El Puro Cuban Restaurant

Listen… I got a spray tan for this.

I figured if I was gonna blend in with the beautiful Cuban crowd at El Puro, I needed at least a light bronzing. But who was I kidding? My dancing looked like a baby moose on an icy sidewalk, and I’m pretty sure someone’s abuela whispered a prayer for me. Still—I was living the dream.

When the live music starts, this place turns into something magical. I don’t know what the band was playing, but my feet were moving, my hips were lying (a lot), and I swear I caught myself shouting “¡Azúcar!” at one point. I thought it meant “awesome,” but turns out it means sugar. Which also fits.

The food? INSANE. I don’t know what mojo sauce is, but I want to bathe in it. Plantains? Yes. Croquetas? Give me twelve. I ordered so much I had to loosen my belt and unbutton my shirt a little. No regrets. I may not be a smart man, but I know what delicious is.

Honestly, I’m now afraid to visit actual Cuba, because there’s just no way it lives up to this. El Puro ruined Cuban tourism for me in the best way possible. I’ll be back. With a fresh tan. And maybe Spanx.