"Savor The Mystery"
The sauce is transformative. The meat - the substance transformed. Bitter and, then, more; to experience the mojito is to experience the passage of life into chrysalis and then the opening into what is to follow.
Enter the Gate of Men, through pillars of bone supported by the flesh of pig, cow, or sheep. That smoky aroma is our chef's own chipotle barbecue sauce, slow simmered for a fortnight in order to bestow depth upon the supplicant. Take your time. Tread slowly- the Gate of Men is not to be entered lightly. Rather, enter with care and a new gate will someday open for you.
It will be thick and fill your mouth. It will take effort to masticate. The labor, however, will reap many rewards to savor. Potato and rice may offer respite, but the work remains, until finished, waiting.
Seven plantains grew together on a tree. One cut separated them. Now they are together once more. Eat this dish. They will be joined. The meat is tender.
The meat is torn by hand and separated into two portions. The rice and beans begin to cook. Then, a pinch of meat from the western portion is added to the eastern portion. Elsewhere, a tomato based sauce issues forth. It is the blood that accompanies birth. When all is right according to specifications, these things are put onto a plate.
To say anything is to say too much.
The dish, in tears, rips through all thought that waits throughout the dawn- logistics, a mystic fear, a troubled mind meets the world upended. In two, a certain sunset makes patches of the floor, a trim white dancer pirouettes in each square of shadow and, in the light, there is nothing.
Served on sweet bread, what lies between is dark and savory, making haunted rivers of the pathways of the mouth. This is the sandwich for those who would know yearning. This is the sandwich for those who would allow space for the beckon of the fire of the heart, who would lend that organ to warm the silence with desire burning the night away.
From the west comes the pig, trotting away from the sun's death. From the east, the pig rises, lifting the dew, its feet held open to the north. In the south is La Plancha and when the noon time comes, the pig is made whole. In heat, the pig is made whole.
Fried onion opens beautifully for you.
Chopped and ready, it is laid out for you- bare and in pieces it constitutes a full meal, complex and varied, each bite a spellunking into pathos, a journey without end.
In the stew, there is everything. There is carrot. There is hen. There is corn. There is guagui. There is cow. There is everything, but it is all the stew. It is all aijaco.
Delve into the murk of this black bean soup with your tongue a lantern whose light brings back a miasma of shadow. The objects then felt may be treasures or lessons in stupefication. Drink deep of the broth of the brine of the hidden sea. Infancy will play its part. The soup will bind.
Enjoy some traditional tamales with part of cow, chicken, pig, or sheep. They are fat fingers of deliciousness. Put them in your mouth and suck on them like a spoiled little pork boy. Cry when they are gone. Go home with a damp cloth napkin, a wet shirt front, and a greasy face. Leave behind nothing but two fingerless stubs.
Each are stuffed with pig and individually hand tied, dare that they be consumed? A pinch of the fingers and a flick of the wrist and they are safe for the wary gullet.
If you close your eyes, you can see them strolling slowly across the plate. Take care, it is hot. Two of them bare flags of their home country. The third is an impostor. They might have black hats. They might have canes. They are often well dressed. They are the the Three Empanadas and they are famous.
Sweet raisin, sweet sunshine, trapped beneath the surface- the proof is in your mouth, once you've taken a bite. Who sees these things? Who is in charge here? Where is the submarine commander that keeps these damnable mermaids in check? A burst of starlight, kidnapped, smuggled, and then baked with the others- is this an unjust act or neccessity's height.
It will not be broadcast. It will not be written down or advertised. It will not be hidden away. It will be available for those who want it, seasonally, and that is all.