Mofongo And The Fight For Food In Puerto Rico

Two of my favorite things in this world are food and travel. If you ever run into me doing both of these things in a truly exploratory experience, you'll have found me, as they say, "in my element."

Growing up in south Florida, I worked my way through various kitchens at a very early age and this is where I began my lifelong relationship with food. South Florida is a melting pot of so many different culinary cultures. As a main arrival point for basically anyone traveling from south of the United States, the Miami area is rife with food history. When you have a vibrant blend of people and culture in an individual area you end up with the unique tapestry of the individual's personal food favorites all woven together but still existing independently. In Miami, you have obvious Cuban influences, but also Haitian cuisine, food from Trinidad & Tobago, and all throughout the Caribbean, including Puerto Rico.

During my years living in Miami, I've had the opportunity to try them all. Recently, I had the opportunity to travel to Puerto Rico and participate in their annual wine and food festival, Saborea Puerto Rico. The week would provide me the exploratory experience that I crave. Upon arrival, the festival group prepared a press conference which included various members of the media and a handful of invited personalities who would be participating during the weekend event. The panel included a handful of stateside people, like myself, as well as a handful of local notable chefs and restaurateurs.

Right from the start, the conversation moved into a 45-minute conversation about mofongo. Mofongo is a dish commonly found on the island made of fried then mashed plantains which can be mixed with any number of other ingredients from vegetables to various meats. It's a versatile starchy dish with numerous variations, and dates back centuries to a far earlier time when people cooked and ate food from readily available ingredients that were simple and filling. So, a near hour-long conversation by chefs about this one dish was extremely interesting. To a casual spectator, it would be the equivalent to a group of English professors gathering around to discuss the merits of the letter "K". Extended conversations between chefs don't generally revolve around a single, commonly found dish. But you see, this conversation wasn't really about mofongo. This conversation was about the struggle for a culinary identity in Puerto Rico.

This one dish is known in places off the island, like Spanish Harlem or Miami Beach, as Puerto Rican cuisine. As a southern chef, I know this struggle for identity very well. I see it often. Southern cuisine, to those people who live it, and know it in their hearts, is about fresh locally accessible ingredients, generationally passed down recipes, and special care and attention to the details, or food heritage. Southern cuisine in the general lexicon can at times be boiled down to fried chicken, salted ham, or flat green beans. It was exciting to see these chefs engaging in a passionate discourse about what defines them as chefs, and what defines their culinary heritage. They are young, energetic and unapologetic about what they believe Puerto Rican cuisine to be. How do you embrace the past but also steward in the future? Does the food define a people or region, or do the people who cook the food truly hold that defining power? All intriguing questions, and there are no wrong answers.

It occurred to me while I was taking in the conversation, gleefully spectating mostly, instead of forcing the conversation in my direction, that these passionate chefs, some of the most notable and brightest food minds on the island, were going to be showing off their talents all week, and I was going to be in for a real treat. So with nearly a week to spend in Puerto Rico, I was going to make it my mission to explore every outlet possible and truly embrace the food scene from every different angle. Saborea translates to "a taste of" in English. This adventure, for me, would be my own saborea in Puerto Rico.

El Jibarito, Old San Juan. My first stop on this adventure was to a locals' restaurant in Old San Juan. While parts of the town square area of Old San Juan can have a more corporate feel, El Jibarito is definitely on the authentic local side of the spectrum. Immediately upon walking inside the establishment, you see a big Puerto Rican flag hanging off the second floor balcony. The flag is seen all over the island and serves as a visual reminder of the iconic Puerto Rican pride that exists in all Puerto Ricans. As a comparison, the service and decor are similar to any "greasy spoon" diner. And similarly, the quality of food there can be quite good. Nothing too exploratory, just tasty people food. That's what El Jibarito offers, tasty food and the hustle and bustle of a diner experience at lunchtime. Many people rave about their blend of mofongo. I wasn't impressed. Instead, I would recommend trying their tostones (fried plantains) and the pastales, which are similar to tamales with pork. What I loved most about El Jibarito wasn't the food, which was very good. But rather, I loved the familiarity of the restaurant. The universal language of food and restaurants.

For the past year I have been writing a book about some of the best "mom and pop" restaurants in the southeast. It's called Southern Routes and it's about my trip across 10 states to find my favorite foods, but mostly it's about the stories behind the food. The heritage of southern cuisine. El Jibarito was exactly like so many restaurants of this type. Swap out the menu, which was written in Spanish, and change that Puerto Rican flag to an SEC team banner, and I could have been just as easily in Alabama or Georgia. The same care and attention of a family-owned restaurant could be found at El Jibarito. They open at the break of dawn, close when the last check has been paid, cook all the food, and they've been doing it like that for years.

Zest Restaurant, San Juan Water Beach Hotel. On Friday night, I had the pleasure of dinner cooked and served by Puerto Rican chef Raul Correa of Zest Restaurant located at the San Juan Water Beach Hotel. Chef Correa has won numerous awards recently and is considered to be one of the best new chefs on the island. If lunch at El Jibarito was a story about traditional Puerto Rican food, dinner with chef Correa was a glimpse into its future. Just a few bites into the service, I could tell that this evening was going to be something special. The starting dish was a spicy swordfish with a pomegranate salsa verde. As Correa described the first dish and his love for locally accessible ingredients, I could tell that his attention to the individual merits of each ingredient in each dish would be a delight to taste. His inventive take on his food is both playful and serious, and definitely creative.

The second dish was blend of sea meets land, with a pair of garlic clams next to a pork belly, wading in a sweet clam broth. This dish was a beautiful mixture of taste and texture that had everything from sweet to spicy, from rich to savory all working together beautifully in unison. The chef rounded out the service with a coffee-rubbed lamb over a malanga and mango chutney. Puerto Ricans love their coffee. I love their coffee. The entree was a perfect cap to a fabulously prepared and well thought-out menu. I have no doubt that chef Correa will be ushering in the future of Puerto Rican cuisine. His approach was serious, but the furthest thing from self-important. Some of the best chefs on the planet are people you may have never heard of. They keep their head down, and they focus on food and the dining experience. He's modern, without being frivolous. His food demands attention, without resorting to parlor tricks to achieve it.

Mi Casa by José Andrés, Dorado Beach, a Ritz-Carlton Reserve. Late Saturday afternoon we traveled outside of San Juan to Dorado. A sign on the way should have said "Welcome to Paradise." The restaurant and surrounding resort were both quite impressive. It's located right on the beach. Our timing couldn't have been any better, as we were able to watch the sun set while dining at Mi Casa. While Mi Casa is famed Spanish chef José Andrés' masterpiece, down to the famed red chair and the shining meat carver, chef Victor Rosado is the executor of that vision. Chef Andrés has chosen very wisely as Mi Casa, by name chef Andrés' home, is in very good hands. Victor is a local Puerto Rican, and similar to the chefs at the press conference, he speaks with passion and delivers with execution. He shared his love for the island, his fellow chefs around the island, and how they are gradually reclaiming Puerto Rican food for what it is, not what it is perceived to be. In a playful style just like chef Andrés created, we walked around the menu sampling items and enjoying craft cocktails that featured fresh island flavors. As starters, we enjoyed chicken and béchamel fritters, and my personal favorite, maybe of the entire night, Cañarejal cheese and green papaya marmalade. I love starters and that cheese was a memorable bite. One that you dream about many months and thousands of miles away.

Another whimsical Andrés creation, executed to perfection by chef Rosado, is the "organized" caesar salad. Presented like a traditional sushi roll, this dish was romaine rolled in jicama with parmesan, avocado, anchovies, and an egg yolk; this dish was smart and amusing all at the same time. And last, but definitely not least, chef Rosado prepared a carne asada dish with fresh mushrooms, and a gritty corn concoction that tasted like buttered popcorn. He went on to tell us that, no matter what accolades he may receive, it's his grandmother who has truly mastered this dish, as she will be the first to tell him. Between chefs Correa and Rosado, the future of Puerto Rican cuisine is in fresh, young hands. And I'm left wondering how it's taken me this many years to experience Puerto Rico, when it's been right here and easily accessible this entire time.

Chicharrón, Placita de Santurce, San Juan. Saturday night we were treated to a special preview/launch party for chef Roberto Trevino's newest restaurant, Chicharrón. With countless restaurants under his belt, chef Trevino is affectionately known as the king of cuisine in Puerto Rico. Aside from having a few of San Juan's hottest spots, Trevino serves as a culinary ambassador for Puerto Rican food, a role that he does not take lightly. He works the room with grace; his contagious smile is warm and inviting. It's only fitting that I've seen Puerto Rico's past and future, that I'm now treated to a taste of the present. Chicharrón is a casual neighborhood restaurant located in the Placita de Santurce district of San Juan. The neighborhood is undergoing a revitalization. Numerous restaurants and bars have popped up in the area and it has quickly gained new life as a young and vibrant part of town. By sheer virtue of its name, Chicharrón is primed to be a favorite of mine. While some people love ham, or bacon, or the chop, I contend with great passion, that the best part of a pig is its skin. Fried crisp, glassy opaque in appearance, call it a pork rind, fried pig skin, or a chicharrón, call it Susie for all I care, I love it. The menu on this night was limited, but you can definitely tell that between the food, chef Trevino's culinary acumen, and the burgeoning neighborhood, that there will be a long line coming out of this place in no time. Trevino's attention to detail is impeccable, from the reclaimed wood walls, to the pantry pass and all the way down to the hand-poured cement step emblazoned with "Chicharrón."

Lechonera Los Pinos, Cayey. Sunday morning was something completely different. Sunday morning was about the journey for whole hog. We were traveling about an hour south of San Juan down a place called the "pork highway." The fabled Route 184, a winding mountain pass where these small mom-and-pop shops open up along the highway to sell food (read: pork), called lechoneras. The lechoneras are plentiful and continue up the mountain. The smell of roasting pig has permeated the air. Hundreds of locals gather on the mountain and feast on the whole roasted pigs. Whole hog on Sundays dates back well over 200 years in parts of the southern United States. Proteins were nowhere near as prolific or accessible as they currently exist in our modern life. Meat, of any kind, was a luxury people could not afford. An entire town would gather and they'd roast a whole hog. This became the foundation of what we know of as barbecue today. Parts of the Carolinas still embrace whole hog as the only true barbecue. The only thing I'm 100 percent certain of in life is that when an entire community wants to come together to cook a meal, I want to be there.

We stop at Lechonera Los Pinos. The glass countertop is welcoming as you can see the whole hog rotating on a spit, right there in front. As we wandered past other lechoneras it seemed to be a relatively common practice. The pig in the front window is their calling card. He invites people from off the street to come in and enjoy him. Los Pinos is no different. I went with some of the whole hog, of course. As well as some blood sausage and a little of their roasted turkey. The turkey was interesting because they're cooked in the pork drippings, just based on the way their spits are set up. So, the slow roasted turkey bears a strong taste resemblance to pork, but the texture is consistent with turkey.

The whole hog is tender and juicy, and they give you a big chunk of crispy skin. They have a handful of starchy sides that go along with the meat celebration. If you're coming to the area, you should arrive sooner rather than later. The lines start to get pretty long around midday lunchtime, and early into the evening they will stop serving. Because a single hog can feed dozens upon dozens of people, if it's near closing time, they're not going to start a new one. I don't know why you'd want to wait until the end of the day to visit anyways. The Pork Highway is a day-long excursion that shouldn't be missed. It's live music, little roadside shops, local bars where you can just pull up and take a break, and of course lechoneras.

Budatai Condado, San Juan. Sunday evening is time for one final meal in San Juan. This time we're at chef Trevino's Budatai in the Condado district of San Juan. The two-story restaurant is absolutely gorgeous. The first level has an impressive full glass wall that looks out over a massive city park in Condado. The second level is part restaurant, and part roof-like patio where you can feel like you're a part of the skyline. A well thought-out fine dining experience. The cuisine at Budatai can be described as Asian/Latin. Listening to Chef Trevino describe the dishes he's bringing out, you can tell there's a long-standing relationship that he has here. And come to find out, there actually is. Fifteen years ago Trevino opened up The Dragonfly in Old San Juan. The Dragonfly would serve as inspiration for what Budatai would become nearly 20 years later.

For starters, the pork dumpling guisados with shaved truffle are an absolutely can't miss. They absolutely melt in your mouth and are one of the best selling dishes on the menu. While tasting through the menu with chef Trevino, you see how smart and interesting he gets with his ingredients. Focusing mainly on local ingredients, Trevino then transforms those ingredients into an experience inspired from half across the world. The house kim chee was the perfect blend of fresh ingredients and a beautiful marriage of tastes. And while I'm still on starters, the seared octopus with Schezuan peppercorn sauce was spot on. I had octopus twice while in Puerto Rico, and I can confidently say both occasions involved some of the best octopus I've ever had. Trevino's duck fried rice and duck croquetas were both skillfully accomplished duck dishes that embraced the fatty texture of a duck breast. There's a reason why people are dying to dine at chef Trevino's restaurants. The concepts are smart. He's true to his ingredients. And you can still feel the love he has for his craft.

What started as a fun trip to a place I've never been turned into a near week-long love affair with Puerto Rican cuisine. The area is growing and defining its modern identity. Those changes are seen in the warm and inviting attitudes of the people, all the way down to the interesting crossroads of cuisine where they currently sit. How does tradition mix with progress? Ultimately, that's the next generation of Puerto Rican chefs challenge to accomplish. But if my experience with their love of fresh ingredients, and their passion for their country, food, and culture is any indicator, the people of Puerto Rico are in for a tasty ride. One that I'm definitely going to be checking in on regularly. And if you are a lover of food and adventure, Puerto Rico is just a puddle jump away!