Years ago, I learned from the Pioneer Woman blog that pico de gallo is *equal parts* cilantro, tomato and onion, plus garlic, jalapeño, lime juice and seasonings (salt, pepper, and cumin if you're feeling zesty). I had been skimping on the onion, because I thought it was strong, and the cilantro because I like to throw rotting cilantro away a week after I buy it.
When you know better, you do better. Just use the whole container.
But even after I put this into practice, my pico de gallo tasted like mostly onions. I tried cutting the amount of onion, and I tried to make it more flavorful by adding more salt, but that just resulted in salty tomatoes and mushy pico de gallo.
Then I lived in South Texas for a year.
The pico de gallo that my friends brought to church potlucks was a burst of flavor in my mouth. I knew the citrus in the Rio Grande Valley was good, but I wasn’t sure a good lime really could make that much of a difference.
So I shared with my friend in my broken Spanish one day, “when I make pico de gallo, it’s just chopped tomatoes and onions, even though it has all the other ingredients too. What am I missing?”
Here’s what Ana told me: I must let the chopped onions soak in the lime juice and salt while I chop the rest of the ingredients. And try to make it hours ahead of time.
Soak the onions, I shouted to myself. So simple! So scientific! I took that advice and made the best pico de gallo I’ve ever made the next day. I was careful to chop the onions uniformly and to squeeze every drop of lime juice into the bowl. I salted the onions, gave it a stir, and began to prepare the tomatoes, cilantro, jalapeño and garlic. I was careful to remove the woody cilantro stems. I truly wanted this to be the perfect pico.
If I’m honest, it wasn’t as good as Ana’s pico de gallo, or the salsas made by any of the abuelas in my Spanish-Speaking church on the Mexico border. But it was bursting with flavor and I felt so proud that her advice helped.
Years later, in Spain, I received Samin Nosrat’s book, Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat for Christmas. There is a whole chapter about the importance of macerating onions, which I realized is what Ana taught me to do. The process of maceration draws the liquid out of the product in order to soften it (and its sharpness), while lifting its essence. Or, as Samin says, “soaking the onions in acid takes the fire out of them without diminishing the brightness they add to a dish.” Chef’s kiss! With the onions for pico de gallo, the lime juice mingles with the onion juice and salt, creating a citrusy, acidic dressing that coats the tomatoes. And the tomatoes then macerate more, which is why you should make your pico de gallo ahead of time.
I now apply this trick to every salsa and salad I make. For pico de gallo or Mexican coleslaw, I macerate the onion in lime juice. For any kind of tabbouleh1 or Mediterranean bean salad, I soak in a mix of lemon juice and red wine vinegar and use the liquid for the dressing. For pho or banh mi toppings, I macerate onions and carrots in rice vinegar. If I’m just topping a green salad with a few onion slivers, I’ll use an apple cider vinegar. In fact, I usually have this already in the fridge.
I didn’t like raw onions as a child, but I know I ate a lot of cooked onions because they are an inexpensive, universal produce that can bulk up any meal.
Have you learned to prepare a food in a way that changed your preference for it?
Hot tip for your tabbouleh: *equal parts* onion, parsley and couscous.