Sweetwater isn’t known for its fine cuisine. Its staple dessert is churros from the back of a truck that hasn’t run since the Bay of Pigs invasion. Even so, you can find some gems in the rough. Those gems are cubic zirconia, but I digress.
Fritanga sounds like Spanglish for “free thong.”
I’m not averse to visiting little holes in the wall to get my eats. That day I was specifically craving fritanga, mostly because I had never tried it before and I have a friend who would use the word as an exclamation for some reason. Fritanga sounds like Spanglish for “free thong.” I figured there could be no harm in expanding my tastes. I’m all, “let’s do this, let’s get some fritanga all up in this bitch!”
When I arrived I saw a sticker on the door that read, “People Love Us On Yelp!” and thought that was cute, and a little strange since none of the employees speak English. It’s kinda like those people that get tattoos of shit written in Traditional Chinese script thinking, “bro, this means ‘strength’” when it really means “stupid white person.” I was with my little sister, and once seated we high five and take a look at the menu. Now, I expected “fritanga” to be a specific dish, but that’s when I discovered it’s just a general name for fucking Nica food! It’s like saying “hearty meal”; it’s not a plate.
So I told the lady to bring me the most Nicaraguan shit they serve. I said it that way verbatim in Spanish and she cracked a smile. When the food arrived, what did I find? Rice, plantains, and a skinny-ass steak.
I expected some wicked new shit…
How is this different from every other Hispanic country with a border touching the Caribbean?! I expected some wicked new shit if it’s food that earns its own title, but it’s like being in a much less noisy Cuban restaurant. However, as expected from the third world, it was delicious. With each bite I savored the sweet taste of Nicaraguan independence and also the fall of the Sandinistas. It’s at that point where I knew Nicaraguans could do three things right: emigrate to the United States, take being called “tira flecha” in stride, and cook delicious peasant food. It’s kinda like being Dominican, except instead of being called “tira flecha” they’ll get called “shortstop.”
As for desserts, like most places they had desserts they didn’t invent. The typical tres leches and flan were on the menu. I had flan, it was terrible. Some places just don’t know how to make it right. It’s like tiramisu in Italian restaurants, or crème brûlée in French, or a Crunch bar thrown on top of ice cream, fudge, brownie, peanuts, whip cream, and heavy doses of insulin in American.
If you don’t mind making your way to shitty little places in geographical locations you probably have no business being in, like that time I tried finding good jerk chicken, try this place out.