Sun Sentinel Palm Beach Edition
TAKE A CULINARY TRIP TO PUERTO RICO
Intensely green, verging on chartreuse, plantains hang like chandeliers from tall broad-leafed plants across the Caribbean. The botanical name is Musa paradisiaca, the second word meaning “of paradise.” The platano is generous, and past their prime, their flesh can be eaten in all stages of ripeness. can be boiled, then blended with In Puerto Rico, the greenest butter, and then pressed into a ones can be fried, smashed pan to make pastelon, a casserole and blended with garlic, olive oil layered with sofrito-laced beef. and chicharrones — pork cracklins I was born in Río Piedras, — to make mofongo, one of Puerto Rico, but raised in the the island’s best-known dishes. suburbs outside Atlanta. My When their peels turn bright family traveled back to Puerto yellow, speckled with dark spots, Rico often — not always the case platanos can be fried and served for those of us on the U.S. mainland alongside rice and beans for that — and I was fascinated by signature agridulce flavor, sweet those plantain chandeliers. I lived and salty. And when they finally in two worlds in my mind: a lush, become black and squishy, seemingly loud, exciting tropical wonderland, and a seemingly cultureless, strip mall-laden labyrinth of subdivisions.
Puerto Rican cuisine is a culinary mejunje, or mix, of Indigenous, African, Spanish and American ingredients and techniques.
In “Eating Puerto Rico,” food historian Cruz Miguel Ortíz explores how Indigenous herbs and root vegetables; African plantains and coconuts; Spanish olive oil, pork and tomatoes; and American canned foods form the mestizo or Creole cuisine exemplified on the island. And the culinary bricolage of the island continues to expand as a younger generation of farmers and chefs insist on modernizing the cuisine.
“Porque es vivo,” Ortiz said. “Y simple.” The cuisine is alive, in flux, he said, yet simple and intensely flavored. Its foundation is sofrito — a blend of garlic, onions, peppers, and recao or culantro (cilantro’s earthy cousin, which thrives on the island). Even in the darkest times, the smell of sofrito sizzling in olive oil is a balm; blended with tomato sauce and rice, its flavor conjures comfort.
Sofrito, for me, is essential. But what is “essential” is subjective, so I believe it’s about what fulfills a need. For some of us, that need is nostalgia. A dish may be essential because it fills your heart with joyful memories, of smells and flavors, of your grandmother loudly playing Juan Luis Guerra, teaching you to dance, her hair still in rollers. For others, essential might mean nourishing to the body, or a meal that fills you ahead of a long day of work. Above all, these dishes exemplify a deeply creative people, who make food that is flavorful and soul-nourishing.