When Guy Fieri tore through town in his red Chevy Camaro on Season 24 of Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives, I wasn’t sure where he would end up. It was all very mysterious, and yet how did we question it? Piglatin had been a staple food truck downtown for some time. When the episode premiered, it was the stacked Arepa entrée that was the focus, which is a round, flat maize dough; some compare it to a Gordita. His response to the pineapple pork filling was “Prime Time!”, and thus the people began lining up. Piglatin branched off from their food truck to a non-mobile cocina early this year. Some people call it Cuban, some Colombian, and others refer to it as “Latin fusion”. I’m excited to eat.

I pulled into the parking lot off Dublin Blvd and took a quick scan; I immediately could see people pouring out of the restaurant—bustling and blaring music into your hungry little ears. I didn’t realize that it was “Taco Thursday,” so you might have assumed it would be a long wait or a stressed staff, but it was the opposite. Everyone was buzzing, and you immediately felt energized— or maybe it was the smell of chorizo that made me pipe up. I don’t know. I reviewed the menu prior and decided on the Seafood Boil: shrimp, baby clams, chorizo, street corn on the cob, and a refreshing sofrito sauce that was reminiscent of fresh cilantro and zesty bell peppers.

The meats were well-simmered and immersed in ingredients that were outstanding. The prize was the citrus-garlic pork that was presented in their signature dish, the Piglatin Plate, drizzled with a jalapeño-habanero cilantro sauce that was beyond. BEYOND, I say! I could imagine buying this at the local supermarket and dipping pork rinds, veggies, or sneaking it on a spoon. It was that good, folks.

A true Cubano sandwich is hard to find. Sadly, there are tons of imposters out there. Most skimp on meat, lack seasoning, and/or the overabundance of bread/bun really bums me out. This Cubano had all the whistles and bells, and then some. Swiss cheese, tangy mustard, and yuca fries balanced out the citrus in the pork.

Cuban? Latin Fusion? I’m not sure. My only advice is to get a table with some elbow room, have your napkin tucked in, and provide yourself with plenty of time to revel in their menu. My tell-tale food compliment is “the nod.” You know what I’m talking about: the nod to yourself (or to your waiter or fellow patrons) that acknowledges you are having a food experience worthy of note. Will I be back? Yes. Will I tell everyone about it? Already have.