I shouldn’t even write this.
I should keep this Florida girl secret to myself.
Seriously, it’s not even a real recipe.
But you’re here. We’re friends. And friends help each other out. Even when it comes to food cheating.
One bottle, two words: Mojo Criollo.
I think my mother first told me about this magical marinade about 6 years ago. You can use it on anything, but my preferred method is to wake up 20 min before I swore I’d be at the gym, tear open a package of chicken (recent preferred part is thighs), dump it in a bowl, cover it in mojo, pop it in the fridge and then blearily head to the nearest stair master.
(Stair master? Jesus, I really have become my mother). Continue Reading