Tostones

Tostones are what happens when plantains decide they want to be crisps but with more attitude. They are twice-fried golden medallions of tropical defiance, crunchy on the outside, tender in the middle, and beloved from the Dominican Republic to Miami kitchens that smell like garlic and oil.

The story starts, as most Caribbean dishes do, with colonisation and a fruit that didn’t ask for this. Plantains, cousins to bananas but starchier and stubbornly green until they’re not, arrived in the Caribbean with Spanish ships and settled in comfortably. Locals, finding them harder to eat raw and generally less charming than bananas, decided to cook them. And fry them. Then smash them. Then fry them again, because once is never enough when you live on an island where the sun fries everything else.

The technique is almost childishly simple, yet surprisingly precise. Green plantains are peeled with considerable frustration (they fight back), sliced into thick coins, and given a hot oil bath until just golden. Then they are yanked out, squashed flat like a colonial debt, and dunked back into the oil for their final crisp-up. The result: golden discs that snap when you bite them and taste of savoury sunshine.

Tostones, also known as patacones in parts of South America like Colombia and Panama, are one of those foods that wears many hats. They can be a snack, a side dish, a base for toppings, or an impromptu plate if you’re desperate. They show up at breakfast with eggs, at lunch next to rice and beans, and at dinner, proudly holding up shrimp ceviche or pulled pork. In Puerto Rico, tostones are practically a religion. In Cuba, they come with garlic mojo and a side of nostalgia. In Haiti, they might be called bannann peze and served with pikliz, a fiery pickled slaw that slaps you with flavour.

What makes them special is not just the taste—salty, a little sweet from the ripening plantain, and satisfyingly fatty—but the texture. The twice-frying gives them an outer crunch that holds firm against time, yet inside, there’s a softness, a reminder that this used to be a fruit. There’s also that ritualistic smashing, which is oddly therapeutic and tends to make guests lean in and ask, “What are you doing to that poor thing?”

Drinks? Anything goes. A chilled coconut water if you’re feeling saintly. A rum punch if you’re not. They hold up well to cocktails that pack a punch: think daiquiris, mojitos, or a caipirinha if you’re crossing borders. Beers, of course, are a natural match. The salt loves the bubbles.

Food-wise, tostones play well with others. Guacamole, black bean dip, aioli, ceviche, even a rogue tuna tartare if you’re feeling fusion-y. They are brilliant with grilled meats, especially churrasco or jerk chicken. Cheese fans will love them with queso frito, because double-fried everything is a lifestyle. And if you’re vegan, no worries—these are plant-based from start to finish, unless you start getting cheeky with toppings.

Health-wise, they’re not kale. But they are gluten-free, dairy-free, nut-free, and full of potassium, fibre, and Vitamin C. Frying them in coconut or avocado oil makes them a bit more angelic. Eat in moderation and all is well. Eat the whole tray and… well, you won’t regret it, but your nap will be immediate.

You’ll find tostones wherever the Caribbean diaspora has spread its flavours. Latin American restaurants, food trucks, grandma’s kitchen in Flatbush, pop-ups in Brixton, and increasingly, trendy brunch places that pretend they invented them. But the best ones? Still at home, made in a small kitchen that smells like garlic and ambition.

Here’s how to make your own. Brace yourself for peeling. Maybe keep plasters nearby.

Tostones Recipe

Ingredients:

• 2 green plantains (make sure they are very firm and green, no yellow spots)
• Oil for frying (vegetable, peanut, or avocado oil)
• Salt
• Optional: garlic water or mojo sauce for post-frying drizzle

Method:

Slice the ends off the plantains and score the skin lengthwise with a sharp knife. Peel them with your fingers or a spoon, swearing as needed. Slice into 1-inch chunks.

Heat about an inch of oil in a frying pan until shimmering. Fry the plantain pieces until just golden, about 3-4 minutes per side. Remove and drain on paper towels.

Now the fun part: place each piece between two sheets of parchment and smash it flat with the bottom of a mug, a tostonera if you’re fancy, or your bare hands if you’re feeling primal.

Return the flattened discs to the hot oil and fry again until crisp and deeply golden, another 2 minutes per side. Drain again. While still hot, sprinkle with salt and, if you want to go full island, brush them with garlic water (minced garlic steeped in warm salted water).

Serve immediately with dips, toppings, or straight up. They’ll be gone faster than you can say “patacón pisao.”

Tostones are not just food. They’re attitude fried into a disc. And once you try them, you’ll find yourself wondering what else in life might benefit from being smashed and fried twice.