Felicidades Fina and goodnight Irene

I had planned to spend today writing about Restaurant Week, and the fifth consecutive visit that Lovely Co-Worker Sarah and I had planned for lunch at L'Espalier.

And then Irene happened. (To rub it in, she's hurling herself against our windows right now.)

See, last weekend we went down to Puerto Rico to celebrate The Boy's grandmother's hundredth (!) birthday. The plan was to fly in on Saturday, help set up the function room, have a blast on Sunday, and fly back Monday.

The first part of the plan went very well.









The birthday girl:



Despite the fact that we knew a hurricane was coming, we were pretty confident that we'd make it out. But then Irene descended, knocking out power to most of the island (including the airport). On Monday morning, our flight was canceled.

The Boy made a call to JetBlue. The next available flight was ... Thursday.

Now, it could have been worse. There were 90,000 people without drinking water; roads were flooded, trees were down, traffic lights were out. Our only problems were not having clean clothes for a couple of days and having to use up the little vacation time accrued since I finished treatment and went back to work.

With the power out (except for the single line from the neighbor's back-up generator to run the fridge and charge our phones) and a forecast of torrential thunderstorms for the next few days, we settled into a routine of Trivial Pursuit and eating.

Luckily, the power was on at some good restaurants.

Metropol (beware! Website is Flash and has music!) supplied us with avocado salad ('tis the season), ham croquetas, and a fabulous Ropa Vieja:







At Zayas in Hato Rey, there was a very tender empanada de pollo with rice and beans. Oh, and avocado.



At La Parrillada Argentina there was a rich, dark morcilla, served with olive oil-whipped mashed potato:



But it wasn't all meat and fried. On Wednesday, once the worst of the rain had passed, we went to the Plaza del Mercado in Rio Piedras to pick up veggies for lunch.



Oh, and avocado.



The Boy's mom put together a beautiful salt-cod salad:



with a variety of local root veggies.

(Before)





(After)





So while our stay was longer than we had anticipated, it was great. We got to spend extra days with the family; we had some peaceful down-time; and — as is always the case in Puerto Rico — we ate very, very well.



So as long as you don't do too much damage up here, Irene, we'll say nothing more about it. Except perhaps goodnight.

Things we ate in Puerto Rico

Of the many good things about Puerto Rico, one of the best is the food. I don't believe I've ever had a meal I didn't love. And okay, that's partly because they recognize the innate perfection of salt and pork fat, but generally it's easy to find food that's simple, carefully made and delicious.

Some kind of meat, from the land or the sea, fried or braised or pressure-cooked, is always involved. There are beans (pink, mostly) cooked with cilantro and garlic and tomatoes and often a ham hock and calabaza squash.

There is rice, sometimes basic white,

sometimes yellow with pigeon peas,



sometimes rich with meat or seafood.



There are plantains, either yellow, ripe, fried, sweet and caramelized (amarillos), or green, fried, smooshed into flat disks and fried again (tostones).

If there is salad, it's generally iceberg with imported beefsteak tomatoes, finished with grated carrot or canned green beans or corn. Salad is not big.



This may give the impression that each dish is just a repetition of the previous one. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Our first meal: The Boy's mom's own carne mechada, a version of pot roast in which the beef is stuffed with a mixture of ham and olives and braised in a rich tomato sauce with potatoes and carrots.



The next day, we had arroz con gandules and pernil, the second-most perfect thing one can do with a pig:



thanks to Norma (hi, Norma!):



Other lunch experiences involved mofongo (garlicky smooshed plantains) stuffed with conch:



And mofongo stuffed with squid:



An amarillo boat stuffed with ground beef (which was $4.95 with rice and beans):



And an amarillo boat stuffed with fabulous ceviche:



Of course, as in every cuisine, there are some things that are not for the faint of heart. Sea snail salad is one example (this one was lovely, with tender snails in a light vinaigrette):

No meal is complete without avocado. And if the restaurant doesn't supply it? Bring your own!