When I tried the first bite I was met with an explosion of flavor of soft cubed fish, tangy onion, a crunch of cancha, balanced with a subtle sweetness from the yam. As a lover of citrus and avoider of fish, I loved how the excess of lime completely covered up any fishy taste, making for a delightfully refreshing mouthful. It felt like taking a sip of a cold lemonade on a sweltering sunny day sitting on a Caribbean beach.
A few weeks after tasting it in Lima, I got the privilege of helping my host mom in the complicated process of preparing ceviche. First she boiled fresh trout to make a fish broth, then cut the raw fish into bite-size pieces. She made a dressing for the fish by blending ricotto, cilantro, celery, the broth, garlic, and heaps of lime. As she put on two types of potatoes to boil, she let the fish marinate in the dressing. Then, she cut up some more celery and fried some fish. She lay down a bed of lettuce, followed by the potatoes, the raw fish, onions, celery, fried fish and finally cancha.
The best ceviche is tied to the freshness of the seafood. In Lima, since it's on the coast, the sushi-grade seafood from the ocean makes all the difference in the tastiness of the dish. On the other hand, my site in Junín is located in the valley of the Andes mountains and we have two rivers that run through the village which contain trucha, or trout. To be able to safely consume raw fish, trucha is usually the go-to to make ceviche in my region.
