An Ode to Plantains

David Márquez Gil
Nov 3 · 3 min read
My first failed attempt at making tajadas (fried plantains) still yielded delicious results.
My first failed attempt at making tajadas (fried plantains) still yielded delicious results.
My first attempt at fried plantain more or less failed, yet it was still delicious.

I was once asked if I could eat my way out of an igloo what would that igloo be made out of? From the moment of my birth the answer had been determined by both nature and nurture. No substance is more palatable to my taste buds than plantains, specifically tajadas, the vernacular term I utilize for fried plantain. Imagine the horror I felt when I moved to the northern United States and realized that most people around me had not tried plantains and ate these things called potatoes instead.

It did not take me long to realize that plantains played a similar role for me, someone who did not punch up north of the Tropic of Cancer for a while, as potatoes did for the people of the lands up north. When potatoes were pitched to me as something you could bake, fry, roast, steam, mash, or make into chips, I found it less impressive than those who were explaining this to me expected. This was because of a simple fact: you can do all of that with plantains as well, and it comes packaged with a better taste.

Granted, this difference in habitus is no one’s fault. Good plantains do not arrive that far up north. In order to cook a plantain how I like it this far up north I have to let these unacceptably green plantains rest at a windowsill for a whole month until they are almost fully black and gnats have laid a prolonged siege to the outer shell. For those who are not aware of the purpose of this: ripe plantains are sweet, while green plantains are usually salted in order to make patacones (chips).

This spectrum of tastes combined with an array of cooking options make them my meal of choice when I need fresh carbohydrates to energize me. Do I want breakfast? I’ll boil them and put some butter and cheese on top creating plátano sancochado. Do I want a side dish? I’ll fry some nicely riped plantains, adding tajadas to any meal my heart desires. What about dinner? Bake a plantain and open it in the middle to then add some pico de gallo and cheese to spice it up a little bit. And snacks? Plantain chips, be they sweet or salty, are your greatest ally.

Hybridity may become more evident within the dishes I cook, with fried plantains now being a side to things previously foreign to my apartment such as corned beef hash or gumbo. That also implies that, in some ways, plantains are not the same. Perhaps they were not cooked by my mother, or perhaps they were not bought from a stand in the corner operated by a nice lady who, despite working for hours, still delivers my fried plantain with a genuine smile. My purchases of plantains now count towards GDP, and it reminds me of the free-falling GDP of Venezuela, which has fallen into irrelevancy when it once was a proud exporter of plantain, among many other exports. It reminds me of the difficulties of transporting plantains through the roads in the Colombian Andes, how the fully stocked markets are truly a marvel of our times. I cannot help but remember the people in Chiapas, México, who would ask us to please purchase their plantains for 5 pesos (which back then was equivalent to a third of a US dollar), and the smile on their faces when I took ten plantains because who would turn down such a deal?

Plantains may be the most delicious food in the world, but they are also a fundamental part of the way I make meaning. Within the fruit of those palm looking trees lay love, nostalgia, and patience accompanied by frustration and pain. There is love to be found in heat of Maracaibo, the streets of Quito, and the jungle of Chiapas, because, despite the frustrations and pains of politics, crime, and life, I will still be able to go to the corner and ask a nice stranger if I could please have some of those tajadas they’ve made. Nothing else matters for a couple of minutes other than the fruit that has brought many of us together, and that is when I know that no matter what happens, love will prevail.

Written by

Distribuyo freskolita y plátano hasta que caiga el chavismo.

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