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HARLINGEN — The smells tart and sweet and fresh come at me like a smooth curling wave of memory.
The wave rolling over me at Ceviche Ceviche is a chaotic and calming memory of spicy seaside nights eating seafood in the restaurants along the bayfront in the City of Panama.
I feel again the wind rolling off the Pacific and speaking to me a language I do not yet understand. I can taste the salt of the air and the sound of salsa music rushing from the windows of the passing cars. I can see the glitter of the lights of the city which swings all night.
My time in the Republic of Panama in the 1980s imparted to me the memories of turbulence and confusion and disturbance and yet glorious and beautiful and idyllic. It’s always been a perplexing medley of clashing emotions, although now so many years later I recall now the idyllic more than the insane.
But the windy bayfront of Panama City wasn’t turbulent at all. It was grand and fabulous, and the glimmering lights and the salsa music and the smells of the tropics awaken quickly within me as I enter Ceviche Ceviche at 2010 S. 77 Sunshine Strip.
The chop-chop-chopping along the make table behind a window sets free the captive smells of cilantro and onion and mango to roam through the dining room. They tease the imaginations of customers waiting for takeout or waiting to order or sitting at tables.
The young women at the make table laugh and talk playfully among themselves as they prepare with great vigor the orders of fish or shrimp or avocado or cucumbers or strawberries. They seem to genuinely enjoy themselves preparing the food with such a carnival of tastes and colors.
“Hi, welcome,” one young lady says to a customer who places his order.
The door rattles again as a young couple and then an old couple and then a solitary man enter behind him. It is a Sunday afternoon, a hot and sunny afternoon, and people want the refreshing experience of eating seafood at Ceviche Ceviche.
My eyes roam the patchwork of listings of dishes and ingredients and I hold a little one-man committee meeting in my head to discuss the matter.
Should I order The Classic with tomato and cilantro and red onion and avocado?
No. It has avocado. I don’t want avocado in my ceviche.
“How about The Islander with the mango and the melons and the cucumber and jicama?“
“No, those don’t belong in ceviche, that’s not even ceviche.”
“Says who?”
Says an older man who remembers a very different kind of ceviche many years ago in the cafes and restaurants in the City of Panama.
I had not been in Panama very many days when I heard of ceviche. I do not think I had heard of ceviche before that time, but I heard about it a great when I arrived there in 1982 to work as a U.S. Army photojournalist.
Everyone claimed that the ceviche in Panama was great and delicious and that I must try the ceviche. They gave extra accolades to this ceviche because it was made of freshly caught corvina which English speakers refer to as white sea bass. The special claim highlighted it was caught fresh and was not frozen. This fish was local.
I had no way of knowing if indeed the ceviche in Panama was the greatest ceviche in all the world as I had never had ceviche in any place. But I was eager to explore the country and the cultures of the country and of course that included the culinary culture.
I did eat the Panama ceviche at my very earliest opportunity. I do not know the exact place or moment, but I know I had ceviche quite often during my 3 1/2 years there and it was very good. I remember a fresh ceviche tangy and delicious made with sea salt and lemon juice and celery and cilantro and different peppers.
I do not recall in my Panama days any ceviche prepared with mangos or melons or strawberries or grapes offered at Ceviche Ceviche in Harlingen, and so at first those ingredients do not interest me. I can order a shrimp ceviche or a dish made with tuna, but that also does not hold any appeal for me.
What does catch my attention is the fish ceviche with my choice of four ingredients. I look through a list and select the green olives and the capers and the red onion and the cilantro.
The young lady at the register quickly takes my order and I take a seat and wait for my ceviche. The bite and the pinch and the thrill of innovation surrounds me and inspires me. The pictures on my table show different ceviche plates with swirls of avocado and mango and fish and the colors seem to dance although they do not move. The colors and the designs of the ceviche plates invoke a sense of movement.
The music of the dining area is an eclectic mix of styles and times. Some of the songs I do not know or understand but the instrumentals and the beats indicate the contemporary music of which I know very little. I come from the time of classic rock and disco music and folk rock, the time of Jim Groce and Aerosmith and the Bee Gees. I sometimes mourn the fading into history of that time, and then suddenly Leo Sayer is singing his 1976 hit “You make me feel like dancing.”
Someone knows their music.
I think of the ceviche I ordered and realize as I was looking at the list of ingredients my eyes instantly landed on the capers, something I had not thought of for quite some time. The capers, I realize as I now enjoy the fine meal, remind me of the time many years ago and not so many years after my return from Panama when I went searching for a ceviche recipe.
I realize now, not so much then, that my explorations of the southern regions and the tropical places of Panama and Peru had already imprinted on me a passion for things Latin American. I’d acquired without intention a foundation toward the explorations of Latin America, the food and the music and the people and fragrances. It was a rough foundation, one of which I would not become aware for quite some time.
Now I remember another ceviche, this time in the Galapagos Islands. In this vivid memory I’m in the galley of “La Pirata”, a small boat which took me and my companions on a nine-day voyage through these fascinating places.
The talented and innovative chef goes the extra mile to ensure we get the full experience. While we walk on the islands, he puts on his mask and snorkel and dives beneath the rocks to capture lobsters.
In the galley in the evening we enjoy a fine ceviche made of fresh lobster, something fine and glorious and memorable in the tropical place of Latin America.
And still there’s that wind, that enchanting wind and the rolling sea late in the night, when I sit on the deck and look into the stars and try to understand the language of that wind and what it’s telling me.
Thank you, Ceviche Ceviche. Next time I’m gonna try the mango ceviche and the one with the strawberries and the one that …
