It’s not often that I find latô this big at the market. Mutants, I call them, though they are as natural as the smaller latô — the ones aptly called sea grapes. These, on the other hand, are more like teardrops. Jade teardrops.
I had never really taken to this particular seaweed until I discovered it came this big, and then suddenly I couldn’t get enough. My father thinks I’m just taken in by the size, says the small ones taste better. I don’t agree, but a case could be made for his contention. The large latô are from Bohol and therefore not as fresh as the smaller, more recently harvested local latô. The harvest-to-market difference may only be a matter of hours, but it matters. Latô is 96% moisture. Once out of the sea and exposed to air, its delicate structure breaks down quickly. Vendors even advise against rinsing it in water until the very last minute before serving, if at all. Douse it in acid (like vinegar, the condiment of choice) and it promptly begins to disintegrate, which is why they are always served separately.
Having said that, I still prefer mutant latô. It has more pop, if less of the crunch. I also find it less slimy — a good thing in my book. Flavor-wise, it’s not as briny as the smaller latô, but nearer — or at — the source, who knows? Now there’s an idea. I’ve always wanted to visit Bohol again…
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