The first time I tasted chamoy was in the Mexican border town of Eagle Pass, Texas. At a street cart vendor, chamoy apples sat alongside elotes and tamales. The tart Granny Smith was rolled in a thick paste that was sweet, salty, spicy and sour all at once.
As I took the first bite, I thought: "There is no way this is gonna work." But it did, and after that, the mere thought of chamoy made me salivate like a Pavlovian dog. I had to learn more about it.