A fresh morning drizzle on Saturday either lended to or came from the heavy fog, priced by downtown Omaha’s few skyscrapers. The view from Cummings Street was thankfully unobstructed as I drove to the next restaurant on my list. It was not fair to my destination that in my Jetta’s passenger seat sat a grizzled veteran of the trade – a man who had lived long enough to garner and weed out many opinions about the food in Omaha,

A true South Omaha Boy: my father.

He was rather excited to try a ‘new’ restaurant, ‘new’ being entirely subjective based on how long it has existed in his memory. We were headed to “Elie’s Chinchorro,” a Caribbean food spot near the “new" stadium. (Has it really been so long since Rosenblatt has been taken down?) As the mist fell gently onto the earth from the sky that had been pierced by towers, my father’s enthusiasm to try the new restaurant was a brightness.

Upon driving by, even in the rain, it was clear that the building that holds Elie’s Chinchorro is a sleek and modern establishment that is well placed to receive many visitors during the College World Series. It had a small outdoor eating area and one of those welcome glass garage doors that can be opened on good weather days; those always make for better atmospheres and lend to better air quality.

Just past the patio, once we were inside of Elie’s Chinchorro I was greeted with a bar that looked like it would fit in one of those 80’s action movies set in a tropical jungle with their cool, weathered wooden roofs. My expert critic and I both commented on how clean and tidy, yet how thematic the restaurant was.

My father and I perused the menus, looking for anything that stood out to us, though in all honesty anything that wasn’t an English word made it so I had little idea about what exactly it was that I would be ordering. Some items had descriptions in English and some didn’t. It did all look good, from what images were provided.

I was most familiar with the foods on the appetizer part of the menu, except for the turnovers. I recall ordering the “shrimp turnover,” however what came out of the kitchen was a ground beef turnover. While not what I asked for – in the restaurant's favor it was delicious: the shell was perfect (not too crisp, not too soft) and the beef was spiced fantastically. The turnovers that were brought out disappeared quickly, and while they were great, I did feel they were overpriced. Smaller than a taco, we were provided with just two of them.

My expert critic across from me ordered their Cuban Sandwich and graciously cut off a corner for me so I could give you an accurate account (it may also be because I love food). The Cuban was the star of the show: I think my dad went from “mhmm" to “oouuhmmmphm" in the same speed as it takes a head to loll forwards and back. He remarked that it was one of the best Cubans he had ever eaten in Omaha, “top three,” seemed to be the minimum score he would give it. “This is real meat, and not just the edges and leftovers and scrapings that other sandwiches have.”

The Cuban was a rich and solid sandwich that was easily worth the fourteen dollars it cost (it came with fries with some strange, white sauce on top that neither of us could quite place. Those too were crispy and cooked very well).

For myself, I chose the item on the menu that held the same name as the restaurant: a burger called “Elie’s Burger.” My feelings were that if a restaurant names a food with the same name, it must be proud of it. The picture of it on the menu made it look humongous, and when it was brought out to us it was presented just as fat as it looked in the picture.

Two wonderfully cooked hamburger patties were stacked under a somewhat runny egg. Crisp lettuce, firm tomatoes, bacon, and little crouton bits… might have made a good hamburger, but it was drenched in three different sauces that muted everything else. Maybe it's a Caribbean feature that I am too Midwestern to appreciate? On the bottom bun, there was a red sauce that reminded me of a salad dressing, and on the top bun there was a white sauce (same as the fries, maybe?) And of course, in the middle, there was a runny egg.

If there was a menu description of just how many sauces were added, I would not have gotten it.

It was after my father and I had discussed the Cuban sandwich and how much the chef really nailed it, that his expression changed quite dramatically when I picked up the burger named after the restaurant and it oozed yellow, white, and red.

When finally outside and the fresh mist crowned us once more, we spoke more about the experience and I began to solidify my thoughts,

It seemed to my father and I that there was only one server working at that time at Elie’s Chinchorro, and she was easily the busiest person in the restaurant. Comparatively, there were two bartenders and three or so other staff standing around that I could describe as table runners. I would have liked to communicate with the server or a table runner about the staff but It seemed like there was a slight language barrier and a lone, busy waitress that made that difficult.

If the waitress didn’t seem so stressed and busy, or if there were better item descriptions, or if there didn’t seem to be a disconnect in our language, then I could have asked what was on the typhoon of a sauce burger beforehand.

Though the Cuban sandwich was truly superb and shone all on its own, and the turnover was also great, I felt like the potential for an amazing experience was muddled, and perhaps on another day, it could have been better.

A++ Cuban sandwich, though.

Austin Petak is an aspiring novelist and freelance journalist who loves seeking stories and the quiet passions of the soul. If you are interested in reaching out to him to cover a story, you may find him at austinpetak@gmail.com.