Taperebá

Cold juice poured over soaked pearls is the defining Belém drink, sold from a cart before noon.

The pulp is far too sharp to drink neat; every juice stand sweetens it before serving.

Blended into a milkshake, sweet milk tames an aggressively tropical sourness.

Fat rounds off a fruit that leans harder into acid than its Northeastern cousin does.

Adding citrus to an already sharp fruit only works because the perfume underneath survives it.

Muddled whole, it makes a sharper, more perfumed caipirinha than lime ever does.

Salt and heat rimmed on the juice glass, the same market habit as its Northeastern cousin.

Belém thins the pulp into a savoury sauce for grilled river shrimp, doing the work lime does elsewhere.

A resinous tropical sourness macerated into a clear spirit gives it a character citrus peel usually supplies.