The New Acid Revolution

Nine-year-old Trinity O’Neill of Monrovia grabs the little blue cellophane bag with the mushroom cloud on the label.

She opens it, braces herself on the living room sofa and pops a Mega Warhead into her mouth. Her eyes bug out in stunned surprise, then snap shut. Her lips pull into an extreme pucker and she bounces up and down, slapping both hands on top of her head.

In a half-minute, she sags in relief as the intense blast of sour taste gives way to a pleasant glow of sugary blueberry sweetness.

“It felt like my mouth was going to explode and my head was kind of tight,” she says, regaining her composure and reaching for another. “It’s got a really sour covering, but sweet inside. . . . It’s like, too much!”

The Warhead, as any with-it pre-adolescent will tell you, is the ultimate sour candy--the last word in recreational astringency. Adults who contentedly sucked barrels of lemon drops as kids have no idea what children are doing with their taste buds these days. But as with any trend, the fondness kids have for their shocking snacks is but an over-the-top reflection of our own changing tastes. And what we are looking for is food that is bright, clean, alive and exciting.

“You don’t want to go to a restaurant to sleep; you can sleep at home,” says Robert Danhi, 26-year-old executive chef and instructor at the Southern California Academy of Culinary Arts in South Pasadena. “You eat and enjoy and you get alive with it.”

Danhi, a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America, credits his Malaysia-born wife, Ester, with introducing him to the fresh ingredients of Pan-Pacific cuisine--the lemon grass and mangoes and lime leaves--as well as to the sensibilities of the Pan-Pacific palate.

“She really opened up my eyes,” Danhi says. “As far as looking at breakfast, it’s not eggs and toast, it’s, ‘Let’s have fried rice or curry or a bowl of noodles.’ That’s how most countries eat except the States. Here it’s eggs--it’s boring.”

When Danhi traveled to Malaysia with his wife to see her family, he visited all her aunts and cooked with them. “I cooked as much as I physically could,” he says.

The experience of cooking with mango relishes and applying marinades with brushes fashioned from lemongrass changed Danhi’s entire approach.

“When people ask me, ‘What kind of foods do you like?’ one of the main things [I say] is that I am an acidic freak. . . . Almost everything has got to have some element of acidity in it.”

“What is important,” he cautions, “is balance. The other day, we were making a black peppercorn sauce with quail. It had a slightly bitter, strong edge to it, so we put a little bit of lemon to lighten it up and a little pinch of sugar, just to balance.”

That the experience of sour-tasting food seems quite appealing to ‘90s Americans is not hard to understand. “Zesty” and “tangy” describe the spirit of popular culture as well as food.

Sour was long believed to be one of only four basic elements of the human taste sensation--along with sweet, salty and bitter. The flavor, it was always said, was supplied in large part by our noses, which pick up the specific aroma of whatever is in our mouths.

There is some disagreement about that today, but, as A.W. Loegee writes in “The Psychology of Eating and Drinking,” there is no dispute that we’re sensitive to sour and bitter tastes because of a primal self-protective instinct; spoiled food tastes acidic and natural poisons taste bitter. That’s why the powerful sensation of Mega Warheads seems to shoot right into our brain, stunning us for several moments.

“When I first tried one, I spat it out after only a few seconds,” admits Frann Wolfe, vice president of marketing at San Diego-based Sweet Factory Inc., which operates a chain of 200 candy-by-the-pound stores in malls and airports. The rush of malic acid--found in sour apples and tart wines--provides the allure of Mega Warheads, which Wolfe counts as among the top sellers in the chain that last year dispensed more than 653 tons of all kinds of sour candies.

The lozenge-sized treat named for the business end of a nuclear missile is imported from Taiwan by Foreign Candy Co. of Hull, Iowa, where marketing director Harlin Vermeer reports that it has built a steady clientele in the nearly five years it has been on the market, even drawing a steady stream of fan mail. So when Trinity and her friends want to try something sweet and sour and new, they reach for a Warhead.

And when the 9-year-old in all of us wants something sweet and sour and new and exciting, what do we do? We go to Tommy Tang.

The Bangkok-born chef, who has created a lovably daffy character on his television show “Modern Thai Cuisine,” sees the human taste buds somewhat differently. Tang contends there are four dominant sensations: salty, hot, sweet and sour. One of them alone is like hitting just one key on a piano. But add them all in proper proportion and, like a piano joined by a cello and brass and woodwinds and percussion, it all grows to a wondrous symphony for the palate--but only when you have a pleasing balance.

When you crave something sweet, Tang offers a demonstration of the Thai sensibility: “Here, try this,” he says, handing over a teaspoon of lime juice. “See how the juice opens your taste buds, your nose, all over your mouth.” Indeed, the pure lime in its tangy isolation spreads a pleasing, vaporous glow wafting from the tongue into the nasal cavities. Then he serves a wedge of guava, which allows the taster to experience the tartness and subtle characteristics of the pulpy fruit. First turn on the senses, then please them.

“In Thailand, our dessert is mostly fresh fruit,” he says. “And do you know why you put a squeeze of lime juice on a piece of sweet papaya? Because when you want the papaya sweeter, you put something sour on there to make it more sweet.”

Among all the fresh Thai desserts, there is nothing that alone combines the balance of sweet and sour more eloquently than the mango.

“We have a hundred varieties of mango in Thailand,” he says, waxing eloquent about the fruit as he takes a bite of mango.

“When you eat the mango in Thailand, you will never eat the mango anywhere else in the world. . . . It’s almost worth it to go to Thailand just for the mangoes.”

And halfway across the Pacific in Maui, the arrival of fresh mangoes is a source of joy for George Gomes Jr., executive chef at Jean Marie Josselin’s A Pacific Cafe.

“The farmers will bring a bag of green mangoes to the back door--that’s when we’ll do something with them,” he says. “You start out with a bag of mangoes and you say, ‘Let’s create a fresh mango slaw,’ so you toss that with fresh cilantro, maybe some cucumber and julienne of tomato and serve it with a grilled Hawaiian fish and coconut curry vinaigrette.”

A Pacific Cafe presents an interesting blend of European and regional cooking, with fresh ingredients of the Pacific.

“If you have a vinaigrette or a sauce without acid, then you are tasting a soup,” says the 36-year-old Gomes, who was born and raised in Hawaii.

“For instance, we do a good kabocha pumpkin jus for a chicken dish. We reduce a lot of duck stock to get it concentrated. And we take fresh kabocha pumpkin and steam that off and blend it up for a rich-tasting jus. We add a little fresh herb, fresh sage and, at the end, a squeeze of some local tangerine juice or lime juice or orange juice to give it a little acid to complement the flavor of the fish.

“Otherwise, it’s just a soup,” he says. “Everything needs a balance.”

One flavor expert believes that the American palate has long been out of balance.

“America has a sweet tooth--way more than Europe,” says Michael O’Mahony, a British-born professor of food science at UC Davis. “The sugar you put in a cake over here is way more than what we put in in England. Sometimes I’ll go get a cake in a shop and I can’t eat it. The great sweetness in America is a cultural thing.”

Of course, it should be mentioned that the English are notorious candy eaters and many of the desserts of India, loved in Britain, are sweeter than the average American cake. The United States is hardly alone in its love for sweet flavors.

What’s more, the American palate has changed over the past 30 years. The trend in upscale restaurants is away from super-sweet desserts. There’s less tolerance for sugar-amped fast food and a growing acceptance for sour flavors untempered by sweet ingredients.

“Some people like sourness because they like new sensations. And the kids will say, ‘Hey! This is fun.’ It’s a new sensation. And kids like new things.”

It is an occasional yearning for the stuff of childhood that pulls Daniel Oen to his local Asian market in Arcadia, where he took us recently to prowl the aisles for the sour treats that carry him back to his boyhood days in Jakarta. He paused among the preserved plums--with their intense balance of sour and salty tastes that is undeniably foreign to the American senses--and he eagerly snatched up bags of preserved mangoes, which turned out to be exquisitely flavorful, superbly blending sweet and sour even in their mass-production packaging.

Then he spotted bags of super-sour lemon candies that look a lot like Mega Warheads--and, as Trinity later confirmed for us, carry a similar jolt. “A lot of kids like these now,” Oen says. “I guess tastes are changing.”

Danhi, for one, admits he’s a bit of a fan of super-sour candy. “I kind of like it. I’m sure in some way it cleanses your body. It wakes you up, keeps you alive.”

SCALLOPS WITH MANGO SALSA

This dish from Tommy Tang is so light and refreshing you’ll feel thinner even before you start to eat. It’s simple to prepare, so don’t give up if you can’t find the mango. Try replacing it with sour green apple. You can also eat the salsa plain as a side dish or scoop it onto lettuce or cabbage leaves for a salad or appetizer. Tang, of course, uses his own Tommy Tang brand of Thai seasoning for the scallops; if you can’t find his, try a mixture of chili powder (Tang uses Thai and Santa Fe chiles), black and white pepper and garlic.

MANGO SALSA

2 tablespoons sugar cane juice or 1 1/2 tablespoons honey or palm sugar

1/4 cup Thai fish sauce

1/4 cup lime juice

1/2 teaspoon roasted chile paste

1 1/2 cups peeled, seeded and diced green mango

1/3 cup diced, seeded tomato

3 tablespoons diced green onions

1 tablespoon thinly sliced shallot

2 tablespoons finely chopped cilantro plus extra sprigs for garnish

2 tablespoons thinly sliced fresh lemon grass

1 teaspoon finely chopped garlic

1 teaspoon finely chopped serrano chile

SCALLOPS

1/4 cup olive oil

1 1/2 tablespoons Thai or spicy seasoning

2 pounds extra-large sea scallops

4 (10-inch sprigs) rosemary or bamboo skewers

MANGO SALSA

Combine sugar cane juice, fish sauce, lime juice and chile paste in large bowl and whisk until well blended. Add mango, tomato, green onions, shallot, chopped cilantro, lemon grass, garlic and serrano chile and toss until completely coated. Transfer to serving bowl and garnish with cilantro sprigs.

SCALLOPS

Combine olive oil and Thai seasoning in mixing bowl and whisk to blend. Add scallops and toss gently to coat well. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and let marinate in refrigerator 3 hours.

Prepare charcoal or gas grill.

Strip leaves from rosemary sprigs to make skewers or substitute bamboo skewers. Thread scallops on skewers, dividing evenly. Grill 3 minutes on each side. (Alternatively, heat 2 teaspoons olive oil in large skillet over high heat, add scallops and saute 2 to 3 minutes on each side.)

Place 1 skewer on each of 4 serving plates, spoon Mango Salsa onto other side of plate and serve.

Makes 6 servings. Each serving:

237 calories; 691 mg sodium; 40 mg cholesterol; 10 grams fat; 15 grams carbohydrates; 21 grams protein; 0.85 gram fiber.

THAI NOODLE SALAD

The noodles turn a pretty shade of pink from the red onions, which, along with the lemon grass, lime juice, fish sauce and chiles give the salad a clean, tangy flavor. The recipe was developed by Robert Danhi of the Southern California Academy of Culinary Arts.

Water

2 (1.8-ounce) packages bean thread (cellophane) noodles

1/2 red onion, diced

1 large cucumber, peeled, seeded and diced

1 stalk lemon grass, tough leaves removed, thinly sliced, or 1 tablespoon dried lemon grass

Juice of 4 or 5 small limes

2 to 3 tablespoons fish sauce

3 serrano chiles, seeded and minced

1 tablespoon mint leaves, sliced

5 green onions, thinly sliced

Bring large pot of water to boil. Unwrap noodles and place in bowl. Pour enough boiling water over noodles to cover. Let soak 10 minutes. Drain noodles in colander and return to bowl. Add onion, cucumber, lemon grass, lime juice, fish sauce, chiles, mint and green onions. Mix well. Chill salad at least 30 minutes before serving.

Makes 6 servings. Each serving:

87 calories; 258 mg sodium; 0 cholesterol; 0 fat; 21 grams carbohydrates; 1 gram protein; 0.52 gram fiber.

PORK VINDALOO

Tasters in The Times Test Kitchen asked for seconds and thirds of this Indian stew from a recipe by the Southern California Academy of Culinary Arts’ Robert Danhi. The high acidity in the dish means the stew should be cooked in a stainless-steel, enamel or earthenware pot. Serve the vindaloo with rice and vegetables.

6 small dried red chiles or to taste

1 cup coconut vinegar or other 6% acidic vinegar

1 1/2 tablespoons minced ginger root

20 cloves garlic, hard ends removed, crushed

2 1/2 tablespoons cumin

1 teaspoon pepper

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon cardamom

1/2 teaspoon cloves

1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

1 (4-pound) pork butt, cut in 1-inch cubes

1/2 cup ghee (clarified butter) or oil

5 onions, finely diced

2 tablespoons brown sugar, packed

4 teaspoons kosher salt

Soak chiles in vinegar until soft, about 10 minutes. Place in blender with ginger and garlic. Puree until smooth. Add cumin, pepper, cinnamon, cardamom, cloves and nutmeg. Puree once again and pour over pork. Mix well and let meat marinate up to 2 hours.

Heat ghee over medium-high heat. Add onions and saute until they start to brown, 10 to 15 minutes. Add pork with marinade. Bring to boil, then lower heat. Simmer, covered, 45 minutes, then uncover and simmer until pork is tender, 45 minutes more.

Season with brown sugar and salt.

Makes 8 servings. Each serving:

431 calories; 1,329 mg sodium; 111 mg cholesterol; 25 grams fat; 17 grams carbohydrates; 36 grams protein; 1.17 grams fiber.

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Kitchen Tips

Called nam pla in Thai, nuoc mam in Vietnamese, petis in Filipino and tuk trey in Cambodian, fish sauce is simply the salt brine in which fish have been pickled. It has a loud fishy aroma, and in small quantities it gives an indispensable authentic flavor to many Southeast Asian dishes. You can find fish sauce at Asian grocery stores and somethines in the Asian section of the supermarket.

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Southeast Asian cooks use the hard green, tart flesh of unripened mangoes in salads, relishes and beverages. Look for similar fruit in Asian markets here. Supermarket mangoes that have not yet softened cannot be substituted. *

Freshly squeezed sugar cane juice is a popular beverage in Vietnam, Singapore and other Southeast Asian countries. Here, canned juice imported from Asia is available in some large Asian markets. The flavor is mellow and harmonious with honey or brown sugar, which are suggested as substitutes when a small amount is needed for cooking.

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Don’t expect a strong coconut flavor in coconut vinegar. Like other vinegars, it mostly smells of acetic acid, but it does have a whiff of coconut aroma which complements the flavor of many Asian dishes. It can be found in Indian and Thai markets.