By Kimberly Kaye
To some, it would seem that fate had set out to prevent me from eating the breathtakingly good, soulful cuisine slung at Hoboken’s Cuban masterwork, La Isla.
It was fate that had sent Hurricane Ernesto two weeks earlier to force my ever-present dining partner, Ramon, and I off the road en route to La Isla with flooding and a flourish of fallen tree branches.
And it was fate that again thwarted our journey the following weekend with an even greater and more sinister obstacle – recreational men’s-league softball.
But it is now, basking in the post-coital glow of a lazy afternoon feasting on warm empanadas and piles of savory rice, that I see the wisdom of the fates, and their love for me.
The morning of our third attempt dawned brilliantly sunny and warm, the Garden State Parkway and all its offshoots were free of traffic or obstacles, and we had in our possession Ozomatli’s phenomenal Latin/Hip-hop fusion album, which we played at very loud volumes the entire way there.
We even found parking directly across the street. Fate had, apparently, only wanted the voyage to be flawless, for all variables to come together and create an immaculate cultural dining experience for my enlightenment – patience, it seems, is a virtue.
Either that, or we got lucky.
I wax poetic about the meal as an event, rather than just some “good food,” because sometimes, every so often, all contributing factors come together to create an experience that transcends simple “lunch” or “dinner;” it is a rare, warm fuzzy feeling, a fleeting satisfaction with one’s entire life as a result of a single meal.
This feeling is the foundation of comfort food as an institution, and keeps us coming back to familiar dishes over and over, like drug addicts seeking a high. Well, attention addicts: meet your new dealer.
Nestled on picturesque Washington Street amidst countless eateries and boutique spaces, the tiny La Isla could easily blend into the background and be passed right by. A green, weather-worn awning almost discreetly announces the name of the establishment in faded yellow, and a single palm tree stands near-by – not exactly the “HELLO, I’M CHIC AND YOU SHOULD EAT HERE” display that dining patrons of the area are used to.
This humble presentation is part of La Isla’s charm, and coincides with the entire vibe the restaurant gives off. The place almost seems embarrassed to display its Zagat stamp of approval, posting only the maroon “Zagat Rated” sign visibly and not the accompanying scores, which are among the highest for food in both New Jersey and New York. But the line out the door should grab your attention.
Half classic greasy-spoon, half informal Latino luncheonette, the small interior has a cozy familiarity that will make patrons of all cultures feel at home.
Through the single door lies a worn, diner-style counter with spinning chrome seats and a handful of tables pressed against the opposite wall. To your immediate left is an old-school dessert display showcasing homemade flan and fresh fruits; at the far end is the timeless window to the kitchen, a small square through which fragrant plates piled high are relentlessly passed from chef to staff. Retro accents like plastic flowers and pastel paint jobs are everywhere, and Latin music sets the tempo – during our meal, it was a Spanish language cover-album of Beatles classics.
And then there’s the food. Oh, the food.
While there are plenty of satisfying fusion items on the menu (roasted piquillo peppers filled with octopus salad and avocado puree, pistachio encrusted halibut over bok choy with mussels in coconut sauce), we really put our energy into consuming as much traditional Cuban fare as we could stand.
As the first plates of empanadas, moro (black beans and rice), fried plantains, and arroz con pollo (chicken with yellow rice and sweet plantain) arrived steaming before us, I looked to Ramon for his verdict.
While not Cuban, Ramon is 100% Puerto Rican, the offspring of a family fresh off the island itself; his exposure to Latino cuisine and seasonings greatly trumps that of my Irish/Scottish background. Ramon is our expert on this front. And he takes rice very seriously.
The refined, expert comment upon first bite? “God DAMN, I feel like I’m sittin’ in abuela’s kitchen!”
I’ve eaten in abuela’s kitchen – there is no better endorsement than this.
And it’s not just the rice. Everything we put in our mouths held up the same standard of excellence, making La Isla’s one of the most consistent and satisfying meals I’ve had in recent memory.
The empanadas (both beef and chicken) were warm and savory; tamal en hoja (steamed pork and polenta wrapped in corn husk and served with roasted corn salsa) brought a new appreciation of humble cornmeal; sides like black beans and fried plantains were flawless by traditional and contemporary standards.
We both ordered one of the daily specials, one hearty and delicious ropa vieja (shredded flank steak) and the aforementioned tender (and excellent) arroz con pollo. And you simply cannot experience Cuban food without trying the obligatory media noche, the famed “Cubano” sandwich of warm pork, ham, swiss, and garlic mojo on sweet bread. Here, the garlic mojo is as addictive as any available street drug – I weep at the thought of returning to Hellmann’s ever again.
La Isla offers a wide variety of “milkshakes,” fresh tropical fruits like mango and coconut blended with milk or just ice – order one. It adds to the experience. And though the portions are more than ample (we ate our leftovers for the next 36 hours straight), save room for dessert. A café con leche should absolutely be experienced by any coffee drinker, and the flan, cool and creamy in traditional or coconut-caramel-crème, again drew Spanish expletives from my dining partner.
But the real “must have” from the bakery case is the empanada de guayaba y queso (a warm guava and cream cheese turnover). Simple, sweet, savory, and breathtakingly good, I will obsess upon this glorious coronary-on-a-plate nightly until the day another passes through my lusty lips.
Cuban-American Chef Omar Giner, formerly of NYC’s Russian Tea Room, has easily navigated the pitfalls of trying to make everyone happy. Combining classic and authentic cuisine and Nuevo-Latino fusion on one menu could have easily lost the Cuban comfort food feel that drew La Isla’s original, pre-Giner crowd. Instead, we have found a kitchen that can sling both classic Cuban comfort food and Nuevo-Latino fare that is truly (and lovingly) rooted in authentic and traditional preparation, rather than contemporary staples gussied-up with a few haphazard “exotic” ingredients. This love, this respect for the food itself, fills La Isla to capacity on a daily basis, and must be tasted first-hand to truly comprehend.
Not every day will dawn sunny and bright. Not every afternoon will be blessed with empty roads and easy parking. But nearly everyday that dawns a bit bleaker than our flawless Saturday can be treated, if not cured, by the food at La Isla. And next time, I may be willing to drive through the hurricane just to get a spot at the counter.
La Isla, 104 Washington Street, Hoboken
201.659.8197
On the Web
Damn girl, I knew you were my idol for a reason. Your ease and mastery with the English Language is your greatest gift... can I have it?
love you lady!
me
Posted by: Laura | 10/12/2006 at 02:48 PM
i'm suffering in england without caribbean food! i will dream of la isla tonight...
Posted by: gillian | 11/02/2006 at 02:09 PM