The First Taste of Mexico

Playa Gaviotas through the window of Pancho's Restaurant, Mazatlan, Mexico

Mazatlan, Mexico 2012. Camarones al Coco (Coconut Shrimp) at Pancho's Restaurant 

I first tried Mexican fare during that memorable year as an exchange student in Oklahoma. My Spanish teacher (and at that time my future second host mom) hosted a big party—a true Mexican feast with music, soft drinks, endless bottles of Corona, and hearty flavors of home-made Mexican food.  As I walked in the door, I was overwhelmed by such unique, unknown, and yet surprisingly comforting flavors of cumin, chili peppers, lime, and cilantro escaping from the kitchen. But I guess there was one more thing that added to the immediate charm of the evening. My first love, a handsome Mexican American boy, happened to be my Spanish teacher’s son and he was the one who greeted me at the door with a big smile and that inexplicable charming shyness that used to make my head spin.

Belarusian cuisine is devoid of hot spices. Garlic (yes, garlic!), black pepper, and bitter Bulgarian pepper were the only “hot” encounters I had known up to that point. Feeling brave and desperately wanting to impress the object of my growing attraction, I courageously loaded my plate with a hefty serving of Mexican rice with shrimp and topped it all off with very generous helpings of red and green salsa. Catching my Spanish teacher’s concerned look, I proudly declared that I LOVED hot food and that it wouldn’t be too hot for me. 

Oh, that first bite… The tears started rolling out of the my eyes, when I, gasping for air and thinking the flames were going to literally come out of my mouth and burn me and everyone around, I gulped down a whole can of Sprite without even thinking about it. The heat would not go away. It would linger on my burned palate as I was trying to smile and show that the heat was not such a big deal.  I did not touch the salsa again that night, secretly hoping that my boyfriend did not notice my struggle.

And then, twelve years later, sitting with my family at the Pancho’s Restaurant in Mazatlan, Mexico and inhaling warm, salty air of the Sea of Cortez and, I kept wondering why the two bowls of salsa served with fresh tortilla chips were not hot enough for me. My taste for heat has grown over the years. I would even say it matured as I learned savoring the most subtle variations of different hot sauces and spices. So, when the waiter served us a beautiful platter of Mexican Coconut Prawns (or Camarones al Coco), I was unexpectedly surprised by the overwhelming amount of sweetness of the shrimp itself, its sugary breading and, finally, sweet cream sauce drizzled over the top of the shrimp. 

I felt that I needed a cocktail sauce, more heat, more salt (?) to offset that wave of sweetness. A newborn Northwesterner in me cried for at least one tangy squeeze of lemon. Yes, there were tiny limes (or limones) served with the meal, but I found that in Mexico, limes have a very unique tart flavor infused with a hint of honey.  I have to say that their taste is very different from the flavor profile of their zesty counterparts I have grown accustomed to in the Pacific Northwest.  But at the same time, I knew that my first meal in Mexico could not be better or different, because it managed to accumulate the experiences of the past and the present in one delicious serving of Mazatlan shrimp.

You may ask why I did not ask for the recipe… Although I am yet to discover that perfect breaded shrimp recipe, I felt that asking for it would not be appropriate right then. At that time, it seemed that getting into the technicalities of breading and frying would spoil the moment of true bliss and enjoyment of my, “second” first true Mexican meal.

Nonetheless, I think I can officially announce that my quest for the ultimate breaded shrimp has begun.