Rafe’s mother peered around his shoulder, taking in our dressy clothes. Her face softened just a little. She offered her hand. “It is so nice to meet you, Bella. And Rafael! Why do you not have water glasses? And extra plates, if you’re going to share?”
“That would be a question for Flori, I think.”
But Rafe’s mom had already turned on her heel, running off presumably to get them.
Rafe rubbed his hands together. “Food, at last! Okay. The dish in front of you is called La Bandera.”
“That just means ‘flag,’ right?” I couldn’t resist showing off that I knew a Spanish word.
“Exactly. It’s supposed to look like the colors of the flag. But every Dominican kid is like, ‘What the hell?’ Rice is white. Fine. And the sauce on the meat is reddish. But beans aren’t blue. It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
I picked up my fork and popped a flake of the stewed pork into my mouth. “It’s really good, though. I don’t think it would be better if it were actually blue.”
“This is mofongo.” He pointed at the weirdest looking thing on the table. “Mashed plantains, fried, with a meat sauce on top. But they’re even better like this.” He pointed at gorgeously crispy pieces of plantain on another plate.
“What’s that?” I asked, aiming my fork at another fried thing. It was square, about the size of a playing card. And when I sank my fork into the corner, it squished.
“Fried cheese. Another health food. The only lighter thing is this bulgur salad.” He picked up the bowl and showed me the contents. On top of the grains sat tomatoes, avocados and parsley, with a few grilled shrimp on top.
A clean plate landed on the table in front of me. In a blur of motion, Rafe’s mother tucked a serving spoon on to each of our dishes. Then she set a glass of water down in front of me. “Enjoy!” she said before stomping off.
“Your mother is a whirlwind,” I said.
Rafe grinned at me as he scooped food onto his plate. “The kitchen boys call her la tormenta. The storm.”
“Are you going to be in the doghouse for coming in here tonight?”
Rafe looked surprised. “Not a chance. They’d like to have me working in back. But they’d rather I show my face than stay away. We bitch at each other a lot, I guess. That’s just how we talk.” He ate a piece of plantain with a thoughtful expression on his face. “You know, coming back here after I’ve been away for a while, this place looks shabby to me. I want to give it a facelift. I tried to say that this summer and the uncles didn’t want to hear it.”
“It’s comfortable, though,” I supplied. “Not every restaurant needs to be fancy.”
“I know. But I think we could update it a little, then raise the menu prices about thirty percent. But they’re afraid to change anything.”
“My dad is the opposite. There’s no building in New York that he’s afraid to bulldoze. If people actually knew what he looked like, he’d need a bodyguard in certain neighborhoods.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I don’t mean that he’s knocking down historical treasures or anything. But most people are resistant to change. That’s normal.”
“I don’t know if ‘normal’ and ‘mi familia’ belong together in the same sentence.” He stabbed a bite of mofongo with his fork.
“Mmm,” I said, stuffing my face. The food was incredibly good. The stewed meats were tender and flavorful; the rice was fluffy. “You’re going to have to roll me out of here after this.”
A skinny teenage boy was shuffling toward us, wiping his hands on a chef’s apron. “Hola, primo.” He put a hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “You know Flori is in the kitchen, texting all her sisters that you’re here with your girlfriend.” The boy smiled, and his eyes crinkled up in the corners. “I tell her that your girlfriend’s name is Alison, but she say maybe you have more than one.”
“Well, that’s me,” Rafe said, putting his fork down. “The Don Juan of Harkness College.”
“Wherever Rafe goes,” I teased, “the girls follow in little packs, hoping he’ll notice them. I had to follow him all the way to Manhattan just to get this close.”
The boy laughed, and Rafe rolled his eyes. Kidding aside, Rafe probably could have girls hanging off of him if he wanted it that way.
Rafe’s mother snuck up behind the kid and asked him a pointed question in Spanish. With a sigh, he headed back into the kitchen.