Older Bolder Life

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the Older Bolder Life Friday Feast: Pickled Shrimp Ceviche

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Back a few years ago I shared that I worked for a time helping to open a Cajun restaurant nearby in the far reaches of the DFW metroplex; I’d always wanted to peek behind the curtain of the restaurant industry and I was intrigued by the skills and gentle manner of the authentic Cajun chef running the place.

He was raised outside of New Orleans, came from a very colorful background personally, was immensely talented in the kitchen, and (like myself) profoundly influenced in terms of food by a beloved grandmother and other extended family back home in Louisiana.

Chef M had a killer pickled shrimp recipe (that we made in 5 gallon batches) and worked hard to reproduce what he insisted was a Louisiana Gulf Coast favorite in this Pickled Shrimp Ceviche.

Chef M and we kitchen minions had a lengthy discussion one morning about use of the term “ceviche” for this recipe; some of us pushed the point that ceviche (or cebiche) was historically Peruvian and classically prepared by marinating raw fish or seafood in a tangy, spiced citrus bath (in the Peruvian model that meant limes or what were/are actually less astringent green lemons). The citrus juices not only impart wondrous flavor but denature the proteins in the fish, causing it to appear “cooked” even though by the most strict food chemistry perspective it’s not.

Chef M countered that particularly in the states and Australia the term ceviche has evolved to encompass use of some gently cooked proteins as well as raw seafood, as in the pickled shrimp that we’re using here, and apparently as used for decades by his grandmother back home. It’s ironic how so often our taste buds “run home to mama” in terms of tastes and textures that we enjoyed during our childhoods…

I even double checked the concept with Chef Libby in Austin, and she concurred this recipe unquestionably deserves the ceviche label, and she’s even added a modified version to her catering menu.

He also noted (quite wisely I might add) that citrus-cured raw shrimp has a texture that many find off-putting (I sure as hell do), and that many of the shrimp preparations he grew up with back home involved a lightly cooked (you might even say par-boiled) shrimp.

Bottom line – argue whether it’s ceviche or not as you wish, but unless you’re a formally trained chef from Louisiana, raised cooking Cajun specialties from childhood, I’ll take Chef M’s word over whatever your opinion might be…

Chef M challenged us to give this recipe a chance, and while I’ve modified it a bit in terms of what you see here, this is largely the recipe that Chef M brought to the DFW area from home, and will be a perfect addition to your summer rotation. It’s one of those texture and flavor combinations that’s simply a divine pleasure to eat.

Try it once as written, and then riff on your own version to suit your tastes – I usually throw in a bit more avocado, cucumber, jalapeño, and cilantro when making a batch for us…

3-4 avocados, 1/4-inch dice

1 pound pickled shrimp, 1/2-inch pieces

3/4 cup red onion, chopped medium
1/2 cup cucumber, chopped medium
1/4 cup fresh jalapeño, chopped medium
2 tbsp fresh garlic, minced

1/2 cup cilantro, rough chop (or more)
Juice and zest of one lime
1 and 1/2 tbsp pickling liquid
1 tbsp fresh lemon juice

Cut the shrimp to size and place in a medium bowl.

Into your trusty food processor go the chopped red onion, cucumber, jalapeño, and garlic; pulse to a fine chop/mince (do NOT puree). Add the mixture to the shrimp in the bowl.

Stir in the chopped cilantro, lime juice, lime zest, pickling liquid, and lemon juice.

If serving in the next 30-40 minutes, add the diced avocados and stir to mix well, making sure all the avocado pieces are coated with the mixture in the bowl. If not serving in the next 30 minutes, cover and throw in the fridge, adding the avocado 15-20 minutes before service.

Enjoy.

the Older Bolder Life Friday Feast: Gulf Coast Pickled Shrimp

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I’ve shared before about my love of Gulf Coast seafood before, here’s a snippet from a post about Texas Shrimp Boils –

My parents both grew up along the Gulf Coast of Texas, in or near a little community by the name of Bay City. My maternal grandfather had a beach house very close to the mouth of the Colorado River where it empties into the Gulf, a rustic wood-framed cabin on the tiny spit of land there between East and West Matagorda Bays.

The Camp as it was called by everyone in the family save for my grandfather, who had christened it the Mason Rouge (it was painted a nifty barn red), was a key focal point for summers of my youth as we travelled down to fish, crab, laze in the blistering coastal Texas summer heat, comb the beaches, and just generally live the life of a miniature pirate back in the 60s.

The camp was wiped out time and time again by a number of hurricanes, most notably by Carla, and each time Pa-Pa (paw paw) would rebuild it a little bit bigger.

Fresh seafood was the order of the day; we pulled crabs from the crab trap every few days, caught fish morning, afternoon, and night, and bought “table” shrimp from the little bay shrimper (his boat was Little Bob) whose ramshackle operation sprawled on the riverbank about half a city block away. We probably had to drive the furthest – about 10 minutes – to pick up a bushel of oysters dredged that morning when the oyster mood struck.

Some of my earliest memories of wanting to learn about the art and mystery of cooking came from standing at my grandmother Ma-Ma’s (maw maw) elbow as she created another masterpiece on the ancient (and dammit, I mean ancient) gas stove in the corner of the first floor “kitchen” at the Camp.

She was a masterful Southern cook, using something akin to alchemy to transform uber-fresh, simple ingredients into some of the best food I’ve ever tasted. Of course, those memories are buffered by time and the myopic, simplistic perspective of youth, but damn, her fish cakes, gumbo, fish, and shrimp were stunningly good.

Though I didn’t appreciate as I should back then, it was she who taught me to relish the tasty simplicity of a perfectly boiled shrimp, most often back in the day pulled from the pot, iced down to cool quickly, and eaten in a simple shrimp salad or dipped into just-crafted cocktail sauce bursting with nasal-clearing horseradish and savory Worcestershire (the Cajun influence in that part of coastal Texas was welcome!)…

I don’t recall Ma-Ma stirring up pickled shrimp, but they were on the menu of several of the hole in the wall seafood restaurants in Matagorda back in the day, typically as an escabeche-influenced appetizer, and I remember the mouth puckering acidity of the shrimp and bursts of spice from the onions and peppers after stealing a bit from the communal plate.

We hadn’t pickled shrimp in years around our camp until a few months ago when I stirred up a batch for next week’s Pickled Shrimp Ceviche (holy cow is that a great recipe); we feel like we’ve stumbled across an old friend in this recipe, and it’s found a spot in the summer rotation already.

Two key points for this recipe: One, There are dozens of ways to season boiled shrimp in the pot; here’s our routine, but feel free to use whatever recipe your Ma-Ma (or whoever else) taught you. And two, as you research various pickled shrimp recipes available today, you’ll see that folks use a host of various vinegars and citrus to pickle the shrimp. By all means experiment on your own to see what you like the best – we like this combination for its burst of acidity and the pineapple adds a subtle, interesting twist.

1 and 1/2 pounds raw medium shrimp, shelled, deveined
Your favorite shrimp boil spices

1/2 cup brown rice vinegar or apple cider vinegar
1/2 cup fresh lime juice
1/2 cup pineapple juice
1/2 medium red onion, cut into thin slices
1/3 cup chopped cilantro
1-2 jalapeño or serrano chiles, stemmed, seeded, cut in thin slices
1-2 cloves garlic, crushed
3/4 tsp cumin seeds
1/2 tsp or more good salt

Rinse the shrimp, and bring a large pot of water to a boil (2 quarts should be fine for this amount of shrimp); season as per your routine (see note above). We follow the routine detailed here for our shrimp boils.

Now add the shrimp and the remainder of ingredients to a large jar or BPA-free food storage bag, shaking or turning to evenly distribute all the goodies. The shrimp must be covered by the liquid in the jar; if not, add a bit of water or more vinegar to cover.

Into the fridge it goes for at least 24 hours to soak up all those great flavors; give it a shake or stir occasionally as well.

Enjoy, and these shrimp are amazing in the pickled shrimp ceviche (next image below) coming next week.

the Older Bolder Life Friday Feast: Quick Kung Pao Shrimp

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For the past several weeks we’ve been on somewhat of a stir fry kick; like many of you now and again we get stuck on a particular cuisine or preparation method and ride that horse for a few weeks just to change up the routine and menu.

My wife in particular has been craving some of the traditional Americanized Chinese food that we’ve eaten over the years; recently she’s been pestering me to craft a dish akin to a wonderful Kung Pao Shrimp we used to eat at a now defunct eatery in Salt Lake City back in the day.

It was spicy but not too hot, incredibly well balanced with the classic Chinkiang vinegar flavor followed by a just a hint of sweetness, and packed with tasty cashews and tender shrimp.

After a bit of trial and error, and digging around a bit, we’ve settled on this recipe using an incredibly easy homemade Kung Pao sauce (you can as always control the quality of your ingredients and cut back on the typical sugar/sweetener load), though a commercially prepared sauce could work in a pinch (read those ingredients!). By the way, I’ll post the recipe for the Kung Pao sauce down the road a few weeks from now…

With a minimum of prep, you can have this dish ready for the table in about twenty minutes, along with a big pile of steamed broccoli florets just like you’d receive in a classic restaurant setting.

As tempting as it is to throw in several handfuls of other vegetables, every time I’ve done that we (my wife especially) feel that the overall flavor impact of the dish is diminished by too many competing flavors. And it’s great over a spoonful of garlic cauliflower rice….

1 pound shrimp, prepped (peeled and deveined)
1 T Shaoxing wine
1 T cornstarch
1 tsp avocado oil
¼ t good salt

1 T avocado oil
6 green onions, white and green parts, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 bell pepper, ¾-inch dice
1/3 cup (perhaps a T or two more) homemade Kung Pao sauce
1/3 cup roasted cashews or peanuts

Combine the prepped shrimp, Shaoxing wine, cornstarch, and the salt; set aside for 10 minutes. Prep the vegetables and set aside.

Heat the oil in a large flat skillet until just smoking; add the shrimp in a single layer and cook for thirty seconds undisturbed, then stir occasionally for the next three minutes or so until the shrimp are just opaque.

Add the green onions and bell pepper, stirring to combine and heat the vegetables thoroughly. Now add the Kung Pao sauce, stirring to coat everything in the pan evenly.

Add the cashews (or peanuts), stir to distribute evenly, the remove from the heat and serve immediately.

Enjoy.

the Older Bolder Life Friday Feast: OB NOLA BBQ Shrimp

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Strolling by the seafood counter in my favorite grocery last week I spied a beautiful bin of wild caught Gulf brown shrimp on sale; after confirming they were plump and fresh I grabbed a pound and a half to cook through the last trial of this NOLA BBQ shrimp recipe we’ve been adapting (and spicing up) from Emerill’s version.

Barbecue shrimp done “New Orleans” style implies not shrimp done on the barbie, but shrimp pan sautéed, dripping with a garlic and Worcestershire spiked butter sauce, though there are probably literally dozens of variations floating around out there.

There are two things about Emerill’s classic recipe that my family has really enjoyed over the years – one is the deep, rich flavors that build using his technique to craft a shrimp stock using the shells. I’ve found that for the occasion when you buy a load of shrimp that have been shelled, you can sub in a prepared seafood stock for the water with great results too. Simmering the stock with a handful of various spices and lemons, then reducing it down significantly, yields flavors you’d never guess you could craft in your home kitchen.

The second thing we really like about this recipe is the fact that the cream based sauce has a bit more body, especially when mounted at the end with some nifty grass-fed butter.

This looks much more complicated than it is and comes together very quickly for the final cook. Just plan a bit of time to give the sauce simmer and reduction time to yield their magic.

And if you’re incorporating a carb refeed day into your routine, this is an absolute delight over a scoop of rice. Hot damn.

3 lb shell on or 1.5 lb shelled shrimp
1 tbsp creole/cajun seasoning
1 tsp Old Bay seasoning
Fresh ground black pepper

2 tbsp avocado oil, divided
1/3 cup chopped onion
2 tbsp fresh minced garlic
Reserved shrimp shells if using
3 bay leaves
2 tsp creole/cajun seasoning
1 tsp Old Bay seasoning
2 lemons, peeled and sectioned
2 cups water (or seafood stock if not using shrimp shells)
1/2 cup Worcestershire sauce
Optional: 1/4 dry white wine or sherry
1/4 tsp good salt

2 cups heavy cream
3 tbsp grass fed butter
1 tbsp chives or small green onions, chopped fine

Wash and peel the shrimp if using shelled, reserving shells. Rub with 1 tbsp of your favorite creole seasoning and 1 tsp Old Bay, dust with black pepper, then throw in the fridge.

In a medium saucepan sauté the onion and garlic in 1 tbsp oil until just soft, then add the shrimp shells, bay leaves, creole and Old Bay seasonings, the prepped lemons, Worcestershire sauce, wine or sherry, salt, and 2 cups water (seafood stock if not using shells). Simmer for 30 minutes, cool and rest for 15 minutes or so, then strain into a small saucepan (should have about 1.5 cups).

Now reduce the flavored stock over medium-high heat until roughly 1/3 cup remains, set aside.

Finally, in a medium skillet heat the remaining oil over medium-high heat and sauté the spiced shrimp for 2 minutes or so until just opaque; add the cream and the reduced flavored stock, stirring to mix well.

Simmer for 3-4 minutes, then quickly remove the shrimp to a heated platter. Now whisk in the butter (cut into small pieces) and remove from heat. Spoon the thickened sauce over the shrimp, garnish, and go to it.

Hot damn, and enjoy.

the Older Bolder Life Friday Feast: Salt Roasted Spicy Shrimp

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Back a few years ago my lovely wife and I spent an interesting year and a half in Alabama (it’s a long story, for another time). We love much of the culture and food of the Deep South, though for reasons that aren’t really important here we weren’t necessarily in love with our city of residence at the time.

One of the saving graces of our time there, at least from the perspective now several years past, was our proximity to the Gulf of Mexico and it’s bounty of fresh seafood. We eventually found a little market in our community that drove fresh seafood up every night to sell the next morning, and we became regulars, elbowing through the crowds to get the best Royal Red shrimp before they quickly sold out.

While we love shrimp grilled over a wood fire, and boiled shrimp Gulf Coast style, we also grew to savor this Salt Roasted Spicy Shrimp recipe that I tweaked from one posted in Garden and Gun back in late 2014 or early 2015.

The shell-on shrimp (the recipe calls for head-on as well – your and my grandmothers were right in saying cooking the whole shrimp does add flavor) don’t get too salty despite being cooked in a bed of blisteringly hot, and well seasoned, rock salt. (Please note – we have seen a failure when a relative tried to cook shrimp using this recipe in kosher salt – this only works with genuine rock salt.) Can’t find head-on, shell-on shrimp in your market? No problem, I couldn’t when preparing this batch imaged here – they’ll still taste great.

The somewhat unusual array of spices spices add a wonderful yet subtle melody of flavors and the shrimp come out plump, firm, surprisingly moist, and peel easily.

2 pounds 20-25 head-on shrimp (in the shell)

3 pounds Rock salt
3 tbsp black peppercorns
2 tbsp whole coriander
5 bay leaves (make sure they’re fresh)
4-5 star anise
12-14 sprigs of fresh thyme
3 jalapeno peppers, stemmed and sliced
1 head garlic, smashed, loose skin removed
2 lemons, quartered, divided

Preheat your trusty oven to 475.

Build your seasoned salt by combing the rock salt, coriander, peppercorns, bay leaves, star anise, thyme, garlic, the sliced jalapeños, and four lemon quarters in a large bowl; mix well.

Pour or spoon roughly half the salt mixture into a large oven-safe dish; slide into the oven for 15 minutes to get good and hot.

Pull the hot dish (carefully!), add the shrimp evenly dispersed in a single layer and cover evenly with the remaining salt.

Now back into the oven for 8-10 minutes; pull it when they’re just cooked through (sometimes as early as 7 minutes if the shrimp are on the small side).

Carefully remove the shrimp from the salt (tongs in my kitchen) and serve immediately with the remaining lemon quarters and perhaps a cocktail sauce built upon a primal/paleo ketchup. Hot damn.

Enjoy.

the Older Bolder Life Friday Feast: Texas Coast Boiled Shrimp

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My parents both grew up along the Gulf Coast of Texas, in or near a little community by the name of Bay City. My maternal grandfather had a beach house very close to the mouth of the Colorado River where it empties into the Gulf, a rustic wood-framed cabin on the tiny spit of land there between East and West Matagorda Bays.

The Camp as it was called by everyone in the family save for my grandfather, who had christened it the Mason Rouge (it was painted a nifty barn red), was a key focal point for summers of my youth as we travelled down to fish, crab, laze in the blistering coastal Texas summer heat, comb the beaches, and just generally live the life of a miniature pirate back in the 60s.

The Camp was wiped out time and time again by a number of hurricanes, most notably by Carla, and each time Pa-Pa (paw paw) would rebuild it a little bit bigger.

Fresh seafood was the order of the day; we pulled crabs from the crab trap every few days, caught fish morning, afternoon, and night, and bought “table” shrimp from the little bay shrimper (his boat was Little Bob) whose ramshackle operation sprawled on the riverbank about half a city block away. We probably had to drive the furthest – about 10 minutes – to pick up a bushel of oysters dredged that morning when the oyster mood struck.

Some of my earliest memories of wanting to learn about the art and mystery of cooking came from standing at my grandmother Ma-Ma’s (maw maw) elbow as she created another masterpiece on the ancient (and dammit, I mean ancient) gas stove in the corner of the first floor “kitchen” at the Camp.

She was a masterful Southern cook, using something akin to alchemy to transform uber-fresh, simple ingredients into some of the best food I’ve ever tasted. Of course, those memories are buffered by time and the myopic, simplistic perspective of youth, but damn, her fish cakes, gumbo, fish, and shrimp were stunningly good.

Though I didn’t appreciate it as I should back then, it was she who taught me to relish the tasty simplicity of a perfectly boiled shrimp, most often back in the day pulled from the pot, iced down to cool quickly, and eaten in a simple shrimp salad or dipped into just-crafted cocktail sauce bursting with nasal-clearing horseradish and savory Worcestershire (the Cajun influence in that part of coastal Texas was welcome!).

Wild shrimp are one of nature’s most perfect nuggets of high-quality protein, essentially free of encumbering carbohydrates, and with very little fat baggage as well. Fresh shrimp might not readily accessible year-round for many of us, but high-quality frozen shrimp are (if you’ll do a bit of digging). (And while not the focus of this post today, here’s a few quick thoughts on sourcing quality seafood.)

As many of you have, we’ve played with various approaches to attaining the best home-boiled shrimp we can over the years.

Our routine these days is simple and easy to reproduce tie and time again for consistent and tasty results. Note that we lean to the Texas Coast style for our shrimp boil – which means the inclusion of some form of Cajun spice into the pot. And next time you’re planning a shrimp meal, consider boiling up 2 or 3 pounds at a time – shrimp hold well for several days in the fridge, and make a great second meal a day or two down the road, a wonderful lunch, or tasty shrimp salad too.

Here’s how we get a shrimp boil done at home, as noted typically 2-3 pounds at a time for my wife and I. Ma-Ma would heartily approve by the way.

Into your shrimp pot goes water to cover the shrimp by at least 3 inches, along with half a (scrubbed) lemon and either a packet of Zatarains’s Shrimp and Crab boil or several teaspoons of their liquid boil mix, though the bagged spices produce a better result with a deeper, more interesting flavor.

Bring the water to a rolling boil, add the shrimp, and maintain high heat until the pot just beings to boil again. Cover, remove from the heat, and let steep for at least 5 minutes.

There’s a school of thought that argues you should let boiled shrimp steep for as long as 20-30 minutes, though my most talented shrimp mentor argues that you should add some ice to the pot if you’re steeping more than 5 minutes to cool the water so as not to overcook the shrimp.

I typically don’t steep for more than 6 or 7 minutes, then drain the shrimp, ice them down for at least several minutes, and either serve warm right then, or chill them down for several hours in the fridge. We like to peel them right at service (read as we eat them).

This routine is really child’s play in the kitchen, simple enough that anyone can do it with ease, and yielding perfect results every time.

See you at the shrimp counter this weekend.

Enjoy.

the Older Bolder Life Friday Feast: Spicy Thai-Inspired Shrimp Stir-fry

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Growing up years ago, both my wife and I had grandparents who lived, at least part of the time, a stone’s throw from the Texas Gulf coast. We have common memories of beach-combing, big bonfires, hot and steamy summer days, and eating lots of stunningly fresh seafood.

Later living in the northern Rockies (small town Montana) for years made accessing fresh seafood (from anywhere) a surmountable but expensive challenge, though being back down in Texas for a spell has made the seafood game much easier, something we’ve thoroughly enjoyed given the amazing benefits – flavor and health – that seafood brings to the table.

My wife loves good shrimp, and while it’s hard to turn down a big platter of iced and spiced boiled shrimp, I personally probably lean to cold-water fish as being my absolute favorite seafood.

That said, this Spicy Thai-Inspired Shrimp Stir-Fry recipe, recently shared by our friend Chef Libby in Austin, and I believe originally sourced from one similar published in the past several years in Bon Appetit, might just have rolled to the very top of our seafood favorites list.

It’s packed with great flavors, including the herbal heat from the jalapeños (or Fresnos), a hefty handful of garlic, and with lemongrass and fish sauce thrown in to ensure you’ve hit all the taste senses and flavor notes. The wilted basil takes this one over the top, and don’t forget the spritz of lime at the end.

Of note, there’s a little bit of sugar in the marinade to aid in caramelization, leave it out if you wish, but as you’re not cooking the marinade in the final dish, you’ll have minuscule amounts of actual sugar clinging to the shrimp as they’re cooked.

4 red jalapeños (or Fresnos in a pinch), stemmed, seeded, chopped
7-8 garlic cloves, smashed
3 and 1/2 tbsp avocado oil or EVOO
2 tbsp good fish sauce
1 tbsp minced lemongrass or lemongrass puree
1 and 1/2 tsp good salt
1-2 tbsp sugar (see note above, optional)

1 and 1/2 pounds large shrimp, peeled, deveined
1-2 tbsp avocado oil or EVOO
2-3 cups fresh basil leaves
1 or 2 limes, quartered

Prep the shrimp and set aside.

Into your trusty blender go the peppers, garlic cloves, 3.5 tbsp of your oil of choice, fish sauce, lemongrass, salt, and sugar if using. Blend until smooth, then pour over the shrimp, mixing well (use your hands) to ensure the shrimp are well coated.

Marinate for a minimum of 20 minutes; can cover and throw in the fridge for up to an hour if desired.

When ready to cook, heat a tbsp of oil in a fairly large non-stick skillet over medium-high heat, then add 1/3 to 1/2 of the shrimp (use a slotted spoon to leave the marinade behind) to the skillet in a single layer. Cook undisturbed for a couple of minutes, checking one or two make sure they’re developing some color or char around the edges; then turn and cook for another minute or so.

Remove the first batch to a plate, then repeat with the remaining shrimp. When the second batch is done, remove the pan from the heat, dump the first batch of shrimp back into the pan along with the basil, and stir/toss until the basil begins to wilt.

Plate and serve with lime wedges; if you have a crowd, this is a very attractive dish presented on a large platter.

Enjoy.

The Older Bolder Life Friday Feast: Turmeric Mojo Grilled Shrimp

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For a variety of reasons this summer, not the least of which is they just taste great, we’ve pledged to enjoy more fresh Gulf shrimp here at home.

It helps that I’ve stumbled across a vendor who flies fresh shrimp to the DFW metro several days a week from the Texas coast where the shrimp have been caught early that morning, packed, and loaded on the plane before noon. I’m sure this recipe would work with quality frozen shrimp as well, though I haven’t tested that in my kitchen yet…

That said, for years we’ve been big fans of the tropical flavors that a good mojo can bring to the table (figuratively and literally), though you do need to remember that the acids in the fresh juices and vinegar can chemically “cook” seafood fairly quickly. You don’t want to leave your shrimp in the mojo for longer than it takes to get your grill fired (wood or gas), and don’t forget to save half the mojo for dipping or drizzling over the shrimp at service.

And by the way, two quick thoughts on the mojo. While lemongrass isn’t a typical mojo ingredient, it plays very well here with the shrimp (and probably would with any seafood) here. And don’t be intimidated by the habanero peppers; yes, they’re hot (mind your fingers – no eye rubbing after prepping these peppers!), but they bring a fruity, floral heat that can’t be duplicated. (We actually make this with anywhere from 5-7 peppers, though are long time chile-heads.)

We most recently devoured this with a Chile Peanut Cauliflower Rice recipe we’re working on, and hot damn, it was amazing.

3 habanero chiles, stemmed, seeded, chopped
8 medium garlic cloves, crushed
3.5” piece fresh ginger, peeled, sliced
⅓ cup + 1 tbsp fresh orange juice
⅓ cup + 1 tbsp fresh lime juice
1 tbsp unseasoned rice vinegar
1 tsp lemongrass puree
½-1 tsp. ground turmeric
⅓ cup + 1 tbsp avocado or olive oil, plus more for grill
Good salt
1.5 lb. large shrimp, peeled and deveined

Optional
1 tbsp sugar or sweetener of choice

Prep your shrimp and fresh ingredients.

Combine the chiles, garlic, ginger, both juices, the rice vinegar, lemongrass puree, and turmeric in a blender or food processor and pulse to combine. With the device running, drizzle in the oil of choice until well emulsified.

Immediately divide the mojo, placing half in the fridge (add salt to taste) and pouring half over the shrimp, stirring to make sure all your shrimp are coated.

Immediately fire the grill, and when ready, grill the shrimp until well marked with a bit of char and pink through, 1-2 minutes per side.

Serve as desired (I served over a Chile Peanut Cauliflower Rice we’re refining) with the reserved sauce on the side or drizzled over.

Enjoy.