Eat, Drink and Be Merry in Old San Juan!

We usually eat in at our host's place whenever we couchsurf but Ali lived in a small apartment with the tiniest kitchen and being a bachelor, never cooked. But it didn't matter because San Juan had an abundance of cheap, good, local fare for us to sample, all we needed to know was where to look.

There are a few local secrets that could easily have been missed without the help of Ali. We tried to give the tourist traps and the expensive crap a miss and for the most part we succeeded. But we did get sucked in a couple of times; once at a place we just went into for two coffees and came out with an empty pocket and another time, by our own accord, when we happened upon a Ben and Jerry's - and we just couldn't resist going in. The best places, of course, were the local hangouts, and by far the cheapest -unbelievably so. You won't get fine dining or five-star service at these establishments but you will get a cozy atmosphere, a friendly attitude and delicious home-style fare.

And then there's the liquor; alcoholism could become rife in these parts. The home of rum, it is the drink of choice, cheap as chips, and the crystal and brown liquids flow like a kid down a waterslide. 

Here are the places we patronised during our stay:

Fatties: 102 O'Donnel St (between Sol and Luna Streets)

Eating at Fatties is like eating at your Puerto Rican cousins mama's house - in her cozy little kitchen. This hole-in-the-wall restaurant is only big enough to hold four tightly squeezed-in tables. Only a small sign on the door acknowledges its presence; there's no reservations, and at lunch, no menues either. Come for lunch and pull up a plastic chair, if there's one left. There's no being shy here, sit anywhere there's a chair. Luckily though, on the day we visited we were able to snag a table to ourselves. It's quite hot inside, the only relief coming from a wall-mounted fan. The decor is minimal save for a Bob Marley picture, a Jamaican flag, and a few odd bits and pieces. We did notice a photocopy of a write-up by Fodor's Travel Guide stuck to the wall which assured us we were in good hands. Reggae music pulsed through a boom box, and a telenovela (Spanish soap opera) flashed across a small TV. There was a unpretentious energy about the place.
 

The two women running the show were plump Jamiacan-Puerto Rican ladies, and they advertised a fusion of Caribbean soul food. We had the choice between two dishes, pork or chicken, straight-up (this is not the city for vegetarians). I made the big mistake of coming not so hungry and instead watched Chase devour his dish of pork chops, beans and rice with a delicious thin (but presumably fatty) sauce. Chase was kind enough to give me a bite or two before it was all gone.

We came back for dinner the next night so I could get my fill of Fatties too. We came early and there was no one there and we were surprised to be received with a real menu this time. Spoilt for choice we didn't know what to have but the young Jamaican lady gave us some great tips. She introduced herself as Shona, after Chase made a faux pas by calling her 'Ma'am'. She obviously didn't like that, but she was refresingly sincere and straight-forward, and there were no hard feelings. Chase chose the jerk chicken while I went out on a limb with the fried snapper for around $12 each. All dishes were served with rice, beans, green salad, and fried plantains.

The realisation that we weren't in a traditional restaurant then came back when she said the jerk chicken would take about a half an hour to prepare and that we could go for a wander and come back if we liked. It was great to know it was fresh on the spot, and it also gave us an opportunit to try the bar El Farolito down the road (see below). We came back livelier than ever and tucked into another delicious meal. The picture of Chase, above, says it all. 

El Batey: 101 Calle de Cristo (near El Convento)

It really is Batty! Actually, 'batey' was a strange Spanish word to figure out. It means something along the lines of 'forecourt' or is a term used for where the sugar worker's lived during plantation days. So I just decided to defer to my English example above.

We walked passed this dive bar, dimly lit with bars on the windows, and of course Chase wanted to go in and have a drink, because, as he said, "it looked 'local'". Yes, it did look local, which was precisely the reason I didn't want to go in. In Australia, it can be unwise to walk into a local's haunt - particularly when it's surrounded by cheesy tourists. But it was a great, grungy spot and the locals weren't too scary, they were at least expats. There's writing and graffiti all over the walls from head to toe, no spot untouched, and business cards hang precariously from the dingy lamp shades lining the bar. There was even a pool table, but it was occupied, and we just wanted a drink anyway.

Medalla is the local beer of choice here, (ie. cheap), and for the ladies, cocktails, of course! Forget $12-15 on one of these bad-boys, they're cheap and free-flowing around here. I went for a standard margarita (yet to get into my rum phase), and it was tasty, strong, and in this tropical climate, extremely refreshing! Ater tip and tax we still came out with change from $10! Great location too, ironically, it's just down the road from the San Juan Cathedral and El Convento Hotel!

Cafe Mallorca: 300 Calle San Francisco (opp. Plaza de la Barandilla)

This photo of Cafe Mallorca is courtesy of TripAdvisor

Step into Cafe Mallorca and you've stepped back in time - to the 60s! And the guy that serves you has been there since the 60s too. Well, not quite that long, but since big hair and shoulder pads were in style. This place is an institution, a diner like you can only dream about now, and it's a great place to grab breakfast away from the tourist crowd. It's sister to La Bonbonera, the same but more famous diner, now tainted with tourists spilling out it's doors. 

Pull up a stool at the counter and watch the old boys, dressed in smart little black waiter's jackets and matching cap, put together a meal you won't forget. Chase and Ali got the house speciality, the mallorca with ham and cheese. A mallorca is a semi-sweet, egg-based bun which originates from none other than Malloca, Spain. At this point it sounds delicious, especially with the mandatory thick layer of powdered sugar that covers the bun like snow on the top of Everest. But I'm not one for mixing sweet and savoury in such a blatant manner, and once you add the melted butter, cheese and ham, I have to opt out. I took to the front window instead, unable to make up my mind from the selection of delicious pastries that filled it's large frame. Powdered sugar flows like a blizzard within these walls, covering almost every dish, and anything that isn't can happily be righted. My pastry was good, but I should have gotten the sweet cheese one istead. Chase and Ali's sandwhich was slapped together with precise speed and presented to them open faced - with tonnes of sugar. The coffee comes "con leche" (with milk), which American's remark about because in the States it is usually black, but for me this was familiar and welcoming. Did I mention it was also dirt cheap?

El Farolito: 277 Calle de Sol, Old San Juan (across from El Jibarito)

This is by far the smallest bar I've ever seen and may just be the smallest bar in the world! Ali pointed this out one night when we were walking passed and if I didn't know what it was I would have surely missed it. It looked just like it was someone's door-step where people were hanging out, having some fun and listening to some music. We walked passed a number of times and vowed to go in but it was always packed (not hard) with people spilling out onto the street.

We finally got out our chance the night we were waiting for Auntie Fattie to cook our meal. It was quite early so it was a good time to go to get a seat. There was only one guy there besides the bartender. It looked like a great place you'd want to tend bar at, chatting one-on-one with your customers, mixing a few drinks, and there was even a chess board on the bar - maybe you could play the barman for a free drink! There was enough room for only 6 stools around the tiny bar, a tiny table squeezed in the front and a table in the dim back. A big bright mural on the wall lightened the place up and local artworks were on display. It was the coolest bar and how bars should be; quaint and intimate.

El Farolita means 'The Lantern' in Spanish.

La Fonda Del Jibarito: 280 calle de sol

Usually just called El Jibarito, this is another no-fuss, low-cost, traditional eatery along the lines of Fatties, but more of what you'd call a 'restaurant'. La Fonda means 'The Inn' and I believe El Jibarito means 'hillbilly' in Puerto Rican slang. They serve traditional "criolla" (Creole) food in a dining hall type atmosphere. Abundant chatter rises to the lofty ceilings surrounded by colourful decor drowned in Puerto Rican kitsch (though I liked the mock Old San Juan building facades lining the far wall). The staff were helpful explaining the menu to us. I went for the roast beef which was delicious, while chase got the very traditional pasteles (similar to a Tamale). We both got side orders of rice and beans, though I'd come to find out a popular choice is the Mofongo (a mound of mashed plaintains). In what was becoming true Puerto Rican fashion, the menu was presented hand-written and photocopied.

Ben & Jerry's: 61 Calle del Cristo (a block up from El Batey)

So not at all Puerto Rican but an eccentric American Ice-cream brand started in the late 70s. Built around an alternate style of living, their ice-cream flavours contain funky names like Chubby Hubby and Imagine Whirled Peace, and they are also actively involved in good causes.

After hanging out with our American friends Tom and Amy I'd been converted. Ben and Jerry's ice-cream is pretty darn tasty - and their marketing is very effective. I do remember a Ben and Jerry's store in Atlanta that we'd pass by often when we lived there, but at the time I was more of a Cold Stone ice-creamery kinda gal. This wasn't the most traditional place to try it, but I decided to hop over the threshold into the world of B&J's for my premier experience. We were also hungry and it was the closest thing we could see that we knew wouldn't cost a fortune (see the coffee episode below). The food was so-so (American-ish sandwiches of course), the decor exotic, but the ice-cream did not disappoint.

Al Dente: Calle Recinto Sur 309 (the expensive side of town)

Ok, I'm sure this restaurant is superb, extremely classy and the best Italian food in San Jaun. While there's nothing wrong with these type of places, they're not for our budget. Sporting a couple of chefs hats, that should've been our cue to run for the hills. But we wanted to have a coffee and didn't want to trudge the extra mile to our special place by the ferry terminal. I wanted to strive to get back there but Chase thought it'd be a good idea to venture out and try something new. Big Mistake.

It turned out to be the most expensive coffee EVER! Sure, it was huge, as big a a soup mug, and took as long as simmering a soup to make; it was an incredible piece of engineering. But it was NOT worth $6 a piece! Chase got the bill and kept a poker face in front of the waiter. I am always nervous at this point, I like to know my prices straight up before I order anything, but without a hint of revelation in Chase's expression I breathed a sigh of relief. However, as soon as the waiter left Chase let loose (I didn't know Chase's poker face was so good!).

We were stupefied. The blow was even more brutal now we were accustomed to Puerto Rican prices. And the coffee wasn't that good either. And, if I'd have known it was going to cost me as much as a decent Puerto Rican meal I would've finished the whole thing till I puked.