Food is kind of like a hug you can eat. That’s why every time I make Puerto Rican dishes, I feel like I’m wrapping my whole family (and half the neighborhood if they wander in) in one big, warm abrazo.
The smell that takes over the house
Let’s start with arroz con gandules. If you’ve never smelled sofrito sizzling in a pan, you’re missing out on what happiness actually smells like. Garlic, onion, peppers—it’s the kind of scent that has my kids poking their heads into the kitchen asking, “is it ready yet?” even though I literally just started cooking. I always laugh because I used to do the same thing growing up, sneaking a spoon into the pot when I thought nobody was looking. Spoiler: everyone was looking, and nobody cared.
Food that feels like family
And don’t get me started on pernil. That crispy pork skin? I swear it has healing powers. I’ve seen people go quiet after that first bite, like they just need a private moment with their plate. Whenever I cook pernil, my cousins, neighbors, and random “friends of friends” somehow appear at my front door like magic. It’s not just food—it’s a gathering spell.
Mofongo is another one. Mashed plantains, garlic, chicharrón. It’s the dish that makes me stop mid-bite and go, “ugh, this is SO good” out loud like a weirdo. But you know what? Everybody else is saying the same thing, so I don’t feel bad.
Food has this sneaky way of stitching people together. A plate of arroz con pollo on a weeknight can feel like a family reunion. Passing around tostones at the table turns into a round of stories and laughter. And don’t even try to clean up before everyone’s licked their plates, because someone will always ask for “just one more spoon.”
So yeah, Puerto Rican food is more than recipes—it’s memory, it’s love, it’s community served up with extra garlic. Every time I make these dishes here in Cape Coral, I feel connected to my roots and my people, no matter how far away they are. And honestly? That’s the best taste of all.
