The SaagA Continues. A cigar, a croquette, and the dangerous question that followed.

The breeze cut through the Miami humidity that night.

The air smelled like Cuban coffee, bourbon, leather, and cigars. Somewhere down the block a salsa band was playing. Jon and I were sitting outside Café La Trova in Little Havana, having a cigar and waiting for the food to hit the table.

Then the door swung open.

“Food is here.”

Inside the lights were dim and the music softened into the background. Plates started filling the table. Tostones. Oxtail pasta. Conversations layering over the band playing in the distance.

Then I saw them.

Croquettes.

Two kinds.

One mushroom.

One jamón.

I went straight for the jamón.

Crunch.

Salt.

Fat.

Cream.

It melted instantly.

Good. Really good.

But I needed to know the difference.

So I grabbed the mushroom croquette.

I bit down and something strange happened.

I started laughing.

Not because it was funny.

Because it was that good.

The shell shattered and the inside melted into this deep mushroom cream that wrapped around my taste buds and refused to let go.

You know something hits when you slowly start shaking your head at the table.

That was me.

The mushroom croquette was something I had never experienced before.

That bite sent me down the rabbit hole.

Jon looked up after tasting it.

It was like he had opened Pandora’s box.

Like he had just plugged into the Matrix and answers were being downloaded into his brain.

Then he asked a dangerous question.

“Can we make this with bacon?”

That one question pushed everything further.

But my brain had already gone somewhere else entirely.

What if we took the mushroom croquette and pushed it further?

Not copy it.

Elevate it.

Take something that was already great and build it into something deeper. Something layered. Something intentional.

Because when we worked with mushrooms and saag before, the flavor was there.

The texture wasn’t.

Mushrooms collapse.

They disappear into the greens.

The croquette changed that.

Now the mushroom had structure.

Crunch on the outside.

Silk inside.

The mushroom stayed the star instead of getting lost in the greens.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that another thought hit me.

I think I can make mushroom croquettes better than Chef Michelle Bernstein.

Not out of disrespect.

Just the way a chef thinks when something lights a fire in their brain.

So we started building.

The first test?

Nailed it.

Crunch on the outside.

Silk inside.

Mushroom flavor exploding through the saag.

We all just looked at each other.

That quiet nod chefs give when something works.

Then the second batch came out.

Total disaster.

Wrong ratio.

Too loose.

No structure.

Croquettes blowing out in the fryer.

That’s when the real work started.

Because that’s the thing about cooking.

You don’t really understand a dish until you break it.

Once we fixed the ratios and the structure, everything snapped into place.

The croquette became the anchor of the dish.

Underneath it sat the saag.

Bitter greens layered with spice.

Then chili crisp on top.

Heat.

Crunch.

Depth.

Cuban technique.

Indian flavor.

Two completely different traditions that somehow worked together.

Not confusion.

True infusion.

But that night in Little Havana something else clicked for me too.

Food wasn’t just flavor.

It was history.

Every bite carried something from somewhere. A culture. A technique. A story that existed long before we ever sat down at that table.

If you want to cook well you have to understand where food comes from.

Learn it.

Respect it.

Break it.

But never pretend you invented it.

Take saag for example.

In the royal courts of the Mughal emperor Akbar the First there were no chilies in India yet. Ginger, fennel, and black pepper carried the heat. Saag itself was never just spinach. It was winter greens layered slowly with spices building flavor over time.

Flavor on flavor.

Layer on layer.

That philosophy is what cracked the dish open for us.

Mushrooms cooked down until their earthiness deepened. Aromatics folded in. A tight béchamel binder holding everything together. Cheese melting through the mixture.

Then the croquette.

Crunch on the outside.

Silk inside.

Underneath it all sat the saag.

Then chili crisp.

And here is the part that still makes us laugh.

We have talked about taking the dish off the menu.

But we can’t.

Because we crave it.

The crunch.

The umami.

The bitterness of the saag.

The heat from the chili crisp.

Sometimes someone takes a bite and I see it happen again.

They slowly start shaking their head at the table.

The same way I did that night at Café La Trova.

All because one croquette did something unexpected.

It solved a problem we didn’t even know we had.

Food stopped being flavor.

It became history.

If you want to try them yourself, here is the croquette recipe we use in the kitchen.

Mushroom Croquettes

The croquette that started a rabbit hole after a night at Café La Trova in Little Havana.

Serves 4 | Makes 12 croquettes

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2. Ingredients Section

Break it into groups the way chefs think.

Mushroom Base

1 lb mushrooms, finely chopped

1 tbsp neutral oil or butter

2 tbsp minced red onion

2 cloves garlic, minced

¾ tsp kosher salt

¼ tsp black pepper

Béchamel Binder

3 tbsp butter

3 tbsp flour

1 cup whole milk

Pinch nutmeg

Salt to taste

Cheese

½ cup Jack Cheese, shredded

Breading

½ cup flour

2 eggs + 1 tbsp milk

1½ cups panko

Frying

Neutral oil for frying

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3. Directions Section

Use clear numbered steps.

Readers love this.

1 — Cook the Mushrooms

Heat oil in a wide sauté pan.

Add onions and cook until translucent.

Add mushrooms and cook over medium high heat until all moisture evaporates and the mushrooms become deeply aromatic.

Add garlic, cook one minute.

Season with salt and pepper.

Spread onto a tray to cool.

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2 — Make the Béchamel

Melt butter in a saucepan.

Whisk in flour and cook 2–3 minutes to form a blond roux.

Slowly whisk in milk.

Cook until very thick and moundable.

Season lightly with salt and nutmeg.

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3 — Combine

Fold cooled mushrooms into the béchamel.

Mix in Monterey Jack.

Spread mixture on a tray and refrigerate until firm.

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4 — Shape

Scoop into 2 tbsp portions.

Roll into balls.

Chill 20 minutes.

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5 — Bread

Roll croquettes in flour.

Dip in egg wash.

Coat in panko.

Repeat egg and panko for extra crunch.

Chill again 15 minutes.

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6 — Fry

Heat oil to 350°F.

Fry croquettes 3–4 minutes until golden brown.

Drain and rest 1–2 minutes before serving.

At Aatma we plate these over saag and finish them with chili crisp.

The crunch of the croquette, the bitterness of the greens, and the heat from the chili oil create the bite that made us keep the dish on the menu.