side.
GREEN SOUP WITH SEA BASS (Caldo Verde de Robalo)
VERACRUZ SAUCE (Salsa ala Veracruzana)
It seems as if there are as many variations of this sauce as there are cooks in the state of Veracruz. Some people like to make a tomato puree then add the other ingredients; others prefer to mince them and let them cook down to a thick paste. Still others prefer a chunky tomato texture. The essential thing is that the tomatoes be ripe and juicy, and I don’t hesitate to use canned plum tomatoes when fresh ones are not at their peak.
The constants in the recipe are the olive oil, capers, pimiento-stuffed olives and pickled chiles. The other flavorings vary, though most versions include bay leaves. In Veracruz City, I encountered this delicious recipe, which is flavored with other herbs as well, adding greater dimension.
To buy Zarela’s Veracruz (Houghton Mifflin 2001)
For travel information to Veracruz www.visitmexico.com
