Shrimp Ceviche Tostadas

Thirty-seven weeks. Jessica is, in her words, "done." Not medically done — the baby is staying put for at least three more weeks — but emotionally, physically, spiritually done with being pregnant. "I want my body back," she said on Monday, lying on the couch with her feet elevated and a bag of frozen peas on her lower back. "I want to see my feet. I want to sleep on my stomach. I want to not have a human being using my organs as a bounce house." I nodded sympathetically. I also made her a milkshake, because milkshakes fix everything, and if they don't fix everything, they at least make the unfixable more tolerable.

August in Phoenix with a full-term pregnant wife is a special kind of challenge. The house is air-conditioned to sixty-eight degrees, which Jessica requires for comfort and which makes the rest of us feel like we're living in a refrigerator. Sofia wears a jacket inside. I wear a flannel. The electric bill is going to be catastrophic. We don't care. Pregnant women get what pregnant women want. This is the law.

I've been adjusting my shift trades to cluster my off-days around Jessica's due date. The fire department is good about this — the guys trade shifts without complaint when a baby is coming, because every one of them has been through it or will be. Orozco offered to cover any shift I need. Ruiz said "just go, Chef, we'll survive on pizza." The idea of my crew eating pizza instead of real food makes me physically uncomfortable, but priorities are priorities.

My parents are on standby. Elena has a bag packed to come stay with Sofia the moment Jessica goes into labor. Roberto has been giving me advice about being in the delivery room that I didn't ask for and don't need but am absorbing anyway: "Don't look at the doctor, look at your wife. Hold her hand. Don't faint. And whatever you do, don't say 'I know how you feel,' because you don't." This is, without question, the best advice Roberto Rivera has ever given me, and he has given me a lifetime of good advice.

Made something cooling this week: ceviche. Fresh shrimp "cooked" in lime juice and orange juice, tossed with diced tomato, red onion, cucumber, cilantro, jalapeño, and avocado. Served on tostadas with a drizzle of hot sauce. It's the perfect August food — cold, bright, acidic, and you don't have to turn on the stove. Jessica ate it sitting in front of the fan and said "this is the only good thing about today" and I said "I thought I was a good thing about today" and she said "you're a good thing about every day, but you're not as cold as this ceviche, and right now cold wins." Fair. Cold wins. I accept my ranking.

When the house is sixty-eight degrees because that’s what Jessica needs and the electric bill has stopped being something I think about, the last thing I want to do is turn on a burner and add any heat to the equation. Ceviche was the obvious answer — citrus does all the work, the shrimp never sees a flame, and it comes out of the fridge cold enough to actually matter in a Phoenix August. If Jessica said this was the only good thing about the day, I’ll take it. Here’s exactly how I made it.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 0 min (1 hr curing) | Total Time: 1 hr 20 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 lb raw medium shrimp, peeled, deveined, and chopped into 1/2-inch pieces
1/2 cup fresh lime juice (about 6 limes)
1/4 cup fresh orange juice (about 1 orange)
1 cup Roma tomatoes, seeded and finely diced (about 2 tomatoes)
1/2 cup red onion, finely diced
1/2 cup English cucumber, seeded and finely diced
1 jalapeño, seeded and minced (leave seeds in for more heat)
1/3 cup fresh cilantro, chopped
1 ripe avocado, diced
3/4 tsp kosher salt, plus more to taste
8 tostada shells (store-bought or baked corn tortillas)
Hot sauce, for serving
Lime wedges, for serving

Instructions

Cure the shrimp. Place the chopped raw shrimp in a non-reactive bowl (glass or ceramic). Pour the lime juice and orange juice over the shrimp — the shrimp should be fully submerged. Cover and refrigerate for 45 minutes to 1 hour, stirring once halfway through, until the shrimp is opaque and pink throughout. This is the “cooking” process; the citric acid denatures the proteins just as heat would.
Drain and season. Once the shrimp is cured, drain off most of the citrus liquid, leaving just a few tablespoons behind. Season with 3/4 tsp kosher salt and stir to combine.
Fold in the vegetables. Add the diced tomato, red onion, cucumber, jalapeño, and cilantro to the bowl. Toss gently to combine. Taste and adjust salt as needed. Return to the refrigerator for 10 minutes to let the flavors meld.
Add the avocado. Just before serving, gently fold in the diced avocado so it stays intact and doesn’t get mashed into the mix.
Assemble the tostadas. Lay out tostada shells on a serving platter. Spoon the ceviche generously over each shell. Finish with a drizzle of hot sauce and a squeeze of fresh lime juice. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Shrimp Ceviche Tostadas — Cold Wins, and So Does This August Recipe