Cadena Paladar

I’ll never forget in my life the legend of Raquel.
The passion, the kindness of that sweet woman
who got rich and famous selling tamales on the beach
shouting barefoot along Ipanema's shore.

And for those crazy things that happen in soap operas
where reality and fiction always leave their marks
and when Regina Duarte became a fetish
everyone back in Havana wanted to set up their own little spot.

I’m gonna make my Paladar, better than Tocororo.
So you can eat chatinos and moro rice.
Better than Tocororo.
Chatinos and moro rice.

That’s how it started, the all-out battle
between the Cuban State and the Paladar Chain.
Arguing about the law, health, peace, and decency
they couldn’t stand such fierce competition.

They chased the moamba, seized the supplies
and fined the signs of consumer society.
And one night, at one of those places, when the food was best,
the Sector Chief showed up with about thirty cops.

And my Paladar, better than Tocororo, was done.
So you could eat chatinos and moro rice.
Better than Tocororo.
Chatinos and moro rice.

Time passed and August rolled around on the calendar
and I became a small-time entrepreneur.
I’ve got a license to overwhelm your willing senses
and I know how to juggle to pay the taxes.

Don’t ask me, my brother, where I get the flour,
where I catch the lobster, don’t put me on the spot.
Don’t try to find the hypotenuse of this crazy triangle,
enjoy your meal and let me live a little.

'Cause I’ve got my Paladar, better than Tocororo.
So you can eat chatinos and moro rice.
Better than Tocororo.
Chatinos and moro rice.