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The Fourth Plate social card: Hispanic Heritage Month spotlights food's African roots

Hispanic Heritage Month spotlights food’s African roots

From Brazil’s acaraje to Peru’s tacu tacu, dishes across Latin America and the Caribbean trace directly back to West African cooking traditions.

By
Staff Writer
September 23, 2026
4 min read

Hispanic Heritage Month, observed from mid-September to mid-October, has turned renewed attention this year to a fact often overlooked in conversations about Latin American cuisine. Much of it traces directly back to West Africa. Enslaved people carried that culinary knowledge across the Atlantic, and it reshaped the region's food from the ground up.

Brazil's acaraje offers perhaps the clearest example. The deep-fried fritter is made from black-eyed peas cooked in dende palm oil. It originated in the Gulf of Benin in West Africa before arriving in Brazil with enslaved people. It remains tied to Candomble religious practices today. Brazil's National Institute of Historic and Artistic Heritage has formally recognised it as intangible cultural heritage. It is an official acknowledgement of a dish still sold daily by street vendors across Salvador and well beyond its city limits, in markets and on street corners alike.

Mofongo, the fried and mashed green plantain dish closely associated with Puerto Rico, blends Taino, African, Spanish and North American culinary traditions into a single plate. Its preparation method evolved directly from fufu, the pounded starchy dish common across West Africa long before plantains reached the Caribbean.

Hispanic Heritage Month spotlights food's African roots
Photo by Valdhy Mbemba on Unsplash

Plantains carried a cooking method across the ocean

A similar pattern shows up in the Dominican Republic's mangu, boiled and mashed green plantains typically served with pickled red onions. Plantains themselves originated in Southeast Asia. They only became a West African staple after Spanish and Portuguese traders introduced them there centuries earlier. They arrived in Latin America from the Canary Islands in the early 1500s, around the same period enslaved Africans were being forcibly transported to the region. The technique of boiling and mashing starchy foods travelled with them, and outlasted the ships that carried it.

From Peru's coast to Central America's Garifuna kitchens

In Peru, tacu tacu is a dish of rice and beans fried together, often served with meat or seafood. It developed during the colonial period, as Peruvian cuisine fused with the culinary traditions enslaved Africans brought with them across the Atlantic. Its origins trace specifically to African diaspora communities in the Chincha and Canete valleys south of Lima. Historians increasingly recognise those valleys as centres of Afro-Peruvian culture in their own right, not merely a footnote to Lima's better-documented history.

Sancocho, the hearty stew of meat, plantains and vegetables found across the Caribbean and Latin America, carries African influences that are particularly evident in Panama's version of the dish. In Central America, tapado, a coconut-based seafood stew with fish, shrimp, crab, plantains and yuca, forms a signature part of Garifuna cuisine, a food tradition that itself emerged from the mixing of African and Caribbean peoples across Guatemala, Honduras, Belize and Nicaragua.

Brazil's feijoada, the black bean stew with pork served with rice, greens and orange slices, rounds out a list that researchers describe as far from exhaustive. Its development reflects the same three-way fusion of Portuguese, Indigenous and African influences that shaped much of Brazilian food culture more broadly, a pattern repeated with local variations across the wider region.

Culinary historians say the throughline across all these dishes is not coincidence but structural: enslaved Africans across the Americas frequently worked in kitchens, and cooking techniques, ingredients and preservation methods carried within families and communities regardless of the brutal conditions surrounding that labour. What survives on plates across Latin America today is, in that sense, a form of cultural memory that outlasted the systems that tried to erase it, still eaten daily rather than confined to historical record. Central America’s own food story this month is a harder one, as an El Nino-driven drought strains harvests across the region.

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