Caldo De Mariscos – Hearty Mexican Seafood Soup With Shrimp, Fish, And Clams.

The smoke alarm was screaming. Again. You know, sometimes I think my sister-in-law, Rosaura, just wants to set off that thing.

Caldo de Mariscos? Oh, honey, this isn't just soup. This is liquid history, a hug in a bowl, and a battleground all rolled into one. It started way back when the Spanish, those adventurous souls, started mixing things up with what we already had. Indigenous folks were using everything from the coast—shells, fish—for centuries! Then, Spain brought tomatoes, cilantro... ¡ándale!, suddenly, BAM! Seafood soup like you’ve never tasted. My grandmother always said it was originally fisherman's fare; something quick, easy, and hearty after a long day wrestling with the ocean. They used whatever they caught.

It evolved, of course. Each coastal region claimed their version was the best. Veracruz, Baja California, Sinaloa…they all swear their caldo cures everything from heartache to a bad hair day. (My cousin Marco swears it cured his athlete's foot, but I don’t trust Marco). The style varies – some are tomato-based, others are a clear broth, some spicy, some mild… but they ALL have one thing in common: an abundance of the sea.

My abuela, bless her heart, made the BEST caldo. But she also made everyone compete for it. It wasn't about enjoying a delicious meal, it was about proving your worthiness. Firstborn got first dibs, naturally. Then, whoever could tell the funniest joke. Sometimes, you just had to elbow your way in. It was chaos. Glorious chaos.

Rosaura tried to "improve" abuela's recipe last Thanksgiving. “A touch of truffle oil,” she said. TRUFFLE OIL! In seafood soup! Ay Dios mío. You would have thought she insulted the Virgin Mary. My tío Raúl nearly choked on his turkey. The yelling started before the first spoonful even touched anyone’s lips.

Then there was the Great Shrimp Debacle of '98. My brother, Javier, decided to use frozen shrimp instead of fresh. FROZEN. Like he didn't know better. Abuela pretended to faint. My aunt Elena accused him of trying to poison the family. It ended with Javier doing dishes for a month. He still brings frozen shrimp to barbecues, just to test the waters.

And oh, Tía Mildred! That woman... She once added a whole bottle of hot sauce to the caldo because she couldn’t find her glasses and thought it was Worcestershire. ¡Ay caramba! We were all sweating bullets, tears streaming down our faces. Even the dog ran for water. She still insists it was a brilliant addition. Honestly? She has a point. It WAS memorable.

Last year, my daughter, Sofia, decided SHE was going to make the caldo. At twelve years old. With all the confidence of a seasoned chef. She followed a TikTok recipe, of course. Which meant it involved avocado puree and lime foam. Lime FOAM. I almost lost it. (My husband, Ricardo, secretly loved it, the traitor.)

The worst part is when the salsa spills. Oh, the salsa. It's like a domino effect of disaster. Red everywhere. Screaming. Blaming. My mother-in-law always says it’s a sign of good luck. I think it's a sign we need a bigger table and industrial-strength stain remover.

I remember one time, my cousin Isabel tried to impress a boy by dramatically ladling out the caldo… and accidentally dumped it all over his head. He was mortified. She married him anyway. Apparently, lukewarm seafood soup is a surprisingly effective aphrodisiac. (Don’t quote me on that).

This isn’t just about the ingredients, mija, it's about the stories. The arguments. The laughter. The love. It's about remembering those who came before us and honoring their traditions... even if they involved questionable amounts of hot sauce or lime foam. It’s messy, loud, and perfect. And yeah, sometimes the smoke alarm goes off. But that’s family.

Recipe

Ingredients 🌽🥘

• 1 tbsp olive oil
• 1 medium white onion, chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 red bell pepper, chopped
• 2 ripe tomatoes, diced
• 1 jalapeño, seeded and minced (optional)
• 1 tsp ground cumin
• 1/2 tsp smoked paprika
• 8 cups fish stock (or water with fish bouillon)
• 1 lb white fish fillets (cod, halibut, snapper), cut into bite-sized pieces
• 1/2 lb large shrimp, peeled and deveined
• 1 lb clams, scrubbed
• 1/4 cup chopped cilantro
• Juice of 1 lime
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• Optional garnishes: avocado slices, tortilla chips, extra cilantro, lime wedges

Tools 🔪🥄

• Large pot or Dutch oven
• Cutting board
• Knife
• Measuring cups and spoons
• Ladle

Steps

1. Heat the olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add the onion and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Don't burn it, mija! That’s a disaster.
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2. Add the garlic, bell pepper, and jalapeño (if using) to the pot and cook for another 3-5 minutes until slightly tender. Remember, we want flavor, not mush.
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3. Stir in the diced tomatoes, cumin, and smoked paprika. Cook for 2 minutes, allowing the spices to bloom. This is where the magic happens.
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4. Pour in the fish stock and bring to a boil. Once boiling, reduce the heat and simmer for 15 minutes to let the flavors meld. Abuela would say you have to "talk" to the soup while it simmers. I just stir it.
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5. Gently add the white fish to the simmering broth and cook for 5-7 minutes, or until cooked through and flaky. Don’t overcook it, or it’ll be rubbery! My uncle Raúl hates rubbery fish.
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6. Add the shrimp and clams to the pot. Cover and cook for 5-8 minutes, or until the shrimp are pink and opaque and the clams have opened. (Discard any clams that don’t open – they’re no good!).
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7. Stir in the cilantro and lime juice. Season with salt and black pepper to taste. Taste it, mija, and adjust! Everyone has their own preference.
8. Serve hot, garnished with avocado slices, tortilla chips, extra cilantro, and lime wedges, if desired. And try not to spill the salsa!

Make-Ahead / Storage

• Caldo de Mariscos can be made one day ahead of time. Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator.
• The flavors will actually develop more overnight! It's like a little surprise for yourself.
• Reheat gently on the stovetop. Do NOT microwave – it ruins the texture of the seafood. Seriously.
• Leftovers can be stored in the refrigerator for up to 2 days.

Side Dish Pairing

• Esquites: Mexican street corn salad—it's sweet, spicy, and tangy, a perfect complement to the seafood.
• Plantain chips with a mango salsa: Because who doesn’t love a little sweetness with their spice?

Tía Mildred always decía, “A little bit of chaos makes everything taste better.”

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