Global Cuisine

On a trip to Northern Spain in the spring, I discovered pintxos.

In Spanish bars, the appetizers served with beverages are tapas (about which everyone knows), pintxos and bocadilas. There's an easy way to distinguish one from the other. No bread on the plate, it's tapas. One slice of grilled bread, pintxos. Two pieces of bread (or a roll), bocadillas.

Bar food can be as simple as a bowl of beer nuts, but in Spain having a bite to eat in a bar means something very different.

On the trip, we ate elaborately designed pintxos with shrimps riding bareback on saddles of caramelized onions and smoked salmon that topped freshly grilled slices of sourdough bread.

Others featured anchovies with hardboiled eggs, whole roasted piquillo (small red peppers) stuffed with tuna fish, prosciutto wrapped around wild arugula leaves, delicately thin omelets rolled around finely chopped seasoned tomatoes and flat strips of roasted red bell peppers topped with slabs of brie and an anchovy fillet.

The invention and flavors of pintxos are unlimited. Think of wonderfully supportive flavors and textures to place on top the solid foundation of a thin slice of grilled bread and you have a beautiful and tasty appetizer to go with an ice cold beer, glass of crisp white wine or a refreshing summer cocktail like fresh fruit Sangria.

If you ever visit a San Diego farmers' markets, then chances are you'll see several people milling around who are holding tall, clear plastic cups filled with deliciously ripe fresh fruit such as mangoes, pineapple, and watermelon that have been doused with lime juice, salt, and chili pepper. They may be eating the fruit with a long toothpick (or just with their hands, if they don't mind sticky fingers).

These fruit cups, called copas de frutas in Spanish, are the inspiration for today's recipe: salty, sweet, and tangy Chili Lime Fruit Salad. I have incorporated seasonal fruit such as fresh strawberries, blood oranges, and kumquats, but feel free to substitute what's available where you live.

I added jicama (pronounced hee-kah-mah), also known as a Mexican potato or turnip. It's a large, dense root vegetable with a thin beige peel and a juicy, creamy white flesh. What does jicama taste like? Jicama tastes sort of like a cross between an apple, a potato, and celery. It's mildly sweet and exceptionally crunchy, like a water chestnut.

When ever I am asked what would my last meal be, the answer is always the same; a crispy taco.  Crispy tacos are way at the top of my list of favorites and I have absolutely no will power when it comes to ordering in a Mexican restaurant.  Intellectually, I know I should be ordering the soft tacos with grilled chicken or grilled shrimp in a Verde sauce.  But I just can’t seem to help myself.

Growing up, a typical day was swimming at the Nathan’s pool, doing some arts and crafts, and then gathering up my friends and riding our bikes to Taco Tio. Taco Tio was a typical little taco stand about 3/4 of a mile from my house. Food was ordered through a sliding mesh screen and there were a few stools that sat under the outside, very high counter.  I would order my crispy tacos, sit on those stools,  and watch the lady make and assemble my afternoon snack. When Taco Tio closed and a sub shop tooks it place, it was a sad day in the neighborhood.  And to this day, I have had a hard time replacing the taste of both their tacos or those memories.

My love affair with food began in the dim dark ages of the glorious 1990’s, when neon was king and it was cool to rock a mullet while listening to Marky Mark and his Funky Bunch.  Born in San Diego and being brought up by a Hawaiian family from beautiful Kaneohe, greatly impacted my palate, and brought me to the culinary forefront well before my time.

The Hawaiian family unit is a large extended conglomeration made up of relatives and friends of the family, which basically makes dinnertime feel like riding ‘It’s a Small World’ at Disneyland, where everyone I’m not related to is either an ‘aunt,’ ‘uncle,’ or a ‘cousin.’ So in other words, it made finding a prom date that wasn’t a cousin, quite difficult. (That’s my excuse)