Washington Post Express - The Fish List: Ceviche Gone Wild

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN a fish goes on an acid trip? No, it doesn't start wearing psychedelic colors or playing "Sgt. Pepper's"-era Beatles tunes. That flounder or snapper becomes ceviche.

The spelling of this traditional South American dish varies - you say ceviche; I say seviche or cebiche - from Belize to Venezuela. But it's generally pronounced seh-VEE-cheh or seh-VEE-chee. And the raw, yet sort-of-cooked dish is always made from fresh fish or seafood that's been marinated in citrus juice (and combined with veggies and spices). The acid in the juice "cooks" or pickles the fish, firming the flesh and turning it opaque.
However you explain its strange prep process, ceviche will be a star at dinner parties or cocktail bashes. Served cold or at room temperature, it's tangy, spicy and meaty - a bit like sashimi that's had a dust-up with a bowl of salsa.

Ceviche's origins are as cloudy as a South American rain forest. Many food historians think Peruvian fishermen started squeezing scurvy-fighting oranges or limes into their catches of the day as early as the 14th century. Later, chiles, onions and spices upped the concoction's flavor and fame. In Peru, where it's considered the national dish, some say ceviche will halt sleepwalking, cure hangovers or up one's sex drive.

Regional variations on the seafood melange mean an ambitious host could chop and marinate his or her way to an all-ceviche buffet. There's Peruvian-style, with fish cooked in lime juice and aji chile peppers, then dished up with sweet potatoes or corn. In Ecuador, ceviche is pickled in orange juice and served with popcorn. And in Mexico, tomato-flecked fish gets folded into toasted tortillas.

U.S. chefs tend to create Latin-inspired combos using salmon, scallops or squid in juices such as grapefruit and lemon. Toss-ins range from hot peppers to sweet fruits like mango or papaya. Riffs even include fin-free options - think blanched duck.

"The beauty of it is that ceviche is very, very simple," says Ismael Otarola, the executive chef with Latin Concepts, who oversees local ceviche-slinging restaurants Guarapo (2039 Wilson Blvd., Arlington), Mate (3101 K St. NW) and Ceviche (2404 Wisconsin Ave. NW and 921-J Ellsworth Dr., Silver Spring). "It doesn't have many ingredients and will take less than 10 minutes."

While ceviche may be easy to whip up, many are intimidated by preparing fish that hasn't done time in a hot oven or frying pan. "People think, 'I'm afraid I'm going to poison myself'," says Francine Segan, author of "The Opera Lover's Cookbook" ($23, Stewart, Tabori & Chang). "To alleviate that concern, go to a good fishmonger, someone you really trust."

"Find a place that will let you see the whole fish," suggests Joe Raffa, chef at Penn Quarter's Oyamel (401 7th St. NW). "You want the eyes clear and the gills bright red." He suggests M. Slavin and Sons (2710 S. Glebe Road, Arlington), which sells to restaurants as well as to home cooks, and any branch of Whole Foods.

At the seafood counter, ask for the most recently arrived, white-flesh fish and have it filleted on the spot. In general, avoid anything that has a fishy, ammonia-like odor and buy it within 24 hours of preparation. "What's important is to find a fish that has the right consistency," says Otarola. "You want a soft, white fish that's pretty consistent throughout. Flounder is popular."

For the traditional Peruvian version, you'll also need lime juice, spicy aji chile peppers (check at a Latin market or Whole Foods), minced garlic, ginger, celery, cilantro, sliced red onions and salt and pepper. Cut the fish into equal chunks about a quarter- to a half-inch thick, sprinkle a little salt on it, and stir in the rest of the ingredients.

"How long you marinate it depends on the size of your fish," says Raffa. "You're just trying to get the outside cooked. The bigger the cut of fish, the longer you need to marinate it. For bite-sized pieces, I would marinate it for about 10 minutes in the fridge."
The amount of citrus to use can be another challenge for newbie ceviche makers. "Before I start playing around, I would try a recipe," advises Segan. Otarola agrees, cautioning, "You don't want to overcook the fish in the lime juice. You also don't want it swimming in it. Just add enough to cover about half the fish."

"It gets dry if you overcook it," says Raffa, who says to serve ceviche right away for food safety and to keep it from getting overdone. "It's like cooking it with heat for too long - it's going to be chewy."

But this is a dish that rewards experimentation. Once you're comfortable with a traditional ceviche, start adding your own flair. "You could try all kinds of chiles and sweet peppers," says Segan. "Then, besides the acid of lime or lemon, you can add a splash of sherry. Play with the presentation, too. You can take the pretty green husks of corn and serve it on that. Or try a wine or martini glass."

And you don't have to stick with white fish. Try scallops, black conch or shrimp, suggests Otarola. Some types of seafood, like shrimp, need to be blanched first. Check with your fishmonger if you're uncertain.

Which ingredients should you add to the fish? "The options are endless," says Otarola. "Use your imagination. You can do anything."

"There's a lot of acid in those dishes, which is why most Latin cultures serve it with something to balance that," says Raffa, who points to Peru's sweet potato accompaniment. "Try something with a little fat, like avocado. Or something crunchy like corn nuts or chips."

And what's the best libation to cheer your ceviche success? Perhaps a dry white wine like a pinot grigio or a chardonnay that's not too oaky, maybe from South America. And Raffa says, "You can never go wrong with a good margarita."

If those long-dead Peruvian fishermen had carried blenders on their boats, they'd be set for a modern party.

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