La Cocina Boricua de la Familia Galarza

420 W Fullerton Avenue
Chicago, IL 60647
(773) 235-7377

Last night, I dreamt of tostones...it all seems like yesterday, so far away...this is where I long to be (La) Cocina Boricua (de la Familia Galarza). Yep, Madonna couldn't have crooned about it better. Wait. She's British now and over her Latin fixation. Or is she? Let's ask A-Rod. *rimshot* Thank you very much. I'm here all week.

My good friend, Guy, was in town and I wanted to take him to a cool spot that was pure Chicago - but not hip. He was staying downtown, so I first thought I'd have to work my magic in the loop. When his sister showed up with her truck, I knew it was on and poppin' in Bucktown. We descended on the spot on a slow Sunday night. There was only one family in the dining room when we arrived. We walked in, our waitress greeted us with a smile and nodded us towards a booth. We slid in and started to drool.

I knew, from doing my research, that whatever we ordered, I had to have some of that garlic oil. More on that later. Our waitress (I am blanking on her name; forgive me!!) was very friendly and talkative. She brought over some chips and salsa (I know) and suggested some great appetizers and humored my Spanglish and terrible accent. The one thing I didn't need help ordering was a beverage: Pineapple Jarrito and keep 'em coming!

A short while later, we were greeted with sugary fruit soda and our apps: an order of the appetizer combo platter (natch), the garlic oil, a plate of fried pork (on the house) and an order of guachitos. What are guachitos? They are what will change your life and set you free. Picture it: tostone, topped with guacamole (don't trip) TOPPED WITH SAUSAGE! My friend and his sister almost lost fingers trying to reach for them. I wasn't playing around. And the garlic oil. Words fail. Dunk it, drizzle it, sop it...do whatever. You can't go wrong. How something so simple can taste so good and make everything it touches pop with flavor...masterful. The waitress walked up, laughed at us eating and attacking each other, conversed in Spanglish and told us our meals were coming up.

I ordered a Chicken Jibarito (w/a side of rice) and it was the best I've had. Really. When she dropped off the food, my (formerly of Texas) friend (tall, red head, very Irish looking) said, "Gracias." She then responded in some rapid fire Spanish none of us caught. She smiled, then looked at me sorta crazy and said, "You don't speak Spanish??!?" (sheepishly) "Not very well. I'm sorry." "Aren't you Puerto Rican?!?" "No, I'm not." "Oohh! That explains why your accent was so bad. Hahaha." (followed by a slap on the back) Yes, I got played by the waitress but I was getting so full I didn't care.

And she was nice because then she said, "Papa, you need another Jarrito?" Nods yes. "What flavor?" "Sangria! I am almost done with my food." "Oohh, good choice." How can you not like that?

She brought back a cold Sangria Jarrito (same company; different brand?), I feebly finished my meal, my friend and his sister did the same, then we all slouched back in the booth in comfortable pain. Even though, by this time, the restaurant was closing, our waitress let us sit there, like slugs, because she knew how much fried food we'd inhaled in furious gluttony. By the time we could waddle out, she implored us to come back again and eat more. Eat more? I don't know if that's possible, but I am always up for a challenge.