When i was in Boston, i lived in a little Cuban neighborhood in Jamaica Plain. On the weekends, i would drop my dirties at the laundromat, where the old guy who owned the place would wash dry and fold it all for ten cents a pound. he had a half broom handle that he would carry with him all the time that he would use to stick in the wash and poke things around during the agitation cycle and he always wore a guyabera shirt. next door was a cuban take out place with fantastic media noche sandwiches. Tonight in Portland I found a little reproduction of my Boston/Cuban hook up, done up in florid pink and yellow. Tostones most delicious.
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