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SAN JUAN, Puerto Rico - On the other side of a huddle of homely buildings, tacky shacks and paint-thirsty kiosks are beaches the color of latte, blue skies batting clouds around and Atlantic waves gently bumping the shore.

So where am I?

Among those shabby food stalls and no-frills restaurants, eating my way through a crispy slice of Puerto Rican history.

Fried finger foods, or cuchifritos, are a legacy of slaves brought from Africa to work sugar and coffee plantations for Spanish landowners. Given leftovers from the great houses, the workers added plantains and other easy-to-get ingredients, seasoned them with spices and cooking methods of Europe and Africa, and created what today is classic Puerto Rican beach chow.

Snackers cruise kioscos by the shore at Piñones and Luquillo east of San Juan, making tough choices among the golden mounds of fritos (fritters).

''It's a matter of taste, but that's what makes the fun of it,'' said Norma Llop, a chef trained at the Culinary Institute of America who is product development manager for Puerto Rico's culinary tourism. ''Just go from kiosk to kiosk and gossip [cuchi] about it.''

The fare doesn't try to be fancy. Offerings include fish pancakes, meat pies, corn sticks, kebabs and baseball-size orbs of potato or plantain with a meat center and crisp-crust jacket. Put a few together with a soda or an island-brewed Medalla beer, and you have more than a snack. You have an inexpensive, filling meal.

It's easy to see what's cooking. Many vendors prepare the foods as you watch, then plop batter-dipped treats into deep pans of popping oil. Like tourists after a week on the sand, the fritters emerge hot and gilded.

''That's the food not for people on a diet,'' says José Morales, an island guide.

But Puerto Ricans seem unconcerned. On weekends, traffic is bumper-to-bumper and parking helter-skelter as islanders crowd Piñones and Luquillo for what Morales calls ''a shot of grease.''

Healthier oil options are few. Lard heats and cooks fast, minimizing the time foods soak in the bubbling bath. Add to that, ''It doesn't taste the same with olive oil,'' Morales says.

Fritters are found islandwide.

At Kaplash on Highway 115, about 10 minutes from the west-coast university town of Mayaguez, empanadillas are a specialty. Patrons wait on the cafe's sunny back balcony for flaky half-moons of pastry filled with meat or fish.

''This is not necessarily fast food,'' says Miguel Blay of the Puerto Rico Tourist Co. ''Every empanadilla is handmade to each order.''

On the southwest coast, El Shamal in Boquerón next to Boquerón Beach gets a rave from Francisco Jusino of the Aventuras Puerto Rico tour company. The empanadillas are plump, with no filler. ''If you ask for lobster, it's there.''

Lunchers find fritters in covered markets in Ponce on the south coast and the Santurce neighborhood of San Juan, and on Ponce's harbor boardwalk.

At La Parguera in the south, visitors return from cruising the nearby bioluminescent bay and wash down fritters with fruity and smooth sangria at Sangria Marca Cono by the dock.

Fritters are about the same anywhere, Morales says. ''As long as they're fresh, they're good.''

Eat 'em while they're hot, and ''hotter is better,'' says Llop, who says fritters are a flop as takeout. ''If you take it home, it gets soggy and loses its taste. Like a wet piece of bread.''

Deep African roots on the northeast coast give Piñones and Luquillo the edge on authenticity. Weekends bring enthusiastic crowds.

Drivers on Highway 3 watch for a billboard about seven miles from Fajardo touting McDonald's. It's the ''X'' marking the spot at Luquillo, where a rank of concrete kiosks serves a feast of fritters. Vendors occupied painted wooden shacks until Hurricane Hugo swept them away in 1989. The replacements could use some paint, but décor isn't the draw.

People go to kiosks ''because it's cheap food,'' Llop said. And ''because it tastes damned good.''

Young Puerto Ricans will tell you it's also because the savory safari is a great way to spend an afternoon together without spending a lot of money.

Two fish tacos, an alcapurria (cigar-shape plaintain-and-meat fritter), a beer and a soda are a crackling hot, surprisingly nongreasy deal for two at $7.

Two popular, standard restaurants at Piñones, the Reef Bar and Grill and Soleil Beach Club, plus several other sit-down cafes, can't on their own gentrify this hardscrabble area on Highway 188 east of Old San Juan. On a Monday, trash left by weekend throngs flutters across the unpaved ground, even as some vendors sweep and clean after the crush. A few kiosks are closed, their cooks back at weekday jobs after their weekend sideline to earn extra cash.

Some places appear less than appetizing, but looks can be deceiving. Kiosks must be licensed, and that means inspections by health authorities, Llop assured.

Moreover, Morales said, vendors ''don't want their restaurant to be fancy because people will think it's too expensive.''

Still, he advises, ''If it looks clean and you can see what they're cooking, it's best.''

* Sorrullitos (sorrullo): Corn sticks, sometimes served with ketchup-mayo dip

* Tostones de panas: Fried breadfruit

* Alcapurria: Mashed plantain filled with meat then fried (no batter coating)

* Chapin: Fish taco in phyllo-like wrap; similar to a burrito but with closed ends

* Pionono: Plantain sliced longways and fried, then wrapped around meat patty, battered and fried

* Carne al pincho: Kebabs of beef or chicken