A Chicago classic
Celebrating the Puerto Rican-inspired jibarito sandwich
The jibarito belongs in the pantheon of Chicago street food classics, a delicious dish with a rich history thanks to the genius of its diverse communities. Translated to “little hillbilly” in Spanish, the typical Puerto Rican-inspired jibarito is a sandwich of thin-cut steak or shredded beef, tomatoes, lettuce and garlicky mayo stuck between two fried and “flattened” green plantains.
There’s little doubt that the jibarito was born of Chicago, though no one can agree on its exact origins. Many cite the late Juan Figeroa, the owner of Humboldt Park restaurant Borinquen, as its inventor circa 1996. His brother, Angel Figueroa, told Thrillist that he’s even trademarked “jibarito” in the state of Illinois. The state trademark process doesn’t offer as much protection compared to a federal mark. Experts say state trademarks are only useful if a party accuses another of taking someone else’s idea. Now 24 years after the sandwich’s debut, fans can find jibaritos in a variety of U.S. cities. The sandwich has even arrived in restaurants in Puerto Rico.
Jesus Arrieta, owner of popular local minichain Jibaritos y Más, is comparatively new to the jibarito game — his mother Yelitza Rivera opened the first location in 2016 — but he and wife Tatianny Urdaneta have quickly made a name for themselves among the sandwich’s many devotees. Arrieta’s family is from Venezuela, but he says his mom was attracted to the sandwich because of its similarity to patacón, another green plantain sandwich created in the Venezuelan city of Maracaibo. She also spent years working in Puerto Rican restaurants before striking out on her own. Jibaritos y Más now operates
two locations in Logan Square, and another in Dunning. They recently opened a new spot in Lincoln Park.
Puerto Ricans began trickling into Chicago by way of New York in the 1930s, and began arriving in waves more than a decade later. Chicago is now home to one of the largest Puerto Rican populations in the mainland U.S. It’s also the only American city with an officially designated Puerto Rican neighborhood, with a commercial center in Humboldt Park’s Paseo Boricua. The area, marked by metal archways designed to resemble enormous Puerto Rican flags, is home to prominent community organizations like the Puerto Rican Cultural Center, as well as retail shops, restaurants, and grocery stores that specialize in distinctly Puerto Rican cooking ingredients and cuisine.
Arrieta’s jibaritos differ slightly from the original without straying too far off the path: he features additional proteins including pork, chicken and octopus, and tops the sandwiches with minced garlic, giving it “the magic touch,” he says. In the end, though, he believes it’s the freshness of the product that keeps customers coming back.
“A jibarito has to be made at the minute — how crunchy the plantain is, how the ingredients mix together, the mayo, the garlic on top,” he says. “That’s what people love about it, the texture of a crunchy sandwich. That’s what makes it different.”
Despite its apparent simplicity, jibarito production is a laborious process, largely because of the time and effort involved in peeling a green plantain, which may look like a banana but doesn’t peel like one. And it can’t be just any plantain, Arrieta cautions: it has to be the right size to hold up its end of the sandwich.
Once peeled, the plantain is sliced and fried, then smashed in a press and fried again to create the crunchy texture. Arrieta then cooks the protein — the most popular are bistec (steak) and roasted lechon (pork). He then slathers mayonnaise on the fried plantains and layers them with the lettuce, meat and cheese. He then pops the second plantain on top — supplemented with daubs of minced garlic — slices it in half, and stacks it beside a pile of arroz con gandules, or “Puerto Rican rice” made with pigeon peas and pork.
Arrieta is proud to play a part in the city’s love affair with jibaritos. He credits his loyal customers with keeping his businesses solvent during the pandemic, and he has found success with carryout and delivery. His menus also offer other Puerto Rican favorites like tostones, chuelta frita and mofongo.
“I love that [jibaritos are] a Chicago thing, that it’s so accepted by the people of Chicago,” he says. “It makes them happy and gives us something to have passion for.”
MARSHFIELD, Vt. — It’s the time of year when gardeners are turning their ripe tomatoes into sauces and salsas and cucumbers into pickles. But a boom in gardening and preparing food at home during the coronavirus pandemic has led to a scarcity of supplies with which to preserve them.
From Maine and Vermont to Louisiana and West Virginia, gardeners have reported being in a pickle when it comes to finding certain sized glass jars, the special lids to safely seal them, or the bands with which to screw them on. They’ve gone from store to store and some have given in to paying higher prices online for certain precious socalled canning supplies.
“We have been everywhere,” said Vanessa Ware of Hurricane, West Virginia, who said she went to at least a half-dozen stores after running out of supplies for her tomatoes, peppers, corn and sauerkraut canning. She still had enough leftover jars and lids but not the bands, so she started looking — and looking. And a search of online retail sites proved to be frustrating due to price gouging.
The entire canning industry has seen an unprecedented demand for supplies as more consumers prepare meals at home during the pandemic, said a spokesperson for Newell Brands, owner of Ball, which produces Mason jars and other supplies.
“The demand has resulted in supply constraints, extended lead times and recently limited product availability at stores and online,” the spokesperson said. To replenish the stock as quickly as possible, the company said it’s increased
The scarcity didn’t surprise Elizabeth Andress, project director for the National Center for Home Food Preservation.
“There seem to be more people canning than ever before — from the much higher number of inquiries coming into the National Center for help than in the past, and from the large number of participants I hear are attending virtual food preservation classes that Extension educators around the country have been offering,” said Andress, a professor and Extension food safety specialist at the University of Georgia.
More people put in gardens or expanded their existing plots this spring out of initial fears of a possible food shortage or apprehension about going to the grocery store during the pandemic.
The master garden helpline at the University of Vermont Extension has received more than 500 emails and phone calls since mid-March from new gardeners, those who are expanding their gardens or seeking help with plant disease issues, a jump from previous years, said Lisa Chouinard, the helpline assistant.
“I do believe this is due to COVID as more people are wanting to grow their own food, as well as provide food for those who are in need,” she said by email.
Ware, in West Virginia, was finally able to find some bands for her canning. Her mother-in-law, two hours away, brought them to her. She’s since been able to get more, but only after paying extra because the bands were sold in a package of 12 with the jars and lids, which she didn’t need.
“We don’t need all those jars when we already had them,” she said.
“THE DEMAND HAS RESULTED IN SUPPLY CONSTRAINTS, EXTENDED LEAD TIMES AND RECENTLY LIMITED PRODUCT AVAILABILITY AT STORES AND ONLINE.”
Newell Brands spokesperson