Raices Restaurant keeps Puerto Rican flavors flowing in Mesa

Benjamin Diaz moves at a million miles an hour.

A Borinqueño blur in a bright blue shirt and thin mustache, he sails out of the kitchen at a sprinter’s pace, deposits armloads of plates at two tables and rushes back inside to the stove. The sound system swelters with the rhythm of salsa romantica, and for a moment, it looks as though Diaz might be dancing.

He snatches the phone off his hip to take a call, then disappears around the corner in a flash, when a ruckus of splashing and clattering from the dish pit leads me to believe he’s slipped and fallen in. Moments later, perfectly dry, he speeds to the counter to take my order, pausing briefly to put on a smile. And when he opens his mouth to speak, I discover — to my shock — that he still has another gear. I grew up in a family of fast talkers, but I can barely keep up as Diaz rattles off specials and recommendations before dashing back to the kitchen to get my order going.

The life of an independent restaurateur: Everything to do and no time to get it done.

Still, somehow, Diaz keeps Raices Restaurant running. And that’s a good thing, because he’s rescued one of the scant handful of local joints where you can score classic Puerto Rican food in the Valley.

Goodbyes and hellos

My heart broke the day I learned that Millie’s had closed.

Millie’s Café started as a single-table Puerto Rican hole in the wall with top-notch mofongo and a line of displaced Borinqueños looking for takeout.

When they expanded to a full-fledged restaurant space on Baseline Road in Mesa, it was a blessing. But while squeezing six friends around a folding table covered with Styrofoam containers is another day at the office for me, it’s a tough sell for normies who aren’t laser-focused on finding killer food, surroundings be damned.

Alas, it didn’t last.

Millie’s shut down in early 2022 and I’ve pined for a good jibarito ever since.

Turns out, that sultry Puerto Rican sandwich stacked between thick, crispy fried plantains never left the building.

Diaz — who also operates an adorable and delicious Puerto Rican bakery in Arcadia called Sweet Land Cakes — took over the former Millie’s space, expanded the menu, gave it a facelift, and reopened as Raices Restaurant in late 2022, where he’s been serving some very respectable Puerto Rican fare ever since.

Reopened and upgraded

Not to knock the restaurant’s former proprietors, but Diaz has certainly made the place a whole lot more welcoming. He’s ousted the former regime’s church basement aesthetic in favor of sturdy chairs and tables, wood paneling, warm tones, photographic murals of San Juan and enough Puerto Rican flags to festoon a parade float.

A small stage complete with a karaoke rig and conga drums suggests the place is ready to rumba. And Diaz has built in a full bar, so you can take a slug from a frozen piña colada in a hollowed-out pineapple while summoning the courage to sing, if that’s your thing.

Those more inclined to stuff their faces will appreciate Diaz’s expanded menu, which encompasses most of Millie’s items with some notable additions and a case of pastries brought down from Sweet Land Cakes.

It’s a universal truth that more is not necessarily better, and the new menu board has its strengths and weaknesses. But the dishes that are good are very, very good, and while there are things I will continue to miss about Millie’s, Raices Restaurant makes for a welcome replacement.

A fine start

I’m a sucker for the floral scent of a steamed banana leaf, and Diaz’s pasteles deliver.

Tamal-esque concoctions, pasteles are made from masa most often composed of green plantains and yuca or taro root rather than corn, and the pasty, dull brown lumps are currently duking it out with plain oatmeal and creamed chipped beef for the title of World’s Least Photogenic Food. But studded with melting bits of sweet pepper and plenty of pork fat, they bear a kind of slick, luscious, earthy quality that makes them a delightful way to start.

Similarly comforting are the patatas rellenas, racquetball-sized spheres of fried mashed potato, boasting a lightly crisped shell and a tiny bit of seasoned meat at the core. I find myself wishing that payload were a little more substantial, but it’s tough to stay mad with fried potatoes of any stripe.

I’m less enamored with Diaz’s pastelillos de carne. The crispy fried turnovers may be loaded with seasoned ground beef, but the pair I sampled weren’t a significant upgrade over a freezer case and an air fryer.

Pinchos de pollo, however, pack an awful lot of flavor into juicy, grilled chicken thighs, heavy with sazón and an almost comical glug of commercial barbecue sauce. Whether bottled sauce constitutes an acceptable alternative to homemade is a lively debate I’m reluctant to referee, but few will disagree that toasted garlic bread is an essential accompaniment. Diaz makes his with a lightly sweetened pan sobao, a substantial, lardy Puerto Rican bread that he seasons and grills alongside the chicken.

But however you start, this is a Puerto Rican restaurant, so whether you like it or not, you’re here for plantains.

‘Boil ‘em, mash ‘em, stick ‘em in a stew’

If Samwise Gamgee had gotten his hobbity little fingers on plantains, “The Lord of the Rings” would have featured a lot more Puerto Rican food.

Want them soft, sweet and smooshy? Order the pastelón.

“Puerto Rican lasagna” comparisons are a little tired. Pastelón is a layered dish with seasoned meat, probably cheese and maybe some tomato depending on who’s making it, but that’s where the similarities end.

Diaz’s version is a little freeform — thrown together and cooked under the salamander to order, one might presume. Thick slabs of sweet plantain mingle with ground beef cooked in a cinnamon-scented sofrito, all bound together with a none-too-subtle amount of melted cheddar cheese. The composition is a little haphazard, but the flavors hit big and its ooey-gooey homestyle credentials are bona fide.

Want your plantains mashed and garlicky? Get some mofongo.

Beneath a large Puerto Rican flag in the dining room sits a three-foot-tall pilón, a giant mortar and pestle made for pounding out mofongo. It isn’t window dressing. Three more just like it line a wall in the kitchen. Diaz pulverizes the plantains with pork, oil, herbs and an abundance of garlic. Put away a serving and your breath can wilt flowers at ten paces — exactly as it should be.

My favorite mofongo partner at Raices is the carne frita — substantial chunks of mojo-marinated pork deep fried to a sizzling crisp. Some of the leaner bits are a little too close to jerky, but the flavor comes through.

How about stewed plantains?

If it’s a Saturday or Sunday, you can bet Diaz will be pimping the sancocho. Raices offers a solid chicken soup loaded with supple linguine daily, but Diaz saves the sancocho for the weekends. A garlicky, herbal broth is loaded with tender chunks of beef and hearty vegetables like carrots, taro root and big hunks of starchy, stewed plantains.

Thin and crispy plantains? Check.

The ensalada de camaron is serviceable, if a little perfunctory, treated with vinegar and oil and not much else. But it comes with some excellent tostones — green plantains smashed into flat discs and fried until chewy and crisp.

Where the tostones really shine, however, is when they’re anchoring my beloved jibarito.

Killer sandwiches

Diaz’s sandwiches — many of the same he’s long offered at Sweet Land Cakes — are arguably the stars of the menu. The jibarito is their king.

Oddly enough, it may or may not even be Puerto Rican.

Juan Figueroa of Borinquen Restaurant in Chicago lays claim to the jibarito’s invention, circa 1996. He cops to having once read about a similar sandwich in a Puerto Rican newspaper, but after Figueroa’s version became a regional phenomenon, journalists and researchers were unable to track down a definitive precursor on the island.

The jibarito’s finer points may vary from place to place, but Diaz’s rendition checks all of the essential boxes. It starts with a pile of succulent pernil — roasted pork shoulder marinated with citrus and herbs. He adds shredded lettuce, sliced tomato and onion and a healthy swipe of garlicky mayonnaise.

The kicker, though, is that in place of bread, a jibarito is built with thick slabs of crispy fried plantains. Juicy, tender meat meets crisp, cool vegetables, the plantains lend crunch and a light, fruity lift and rich mayonnaise with the pungent pop of garlic puts it over the top.

This is not a sandwich to be trifled with. And it’s in good company.

The pavo, Cubano and tripleta — pick your meats — are all dynamite pressed sandwiches. The tripleta includes turkey, roasted pork and ham layered with cheese in Diaz’s pan sobao, pressed until thin, dense and crisp. And don’t get hung up on whether the Cubano is Miami-style or Tampa-style or whatever. It’s its own style, and it’s delicious. Let’s leave it at that.

I’m also a sucker for the mayorca, a cheesy ham and egg sandwich on thick, fluffy bread. It’s dusted with powdered sugar and almost plays like a cousin to a Monte Cristo, sweet and savory and oozing with golden egg yolk.

Plenty of pork

Meanwhile, the parade of meat and starch keeps on coming.

Chuletas, or seasoned pork chops, turn out much better than I’d have guessed. Cooked to a deep mahogany brown, you’d think they’d be reduced to shoe leather, but they maintain a nice, tender bite and plenty of juicy fat. And the soupy beans they arrive with — spicy and rich with a deep, developed flavor — will melt any Sonoran cowpoke’s heart.

You wouldn’t be out of line to dip the chuletas in a bit of mayoketchup. Here’s a zippy pink sauce that’s practically ubiquitous in Puerto Rico, and you’ll never guess what the two main ingredients are.

Dad jokes aside, mayoketchup is more than a bare-bones frankencondiment. The base is exactly what you expect, but it’s also loaded with a healthy shot of acid, like vinegar or citrus, and in true Puerto Rican fashion, plenty of garlic.

For other dishes, you might prefer a splash of pique — a hot, chile-infused vinegar seasoned with garlic and oregano. It’s the perfect way to perk up lechon a la vara, another weekend special. Diaz roasts a whole sucking pig and serves up its tender, shredded meat along with thick, crunchy slabs of roasted skin. A splash of spicy vinegar plays perfectly off the piglet’s fatty richness.

Sweet and simple

If there’s room, Diaz serves plenty of humble, no-frills desserts.

Tornillos are tornado-shaped sheets of crisp puff pastry wrapped around a custardy cream core, while pastelillos de guava layer the same pastry with a sticky sweet tropical paste. The texture of the bread pudding is a little homogenous, but the cream cheese flan is simple and satisfying.

Diaz’s quesitos feel like the right way to finish a meal at Raices. Puff pastry surrounds a lightly sweetened cream cheese filling before it’s brushed with a sugary egg wash and baked until caramelized. Diaz serves them hot and crispy and a little bit sticky.

You might need a couple for the road. Just flag down Diaz as he goes speeding by.

Raices Restaurant

1916 W. Baseline Road, Mesa
raicesrestaurantecoffeebar.com
10 a.m.-8 p.m. every day
Starters $4-$7.50; Sandwiches $7-$14; Mains $10-$20; Desserts $2-$5.