Havana and Varadero – Cuba. It takes either strict discipline or absolute freedom of mind to allow an experience to unfold as it will without imposing our own expectations or preconceived opinions. To do so is to accept life’s happenings and encounters for what they are, rather than what we imagined them to be and to evaluate objectively, without the bias of forethought. It’s a tall order, but worth practicing from time to time. Exploring a new cuisine is a great opportunity to try. Take my recent introduction to Cuba’s food scene, for example.
On one hand, Cuba is known worldwide for simple, delicious dishes that blend the flavors and techniques of Spanish, African, and Indigenous cuisines – think “moros y cristianos,” “ropa vieja,” and yummy yucca and plantain preparations. Across the United States, in particular, restaurants and cafés serve up deliciously savory dishes inspired by the island. Cuban food has popular appeal, and common wisdom suggests that, like all cuisine, it should be at its best and most authentic at the source, in Cuba. So, to say that I arrived in Cuba favorably disposed to the food experience ahead would be a gross understatement.
On the other hand, the country’s agricultural production capacity has diminished greatly since the collapse of the Soviet Union limiting access to fresh, local ingredients and necessitating importation of up to 70% of the country’s food and much of its chicken and beef. Add to this the ubiquity of state-owned restaurants (and some privately owned and operated paladares) serving up formulaic meals of rice, chicken, and beans with low quality ingredients, and the dissonance between the Cuban food adventure I imagined and the one I experienced grows louder. I had so many ideas about what Cuban food — in Cuba — should be, and at every turn, I battled them.
“Well,” said Pooh, “what I like best,” and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn’t know what it was called.”
So, I searched for the Cuban food of my dreams. Through the streets of old and central Havana, I sought out bakeries and butcher shops, holes-in-the-wall dishing up “real-deal” Cuban fare. In the process, I discovered open-air markets tucked in and between dilapidated buildings. I found small stores distributing state-subsidized goods like sugar, coffee, and rice, the full menu of available products displayed on a chalkboard behind the counter. I happened upon street vendors selling baked goods and fruit on quiet corners.
And I had some truly lovely meals. Chef Carlos Cristóbal Marquez Valdés’s San Cristóbal Paladar on San Rafael in Centro Havana is a standout. This eclectic, cozy dining spot serves up Latin American favorites with a twist. Lunch at the beachfront Xanadu, the former Dupont mansion in Varadero, Cuba, was another high mark, made better by the pristine strip of beach along which it sits. Dinner at La Moraleja Paladar in Havana and lunch at Restaurante DeVino featuring produce from the adjacent Finca La Yoandra, were great, but I never quite found the Cuban feast I’d conjured in my head.
Imagination is powerful, I discovered. It can make us believe we know before we’ve experienced, to taste in our mouths before we’ve eaten. The ability to think a thing into being is a part of being human, a gift to be used in moderation. To truly encounter the authentic, we must see experiences for what they are, not what we wish them to be.