Click here for our story on semifinalist Rob Andreozzi of Pizza Marvin in Providence, and click here for our story on Sherry Pocknett of Sly Fox Den Too in Charlestown, who on March 29 became one of five finalists for the award.
Disclosure: Little Sister is an underwriter of The Public’s Radio.
Little Sister sits cozily at the end of a building at the corner of Hope Street and Rochambeau Avenue – a narrow, brightly decorated shop overlooking a busy intersection. Signs of Chef Milena Pagán’s Puerto Rican heritage can be found throughout, from the menu, to the space, to the music in the background. It’s something she’s proud of. But initially, she wasn’t sure about how it would be received.
“Over time, I think I’ve been able to kind of erode those barriers that people have against trying Puerto Rican food,” Pagán said. “And I’ve been able to find my audience.”
And she has. The menu features staples like quesitos and empanadas, along with ever-changing specials that reflect the chef’s instinct for experimentation. And Pagán is proud to serve Puerto Rican espresso. Today, a wide range of customers come for the island flavor, especially fellow boricuas.
“I get a lot of Puerto Ricans,” she said. “That’s the thing that makes me the happiest.”
Now, Pagán didn’t learn any of this at school. Much of her experience and knowledge of cooking come from her childhood. Like many of us growing up in Puerto Rican households, we all had a mother or grandmother who spent a lot of time cooking.
“I make pasteles the way that I did it with my mom, and she never gave me a recipe,” Pagán said. “She never wrote it down for me, but I have these memories that I’ve stitched together of like, okay, you go to the market, these are the ingredients you get. We’re prepping the pork, this is how you do it. We’re prepping the masa, this is how you do it. It’s only now that it’s hitting me how much I learned through mere osmosis. I just learned it from everybody, like I learned recipes from my grandma, I learned recipes from my sister, I learned recipes from family and friends. All of this is out there if you just kind of want to grab onto it.”
Pagán takes me back into the kitchen. She pulls down a container of medium-sized ñames, a yam-like root vegetable. She’s about to try a new recipe in front of me.
“I’m going to make some alcapurria masa, so it’s going to be mixed with achiote and some spices,” she said. “And then I’m going to make little alcapurria balls, so almost like these fried dumplings.”
Pagán combines the sliced ñames with a blend of oil and spices, and puts it all into a food processor. She then forms the mixture into a ball, which she ladles slowly into the fryer.
“So I’m just deep frying some of these, just kind of scooping the batter into the hot oil,” she said. “It is falling apart a little bit there, so I think I need a different root vegetable. But it might also thicken as it sits.”
The dumplings were an experiment – not something she was ready to add to the menu, though.
“I’m just starting to scratch the surface of sorting out what people are homesick for,” Pagán said.
By this point, the store is closing, and the staff is preparing their lunch. Pagán, her husband and business partner Darcy Coleman, and two other workers are getting ready to sit down to a meal. She serves me a large plate of arroz con gandules – or rice and pigeon peas – with carne frita – like crispy chunks of pork – along with some sweet fried plantains, and a salad. I asked Pagán when and how she learned she was a James Beard semifinalist.
“I was at the Cheesecake Factory,” she said, laughing. “And I’m just sitting there catching up on Instagram, and someone sends me the link and goes, congratulations. I’m like, this wasn’t meant for me. Then I open it. I’m like, oh my God, no – that is actually me.”
“My next thought was just kind of like, well, if they say I’m a chef, then I’m a chef,” Pagán said. “I think I have this impostor syndrome this whole time that, like, I’m not a chef because I’m not in whites, and I didn’t go to school for it, and whatever. But, you know, I think it’s helped me kind of gain confidence that I do know what I’m doing. I’m obviously learning every day, but I bring something really unique to the table. And mostly, I’m proud to be putting Puerto Rican cuisine in an elevated status.”
I asked Pagán how she sees the restaurant evolving, and how she wants to bring more of the Puerto Rican experience to Little Sister.
“I definitely would love to see us become more of like a wine bar at night,” she said. “I’ve started connecting with other Puerto Ricans in the community. And all of a sudden, it’s like, well, ‘I play Spanish guitar,’ ‘I do this,’ you know. So I’m like, okay, how can I get everyone involved in the party where, you know, we’re running a wine bar. There’s someone playing guitar, live music, you know, we’re serving Puerto Rican food. I don’t know, maybe after dinner, everybody gets up and dances.”
“I’m just kind of figuring it out as I go,” Pagán said. “But I always remain curious.”
