Mofongo Is One of Puerto Rico’s Most Iconic Dishes—Here’s How I Make It at Home

Whenever I go back home to Puerto Rico to visit family, I always order mofongo from a tiny deli in Rio Piedras. It’s become a tradition I look forward to. Tucked away from the hustle and bustle of touristy Old San Juan, this is one of my favorite places for the fried plantain dish served on a plain white plate with a small cup of caldo (chicken broth) on the side. Huge pilóns—seasoned wooden mortar and pestles—are lined up on the stainless steel counters and used for smashing the garlic, pork cracklings, and fried plantains into the irresistible spoonable dish. 

Mofongo is near and dear to me and to many other fellow Puerto Ricans, and like many beloved national dishes throughout the Caribbean diaspora, there tends to be a lot of contention about who makes it the best and what to serve it with. When I’m not able to enjoy mofongo at my favorite deli in Rio Piedras, here’s my favorite way to prepare a traditional version at home.

Origins and Influences of Mofongo

Puerto Rican cuisine is a combination of West African, Spanish, and indigenous Taíno foods and cooking methods. Learning more about each of these influences has inherently shaped and strengthened my connection to my cultural foods, family, and homeland. When the influence of Spanish cooking methods and foods were brought to the island during colonization in the early 1500s, they were overlaid onto the indigenous Taíno cuisine, as well as the West African dishes of the enslaved populations who were already on the island. 

Mofongo can be considered the distant cousin of West African fufu, a similar dish of mashed starchy vegetables, often plantains. The main difference between mofongo and fufu is the cooking method of the plantains themselves: Mofongo uses fried plantain chunks while fufu uses boiled plantains. Other mashed plantain dishes similar to mofongo include the Dominican Republic’s mangú and Cuba’s fufu de plátano, which often use plantains, but can also use other starchy root vegetables like taro, yams, or cassava.

My Advice for Preparing Mofongo

In restaurants, Mofongo is almost always prepared to order and individual servings come together fairly quickly. The cook smashes fried chunks of plantain with a savory chicken broth, garlic, and pork cracklings in a pilón before it’s flipped in a rounded mound onto a serving plate. It’s easy to understand why restaurants prepare individual servings to order—once mashed, mofongo is prone to drying out quickly. So when I make mofongo at home, I stick with the restaurant approach of preparing individual portions so I can control the texture of each helping. Preparing mofongo this way requires a bit of multitasking, but it ensures perfect mofongo every time. Here’s my advice for preparing moist, spoonable mofongo at home.

Start with green plantains. One of mofongo’s defining features is the use of  fried green plantains as the starchy base. Plantains continue to ripen after they’re harvested and their starches slowly convert into sugars, which you do not want in this recipe. Green plantains are still firm and have a high starch content, which ensures that once they’re fried and mashed, the final mofongo is savory, not sweet, and the mashed mixture is pleasantly starchy, cohesive, and absorbs seasoning easily. Think of it as the difference between mashing potatoes versus mashing ripe bananas. Your mofongo should have a mashed potato–like texture, and starting with starchy under-ripe plantains will guarantee this.

Fry the plantains in batches for even cooking. The trick to great fried plantains for mofongo is to cook them at a steady temperature, giving the exterior plenty of time to turn crisp without giving the plantain a chance to dry out. To do this, I shallow fry them, first starting in moderately hot oil (350ºF) and cooking them just long enough that they develop a thin, golden, crisp exterior and are fork tender inside. To ensure the oil temperature doesn’t drop too drastically once the plantains are added to the hot oil, I fry them in batches—this way the oil temperature hovers around 350ºF the entire time they cook. If the oil temperature drops, just raise the heat level as needed.

Use a pilón or mortar and pestle for preparing individual servings. At home, I prefer to use a pilón, and call for using one below. Not only is using this Puerto Rican wooden mortar and pestle the traditional method, it’s easy and efficient since everything gets prepared in one vessel. There’s no need for a extra chopping of ingredients—you’re able to make the dish with just one tool. Also once it is mashed, the mofongo can just be flipped onto the serving plate to produce the dish’s signature domed shape. If you don’t have a pilón, a basic mortar and pestle will work just as well. And if you don’t have either of these, don’t fret: You can use a large mixing bowl and potato masher instead.

Add extra broth when mashing if needed to ensure the best texture. As mentioned above, mofongo should have the texture of cohesive, chunky mashed potatoes—slightly smooth and tender, but with added texture from the crispy edges of the fried plantains along with the mashed pork cracklings. Since starchy plantains dry out easily and soak up a lot of moisture, it’s likely you’ll need to add some chicken broth when mashing to get the right texture. So if your mofongo gets too dry and starts to fall apart, just keep adding the warm broth, a few tablespoons at a time, to bind the mixture back together while smashing.

Cover the individual portions once assembled. To keep assembled portions warm while preparing each serving, I recommend covering the prepared portions with aluminum foil or plastic wrap. This will help them retain their heat and will also trap in steam, further preventing the mofongo from drying out.

Get saucy. In my opinion, this fried and smashed plantain mixture is essentially a vessel for a good saucy moment. Traditionally, mofongo is served with a choice of sauces: a simple caldo, typically a plain chicken broth; salsa criolla, a sofrito- and tomato-based stew studded with shrimp, pork, or poultry; and al ajillo, a scampi-like sauce with tons of garlic and a good olive oil simmered with a protein. When I want to go big with a little more drama out at restaurants in Puerto Rico, I’ll order al ajillo with pulpo, chunks of octopus simmered gently in the garlicky sauce. The sauces are then served on top of a mound of mofongo, stuffed on the inside for a more tidy presentation, or placed in a bowl on the side.  You can also customize your own sauce for serving with mofongo.

There are many incredible sauce options, and I encourage you to taste them all, but personally, I prefer mofongo with a small bowl of caldo. It serves double duty here: It’s mashed into the plantains for flavor and moisture, as well served as a sauce on the side. I love the fact that the simple, savory broth doesn’t overpower the plantain flavor.

Whatever sauce you choose to serve with your mofongo, once you have your first bite, you’ll find that making mofongo at home is well worth the effort. And if you’ve never been to my beloved small tropical island in the Caribbean, this iconic dish is sure to inspire you to visit.