A Latin American interlude

It’s been a while since something food-related prompted me to write here.  Let’s face it: it’s been over a week since anything inspired me to write.  I mean, well, I did cook minestrone again—more tomato-y and spicy.  And I cooked up a “weird” butternut squash soup, complete with fresh-baked bread (which my roommate insists I bake daily.)  But none of this was really blog-worthy.   Until today. 

On my lunch break, I strolled a block through the rain to pick up lunch from “Latin American Restaurant.”  Yes, that’s actually what it’s called.  Though the name is generic, the food is not.  And not only is it cheap as well, but you always leave with two-meals worth of food in your take-out bag.  I’ve only been there once before, but the way my co-workers rave about the food makes me feel like I’ve been going there for years.  It’s our neighborhood secret spot, and mentioning the name alone invokes a craving for filling meal (or two) of Latin soul food done right. 

Now, I’ve probably mentioned that pork is my favorite meat (yes, all you vegetarians and vegans out there—I do have a favorite animal I like to consume).  And I may have also mentioned that I’m particularly fond of the Latin American treatment of this meat—especially in Mexican cuisine.  (Although, Italy comes very close to clinching this place in my heart with its various cured meats.  And, of course, there are the multitudinous Asian takes on pork: buns, dumplings, ramen, and banh mi among them.)  So, whenever I venture into a Latin eatery, I go straight to the pork, whether burritos, tacos, arepas, or just plain ol’ roast pork with rice and beans.  I had had this before from “Latin American,” and even though I knew it would be a satisfying meal, I opted for a delicacy not readily available from the hot bar: mofongo.

Mofongo comes to the US via Puerto Rico, as well as the Dominican Republic, and actually traces its origins to the “fufu” of West Africa--a common dish combining a mashed starch with seasoned meat.  And in this case, the mofongo combines two of my favorites: fried plantains and roast pork, cooked into a solid cake.  Fantastic, right?  It was.  The texture of the dense banana/meat is odd initially (for those of us unaccustomed to this combo), but the taste overcomes any such qualms.  Actually, to do that benefits from a hearty dose of the mystery sauce.  That’s right, “mystery sauce.”  To my surprise, a coffee cup accompanied my mofongo to the staff lounge.  Opening the lid let escape a delicious aroma.  For whatever reason, I always trust in a mystery sauce—it’s usually made with love, as well as the drippings of items cooked earlier in day.  In this case, it looked as if it was ladled straight from a vat of roasted pork.  Drizzle this on your mofongo—done. 

Yes, this rich meal was a nice deviation from the routine, but even the experience at the restaurant was satisfying in a way.  Since my order was not pre-made, I waited at the counter for ten minutes in the very midst of the hustle and bustle—with hardly a word of English spoken.  Phone orders came in fast and furious, with the matron of the joint belting them out to her team of servers rushing to fill tins, cups, and bags for delivery.  For whatever reason, I felt content to be immersed both a foreign language and the business of the restaurant at full lunch-rush tilt.  I would have savored all this by eating at the counter, but with all the food that would have arrived on my plate … I felt it best for it to come already in its doggie bag, aka tomorrow's lunch.