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Sonora's manta ray and shrimp stew, with green olives, carrots, capers, and the wild chiltepin chile from the Sierra Madre Occidental. The pure broth, served first in a tin cup, is the bichi.
Caguamanta is Sonoran. Specifically of the Sea of Cortez coast, of Bahia de Kino, Guaymas, Empalme, and the fishing villages where the boats come in at dawn and the women on shore know how to turn what is landed into a stew that feeds a family for two days.
The name tells you the history. Caguama is sea turtle. Mantarraya is manta ray. The original dish was made with caguama, sea turtle, and when sea turtle was rightly banned in the 1990s the cooks of the coast did what cooks have always done: they kept the dish and changed the protein. The manta ray was already in the boats. The fishermen dried it on lines in the sun, and the dried fillet, salty and stiff and almost the color of paper, became the new caguamanta. The name stayed. The technique stayed. The soul of the dish stayed. That is how a cuisine survives.
This is a stew with a Mediterranean accent, and that is not a coincidence. Sonora was settled by Spanish and Sephardic merchants whose pantries left olive oil, green olives, and capers in the Sonoran kitchen. Combined with the wild chiltepin from the Sierra Madre Occidental and the dried shrimp powder of the coast, you get something that exists nowhere else. It is not Mediterranean and it is not generic Mexican. It is sonorense, and the people of the coast know it the moment they smell it.
There is a small ceremony to caguamanta that I want you to honor. Before the stew goes in the bowl, you ladle the pure broth into a small enameled tin cup. That cup is bichi. You drink it warm with a squeeze of lime and a few crushed chiltepines, and only after that comes the stew. My notebook from a trip to Guaymas in 2014 has a sketch of the cup that the senora at the marisqueria served me, with an arrow pointing at it and the word bichi underlined twice. She told me the broth tells you whether the stew will be any good. If the broth is right, the rest follows. Saber cocinar es saber vivir.
Caguamanta originated as caguama, a sea turtle stew that was a staple along Sonora's coast and among the Comcaac (Seri) people of the Sea of Cortez region for generations. Mexico banned the commercial harvest and consumption of sea turtle in 1990 to protect the critically endangered species, and Sonoran cooks transitioned to manta ray, which was already part of the local fishery and shared the dense, shreddable texture of the original ingredient. The dish's olive oil, green olives, and capers reflect the Mediterranean influence carried into northwestern Mexico through Spanish colonial trade routes and Sephardic merchant communities, while the chiltepin is the only chile native to what is now the United States and northern Mexico, gathered wild from the foothills of the Sierra Madre Occidental.
Quantity
2 pounds
soaked overnight in cold water and drained
Quantity
1 pound
peeled with shells reserved
Quantity
8 cups
Quantity
2 medium
one halved, one finely diced
Quantity
1
halved crosswise
Quantity
4
finely chopped
Quantity
2
Quantity
3 tablespoons
Quantity
2 large
peeled and diced small
Quantity
3
diced small
Quantity
1 large
diced small
Quantity
4
finely chopped
Quantity
1
stemmed, seeded, and diced
Quantity
1/2 cup
halved
Quantity
2 tablespoons
drained
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
10 to 15
lightly crushed
Quantity
2 medium
peeled and diced
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
from 2 limes
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
1/2 cup
Quantity
for serving
Quantity
for serving
Quantity
for serving
warmed
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| dried manta ray (mantarraya seca)soaked overnight in cold water and drained | 2 pounds |
| large raw shrimp, head-on if possiblepeeled with shells reserved | 1 pound |
| water | 8 cups |
| white onionsone halved, one finely diced | 2 medium |
| head of garlichalved crosswise | 1 |
| garlic clovesfinely chopped | 4 |
| bay leaves | 2 |
| olive oil | 3 tablespoons |
| carrotspeeled and diced small | 2 large |
| celery ribsdiced small | 3 |
| green bell pepperdiced small | 1 large |
| ripe roma tomatoesfinely chopped | 4 |
| chile Anaheimstemmed, seeded, and diced | 1 |
| pitted green olives, manzanilla stylehalved | 1/2 cup |
| capersdrained | 2 tablespoons |
| dried Mexican oregano, preferably oregano sonorense | 1 tablespoon |
| dried chiltepineslightly crushed | 10 to 15 |
| potatoespeeled and diced | 2 medium |
| dried shrimp powder (polvo de camaron seco) | 1 tablespoon |
| lime juice | from 2 limes |
| kosher salt | to taste |
| cracked black pepper | to taste |
| chopped cilantro | 1/2 cup |
| lime wedges (optional) | for serving |
| fresh chiltepines or chiltepin salsa (optional) | for serving |
| flour tortillas sobaqueras (optional)warmed | for serving |
The dried manta ray comes from the fishermen of Bahia de Kino and Guaymas salted and stiff. It needs at least eight hours in cold water, and overnight is better. Change the water two or three times. Taste the soaking water at the end. If it is still aggressively salty, give it another hour. The fish should be flexible and clean-smelling, never sharp.
Place the soaked and drained mantarraya in a heavy 8-quart pot. Cover with the eight cups of water. Add the halved onion, the halved head of garlic, and the bay leaves. Drop in the reserved shrimp shells and heads. Bring to a slow simmer over medium heat. Skim the foam that rises in the first ten minutes. Lower the heat and cook at a lazy simmer for 45 minutes. This is the base. The pure broth, ladled into a tin cup before any vegetables go in, is what Sonorenses call bichi. It is the soul of the dish.
Strain the broth through a fine-mesh sieve into a clean pot. Pull the manta ray out and let it cool enough to handle. Discard the spent onion, garlic, bay, and shrimp shells. Shred the manta ray with your fingers along the natural grain. It pulls into long ribbons, almost like crab. Set the broth and the shredded fish aside.
Heat the olive oil in the same heavy pot over medium heat. Add the diced onion, chopped garlic, carrots, celery, and bell pepper. Cook for about ten minutes, stirring, until the onion turns translucent and the carrots start to soften at the edges. The kitchen will smell like a Sonoran Sunday. The olive oil is not negotiable here. The Sephardic and Spanish trade left its mark on Sonoran seafood cooking and this dish carries that olive-and-caper signature.
Stir in the chopped tomatoes and the diced chile Anaheim. Cook for five more minutes, until the tomatoes break down and release their juice. Add the crushed chiltepines now. Chiltepin is a Sonoran chile, small and round, hotter than it looks, and the wild bushes that grow in the Sierra Madre Occidental produce the best ones. No me vengas con atajos. Do not substitute jalapeno or serrano. The flavor is wrong.
Pour the strained broth back into the vegetables. Add the diced potatoes, the shredded manta ray, the olives, the capers, the oregano, and the dried shrimp powder. The shrimp powder is what gives caguamanta its deep mariscos backbone. If you cannot find it ground, toast a handful of dried shrimp on a comal and pulverize it in a molcajete. Bring to a gentle simmer and cook for 20 minutes, until the potatoes are tender.
Add the peeled raw shrimp and cook for three to four more minutes, just until they turn opaque and curl. Do not overcook them. Stir in the lime juice, the cilantro, and a generous crack of black pepper. Taste for salt now. The mantarraya, the olives, the capers, and the shrimp powder all bring salt of their own, so you may need very little. Adjust and pull off the heat.
Ladle the reserved pure broth into small enameled tin cups. Pass them around with lime wedges and a jar of crushed chiltepines. That is the bichi course. Drink it warm before the stew arrives. Then serve the caguamanta in deep bowls with hot flour tortillas sobaqueras to tear and dip. Cada estado, su propia cocina. Asi se hace y punto.
1 serving (about 580g)
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