I went to the market this afternoon to purchase ingredients for the lumpia I agreed to bring to a potluck. Bean sprouts, green beans, and jicama all went into my basket as I searched the produce for vegetables to accompany the shrimp I wanted to use in the filling. As I turned toward the seafood counters with its long tables covered in all manner of fish, I saw something I had to buy: lychees. The size of an unshelled walnut and protected by a bumpy outer skin, each lychee resembled what I imagine a prehistoric strawberry would look like. I’d not eaten fresh lychees before, only canned, so I grabbed a netting-bag filled with them to take home.
When making lumpia, it’s the prep work that takes me the longest to complete. I don’t have the best knife skills, so it was some time before I managed to halve and de-vein a pound of shrimp, julienne the jicama, slice the green beans into thin, neatly-formed pieces, and separate the wrappers. My potluck companions included a vegetarian and a friend with a shellfish allergy, so I diligently set up my workspace and tools in order to prepare a separate, half-order sans shrimp for the two of them. The veggies were sauteed with a little soy sauce, vegetable broth, and seasonings to soften them up a bit. The balance of the ingredients was sauteed until the shrimp were cooked; both batches were spread over cookie sheets to cool faster, as I was running out of time. Wrapped, then fried, I bundled up my rolls and hit the road.
Served with a sweet chili sauce, both versions were a hit with the crowd. The next time I make them I will drain the filling a bit longer, though, as the juices softened the wrappers too much during the forty-minute drive to the host’s home in north county. If circumstances permit, I may also consider frying them on location to keep them crisper for a little while longer.
After a meal of hot soup, heavy entrees, wine, and a decadent strawberry tiramisu, I craved something cold, simple, and light. When I returned home, I pulled out the lychees I had left cooling in the refrigerator:
Slicing through the skin with a knife revealed slightly firm, semi-translucent, white flesh that easily popped out of its protective covering. Each bite of the fruit was a joy: it was like drinking tiny cups of cold, sweet water. On a warm night promising true summer just around the corner, those chilled lychees hit the spot.
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