MY FAVORITE RESTAURANT

It’s a cool, brisk, Friday evening. You can feel the wind hit your face and make you tear up as you walk along the colorful, energetic streets that highlight your every step of the way and illuminate your footsteps. Just along Division Street, you can feel the cars zooming by the street and making your ears feel numb. You can hear the cries and laughs of children playing in the playgrounds, and the sounds of children running and falling to the ground and scraping their knees. You can hear the cries and shouts of worried parents calling out for the children, and the sound of smooth cotton jackets hugging their mothers and fathers with smiles as big as the moon which has yet to come. You can hear the glass bottles clanking and the men and women laughing and shouting “Salud!” which means “good health” in Spanish. The happiness in the night can be heard from the heart of downtown, and it truly makes up the heartbeat of the town that is Chicago.

Parking the car, walking out, you can see a beautiful Puerto Rican flag that proudly displays its blue, white, and red colors with confidence as it smiles across the whole street, letting every visitor new or old see its smile and inviting them to smile back as well. Walking along the pavement, and there it is. That burnt orange booth that stands out like a giant, red pimple on smooth, soft skin. That smell of spices and fragrance catches your nose's attention and starts pulling you towards the orange booth. The sight of people taking bites of their food and smiling with glee. The sound of TV playing in the background and people talking and laughing with each other. From jibaritos to plantains, from rice and beans to chuletas fritas, it’s all here. In this one place.

Papa’s Cache Sabroso. A name that either rolls off the tongue like butter or cuts your tongue up like a knife. It is a place where memories are shared with family members and friends alike, with food so delectable you can taste just by thinking about it. It is a place no bigger than the size of a hair salon, yet holds as many people as the mom and pop shop across the street with fresh foods lined up across the window, patiently waiting to be seen. Your attention is already drawn though. Papa calls your name like a mother does when it is time for her child to come in from playing outside. You graciously oblige and enter the burnt orange booth, with the door practically opening itself for you as if it welcomes you with both arms inside of the restaurant.

The orange booth holds customers outside for when the main building is stuffed to the brim of people, food, and noises like an overstuffed stocking on Christmas Day. The smells from the inside of the building grab you by the ear and pull you inside. The warmth from the inside of the building grasps your cold body and hugs you tight, like a nice warm cup of soup being received whilst underneath a cozy blanket. The neon sign proudly shines bright against the barely moonlit night. “Papa’s Cache Sabroso. Welcome,” it says. The inside of the building adjusts your eyes from the cold blue of the night to the warm orange of the inside of the building. Tables are filled to the brim with babies, children, teenagers, adults, and seniors. Food so universal that it has been used to unite generations of humans across the table to enjoy two things, which are music and food. The two universal languages which can bypass any barrier that is presented within the universe.

You walk in, taking in the sights, smells, and your stomach growls in anticipation and starting biting you from the inside out as if the smell was enough to make it hungry. You walk up to the cash register and a nice lady with her hair tied up and her hands grasping a notepad and pen gladly states, “Hello!” You ponder for a moment. Suddenly, it comes to you. You ask for the usual, the words so commonly said that she takes them out of your mouth and writes them down before you are even finished communicating them. You pay for your meal and gladly take a seat down on the cold metal chair with a cushion that is as comfortable as grandma’s couch, making you feel like you are at home. You are presented with a can of soda within a matter of minutes. The red and white colors of the can contrast with each other beautifully. “Kola Champagne,” is what it’s called. The name grabs your attention like a small child saying their first word for the first time in front of their parents.

You open the tab and hear the crackle and the pop of the soda, which is sweating intensely with anticipation as if it is waiting for you to drink it. The fizz sizzles down and you take a sip. You are blown away with an overwhelming sweetness that puts even the sweetest candy you’ve ever had in your life in second place. You take small sips as if this were your only glass of water inside of a scorching desert. This is the best can of soda you’ve had, and you’ve yet to even have the main course.

Appetizers roll out. Fried plantains with a garlicky aroma so powerful that it pulls your mouth to it. A small cup of widely proclaimed secret sauce awaits you, and dipping the plantain in the secret sauce allows the sauce to perfectly coat the plantain, absorbing the sauce like a sponge absorbs water. You take a bite. So crisp, so rich. The crunch that's equivalent to a fresh potato chip. It’s so delicate. By the time you finish the plantains, you’d think that you have already had dinner, but the best part has yet to come, and it keeps you on your toes like a child patiently waits for a surprise.

You pick up the smell of the main course before it even comes out, and the sight is enough to make you fall in love. The jibarito, a sandwich that uses plantains as buns, awaits you with its crisp lettuce, juicy meat and tomato, and crunchy onions. The sauce that you have already used for the plantains complements it so perfectly, and you down every single bite with ease. The rice and beans are the cherries on top, with rice so fragrant and beans so flavorful that all you can do is keep shoveling and shoveling it into your mouth like you are digging a hole down to the center of the Earth.

Before you know it, it’s already gone. The jibarito which brought you to Papa’s in the first place, the rice and beans that gladly complimented the jibarito, the plantains which kept you waiting with ease, and the kola champagne which welcomed you. This place is not simply just a restaurant. It is an experience. It is truly the pinnacle of Puerto Rican food within Chicago that brings even the oldest of men and women back to their roots and to the days when they were kids. Papa’s was made to bring people together and to be enjoyed by all. I have taken that experience from when I was a baby and I keep that fond experience with me as a teenager. Papa has grown up with me and when it had to send me off, it cried and it hugged me but it set me free.

Little does Papa know, I’ll be back to visit him soon when he least expects it, and he’ll gladly welcome me back with open arms and bring me back in. Even when I leave, Papa’s Cache Sabroso remains within my heart.