Once upon a time I loved my daddy a whole lot. We’d sit on the couch together and we’d watch sports I didn’t care about. The only thing I cared about were all the snacks he had. He always had the best snacks. There was ice cream and saltine crackers and of course, plantain chips, straight from the bag. We were best friends then, him and me, and these chips. I never really thought about the chips again until I moved away, far away from home, far away from him and far away from any Cuban and South American food. I was working a boring desk job when a lunch menu was plopped on my desk. It was for a Cuban restaurant nearby. My bratty cynical self about Cuban food in LA started to scan the menu, stopping at my favorite: ropa vieja. When my food was delivered I was right about the ropa vieja but so wrong about the plaintain chips that came for free. They were thin as newspaper, crispy AF and slightly salty. I love mojo sauce on everything and with everything. If you’re unfamiliar, you’re in for a treat. It’s usually made with sour oranges but …

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