I root for the underdog. <br />It’s not because I’m one of those old guys who gets all misty-eyed every time Rudy throws the ball extra far and some lame VHS soundtrack swells in the background; if I really wanna get sad I’ll just tromp on down to the frozen food section at my local whatever-mart. <br />No, I root for the lesser-known stuff because the mostly-known gets boring. That doesn’t mean there’s nothing good or wonderful about getting some really tasty, familiar food. There’s a place in the darker parts of this country (read: Florida) that has a Cuban sandwich I would commit a multitude of crimes for. And I’d do it every. Single. Time. It’s that good. <br />It’s also repetitive. <br />You can get good flavor nearly anywhere, but getting the spark? The “holy cow, what is that?” as a side dish to a quality main course? That’s rare, friends. That’s something you only get from being slapped in the face with some food you’ve never, ever heard of before. <br />I’m giving you that food this week, and it’s called Haitian food. <br />I’ve heard people rant and rave and spit over Colombian food, Puerto Rican, Cuban, Brazilian, Mexican, every damn type of food you can get with a tilde over the name except for Haitian, and that’s a complete crime. And the reason’s simple: that other stuff has been done to death. It’s still tasty, but it’s been iterated, iterated, and reiterated until it’s been turned into a five dollar special at Applebee’s. <br />Sure it’s a shame nobody’s tasted the goodness that is Haitian food, but that comes with a nice double-edged sword effect: the stuff is pure. Untouched. There’s no Haitian-Style Goat Nibblers clogging up the chain restaurants, and that’s a good thing. Eat up the stuff; just don’t put it through the copyright wringer over at Strip Mall Menus Incorporated and we can all get along. <br />

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