TEXAS WILDLIFE
OUTDOOR TRADITIONS
Texas Cactus Article and photos by SALLIE LEWIS
O
ver the last year, while living in the Texas Hill Country, my appreciation for the outdoors deepened dramatically. As the seasons changed, I watched life ebb and flow, noticing the birds that came and went and the flowers that bloomed before returning to seed. To my delight, as time passed I saw Mother's Nature's country colors, I saw Mother Nature’s country colors reveal themselves through the landscape. In spring, the prickly pear cacti at my family’s ranch in Fredericksburg flowered with vibrant yellow blooms. By summer’s end, their bulbous fruit, known as tunas, ripened from pale green to electric pink, dark red and deep purple.
54 T E X A S W I L D L I F E
JUNE 2021
Across northwestern Mexico and the southwestern United States, people have eaten varietals of nopal—the Spanish word for cactus—for thousands of years. Today, cactus is still an important dietary staple in Mexico thanks to its ample medicinal and nutritional benefits. In border towns and cities like Laredo, it’s common to see street vendors selling tunas, chilled over ice, as snacks to passersby. Much like the cactus pads, the fruits are loaded with nutrients, such as magnesium and potassium, calcium and iron, along with Vitamins A and C. Unbeknownst to many, the prickly pear cactus is the official state plant of Texas. It is available both canned and raw in many Texas grocery stores, and is easy to plant in your garden at home. At my parents’ house in San Antonio, we have a thornless varietal that grows in the backyard, and we harvest the pads regularly. For years, my family has eaten nopalitos—or stewed cactus— drawn to its healthiness, versatility and unique flavor profile. After removing the spines with a small paring knife, the pads can be boiled, sliced and soft-scrambled with eggs, or sautéed with onions, tomatoes, cilantro and queso fresco. Another popular preparation is to sear the pad whole like a steak and layer it with ground beef, mushrooms, tomatoes and melted cheese. Last year, as summer waned and fall flickered in Fredericksburg, my family and I tried something new. Noticing the abundance of prickly purple tunas growing atop the cacti on our property, we decided to harvest the fruits for our first time. With gloved hands and long steel tongs, we set out on foot, filling a large plastic tub with the fruits of our labor. Back at the house, we surveyed the loot and rolled up our sleeves. Like the cacti’s pads, preparing its tunas for consumption is a labor of love. We began by peeling their fuchsia flesh, wary of the fine, spiny hairs called glochids that burrow beneath the skin. Burning the fruit, be it with a torch or on the stovetop, is another effective means for glochid-removal. Next, we pureed the tunas and strained their seeds, leaving a sweet and tangy, jewel-colored juice that lingers in memory to this day. That evening, as we pulled the last of the bristles from our fingertips and sipped ice-cold prickly pear margaritas, I gave thanks for the day and the age-old tradition we’d partaken in. Pretty soon now the tunas on our property will transform once again, from pale green to hot pink and magenta-red. As they do so, I’ll be gearing up, with gloved hands and tongs in tow, ready to work for a timeless taste of Texas.
