After so many years of living and now visiting my home island, you wonder when you'll bump into a local version of seared ahi tuna and Caesar salad. Well, the time finally has arrived.
We've seen the same thing in K's hometown of Bethlehem, Pa.: People flee to the big city and sweat it out in the kitchens, working their way up until they say, "Hey, maybe we should try this at home." Granted, Aguadilla and Isabela, P.R. are a lot farther than Bethlehem to Bouley and the Flatiron district, but you get the idea. When people tire of Moravian sugar cakes and apple butter, they want Alice Waters' stuff.
Restaurant 18'67" (check your GPS) is cut from the same cloth. K and I did split a Caesar to start, and then I was reminded of my dad's favorite saying: You're still in Puerto Rico. I asked for cracked pepper, and the waitress spaced it out and went back to her station to add up some tabs. I flagged the other server on the floor, who brought a pepper shaker from another table, because no, they didn't have a spice mill for the salad. Why am I not surprised?
The wife changed the pace from the rice and beans with linguine with pesto and beurre blanc. Beurre blanc! I had braised pork loin stuffed with chorizo sausage in guava sauce, along with rice and beans. (I don't see a reason to change the pace. The pork was tender, the guava not too sweet and pink beans as good here as they are everywhere else, including Vangy's.) It was a Tuesday, which means it's two entrees for $20 -- a steal. No wonder it's crowded with surfers and gringo ex-pats.
The place is funny: Looks like they took over some retail space, complete with the track lighting and acoustic tile, next to a Chinese restaurant. They put a kitchen in back and a cut a door for an adjacent bar. The manager (could be the owner) wears a newsboy's cap. Pool games were 50 cents and there were drunk barflies on both nights we visited. I think I heard some Nirvana. I thought of my favorite chiperos, Alex and Elbo.
