A Dominican Culinary Journey
Boca Chica at dusk
A Month in the Dominican Republic: My Island Life in Full Flavor
Mornings in Santo Domingo start with energy.
Street vendors calling out “¡aguacate, plátano, piña dulce!” from their carts, and the rich aroma of strong coffee making its way through the house. At my place, it smells like guava from the tree out back. There’s also naranja agria, soursop,breadfruit, golden apples,—all growing like it’s no big deal. But it is a big deal. That kind of everyday abundance sets the tone.
Home
I’d sit on the terrace with my cafecito and pan de agua stacked with perfectly ripe avocado—because in DR, bad aguacates just don’t exist. Some days, I’d go all in on los tres golpes—fried salami, queso frito, eggs, and buttery mangu topped with pickled red onions—paired with fresh passionfruit juice and the kind of Caribbean breeze that makes you forget what rush feels like.
This trip wasn’t about getting away. It was about getting back to something real. I stayed in my home in the capital, spent time with family, and let the island pull me back into rhythm. Slow mornings. Loud afternoons. Full plates. Open doors.
Dominican Chocolate & Pan de Agua
Cinnamon, clove, allspice, ginger — slow-steeped into rich Dominican cacao. Deep, spiced, and just the right amount of warmth. Best with fresh pan de agua to dip.
Lunch Starts Before Breakfast Ends
By mid-morning, we were already planning lunch—usually la bandera: Carne guisada, arroz,habichuela, and a crisp little salad on the side. We’d pick up fresh cuts from our family butcher a few blocks over, then call the colmado to drop off cold beer for later in the day. Neighbors would pass by with plates to share—whatever they were making that day.
Kids played outside, chasing balls instead of scrolling. The vibe was old-school in the best way. Community wasn’t a concept—it was just how things were.
Carne guisada, arroz blanco, habichuela roja, ensalada verde
The Colmado Is the Pulse
Dominos & Presidente
The colmado is where everything happens. It’s the corner spot, the gathering place, the unofficial town square. You stop in for something quick, and suddenly you’re deep in a game of dominoes, music is blasting, and someone’s handing you a cold beer without even asking.
There’s always movement. Rum flows, the fryer sizzles, someone’s dancing.
The colmado doesn’t have to try—it just is the vibe. It’s where conversations happen, where people link up, where stories get shared.
Specialty shop
Local cheeses, smoky longaniza, and salami that speaks for itself.
And let’s talk about the food. DR isn’t just rooted in tradition—it’s evolving. You've got your abuelas throwing down in the kitchen, and at the same time, you’ve got Dominican chefs doing wild things with global flavors. One day it’s chicharrón and tostones, the next it’s legit Japanese-Dominican fusion, Italian, Mexican fusion.The food scene is deep in culture here just like our music—and it all moves together.
Chimi Truck in Santo Domingo
Chimi
The Streets Feed You Without Asking
Everywhere you turn, someone’s cooking. Food isn’t a destination—it’s a constant. Whether we were heading to the beach or just cruising around town, we’d pull over whenever something smelled too good to ignore.
Coconut vendors walk the streets.
Fresh coconut is a staple in Dominican kitchens.
We bake it into pan de coco, use the milk as a base in many dishes like, pescado con coco, stir it into moro de guandules con coco, for stews, and cook down the flesh for sweets like dulce de coco and jalao.
—it’s part of how we build flavor, from savory to sweet.
Chiccarron,carne frita,longaniza, pollo frito, Yucca con cebollita
““We don’t reinvent the wheel—we just roll it in sazón.””
Grills lined the blocks, smoke rising, meat hissing on hot steel. the streets smell of roasted pork, Pernil baby! with extra Wasakaka which is DR’s answer to anything that needs flavor turned all the way up. It’s a garlicky, citrus-forward sauce made with bitter orange juice (or lime if you’re improvising), mashed garlic, Dominican oregano, cilantro, and local peppers. It’s bright, punchy, and unapologetically bold.
Texture-wise, it’s somewhere between a loose chimichurri and a rustic vinaigrette. You spoon it, pour it, soak things in it. It cuts through rich meats like roasted chicken and pernil, but it’s just as at home over yuca, tostones, or a fat slice of avocado.
Beach Eats Hit Different
Pina colada
We hit the coast and went in. Fresh snapper, caught that morning and fried whole, crispy skin and all. Served with tostones, lime, maybe a little hot sauce if you're smart. You eat with your hands, Presidente is a must
Brugal with Coconut water
You don’t need to ask if it’s fresh—you can taste it. It’s simple, perfect, and exactly what your body wants after a swim and a little too much sun.
Fruit That Actually Tastes Like Fruit
The fruit was simply an experience. It’s warm from the sun, wild in color, and tastes how fruit’s supposed to taste. I snacked on guava straight from the tree out back, mangos, golden apples, breadfruit, papaya, limoncillo—everything juicy Even the veggies and herbs tasted intense, everything in season.
And when it rained? You already know. Hot chocolate made with Dominican cacao, cinnamon, clove, nutmeg, and ginger. Paired with pan de agua, it hits different. Pure comfort.
Soup on the Hottest Day—Because Why Not?
Latinos love making sancocho when it’s 90 degrees and nobody questions it. It’s almost a joke—but it works. That rich, slow-cooked stew with layers of meat, root veggies, and sazón that tastes like home. Served hot, eaten slow, always with people around.
Music playing. Dominoes on the sidewalk. Somebody talking baseball, somebody singing. The food is part of it, but it’s the energy that fills you up.
Cocido de Patica de vaca
We don’t waste a thing—and that’s where dishes like cocido de patica de vaca come in.
Yeah, cow’s foot stew might sound wild if you didn’t grow up with it, but out here, we know better. All that collagen, all that flavor—it’s good for you. We understand every part of the animal has a purpose. You honor the ingredient by using it all, not picking and choosing.
“Good food is about more than just what’s on the plate. It’s about how it’s served, who it’s shared with, and the story it carries”
It’s Not Just a Trip. It’s a Reminder.
Food tells you everything—if you’re willing to taste it.
Try something outside your usual order. Ask where it came from. Taste it the way it’s made. Let the flavors challenge you, comfort you, teach you something.
The more open you are, the more the plate gives back.
J, Always hungry