This voyage brought me sensory information in the most unconventional way, yet it was also blatantly obvious. Taste. The first trip was about the sights, the second was for the passionate people, rhythm was reserved for third, and now I’ve become more aware of the North.
Leg of lamb marinated with spices almost picked directly from the island. Slow roasted pork served with a plate of platanos, or origami style dumplings drenched in a ginger and soy based sauce. And let’s not forget the pizza. The “I’m too short on break time,” slice; the “I drank too much and hungover,” slice; and the “stare deeply into my eyes on this date,” slice. Pizza is perfect for any occasion.
How about the home-made dishes like stew-cooked oxtails served in a two story apartment, grandma’s greasy scrambled eggs and cheese, or the danish that got you through your dental visit. There are dishes delivered to each corner, originating in places beyond our borders, and yet there are some who wish to serve only baked chicken. This flavor, this tantalizing mixture of culture and culinary skills can only be witnessed within the walls of someone’s personal kitchen
Restaurants with minimal seating remind us that only the tongue is a selective sensation.