Communism Bad for Cuisine

I mentioned that I would post about our trip to Cuba, and I have been slacking. It's been over two months now, but I find that is the amount of time it has taken for my digestive system to recalibrate itself and find it in it's gut to forgive me. For I have heaped atrocities in the form of near-spoiled and much-stale food upon it, and it is no surprise my stomach held a grudge.

I'm not saying all food in Cuba is bad; on the contrary, we ate some delicious lobster at a restaurant called Barracuda (I read some tourist reviews after our return) at a restaurant on the beach. The owners, the musicians, all attentive, all smiles on their faces, and from what I gather, really enjoying themselves, this, their home, their livelihood, and they indeed made it beautiful.

But the day fear strikes you to your bowels is the day you eat on the resort. Again, not all resort food was bad, BUT...

When at the omelet station, I asked for capers and smoked salmon in my egg whites, he dumped a hunk of matted salmon, two spoonfuls of capers in their brine, more brine than capers, and tossed it into my half cooked whites and slid the whole sloppy mess onto my plate. This was not an isolated incident - at a restaurant in Havana, a tourist trap our Cubanos 'friends' wanted us to visit (for the kickback, we realized after being seated), the meat was tough, the dining room empty (except for one other table, our friends, who were also taken by the same group of Cubans), and the service, well.... what service?

The 'chain' workers, the ones who are there for a job, they do exactly that - the job. They do not care how the food is presented, only that it is presented. Follow the instructions as quickly as possible. Taste, presentation, quality - these are not concerns that plague the chain worker. This is not their fault either; they need a job because they need money, so if this is the job they can get to suit their needs, by all means, take it. It's our own faults for patronizing their establishments, isn't it? If we want good food, it's up to us to seek it out.

That's why, one day, walking through Veradero, with my husband and our friends, I saw a little restaurant, a couple locals walking out, and the menu was unpretentious but interesting enough to make me say, 'this is where I want to have lunch.' And the friends all followed. And though they messed up our order, the food was still good. I had to share my plate with my husband for how big the portion was. But what got me was the portly owner behind the counter, sheepishly bending over backwards to get out the missing dish (which I declined, come on, when I'm hungry I get pissy; who doesn't?), who took such pride when he came over to ask how our meal was.

People say love makes the food better. I don't expect a stranger to love me. But if your livelihood is in part feeding people, care about your food. Because it doesn't take hate to ruin someones stomach for weeks. Only neglect.

I'm sure there are many wonderful little restaurants in Cuba, which is unfortunate, because I would have liked to have seen them while I was there. As you surely can guess, H and I will not be making a return trip. The only location where my final meal could ever be bread, while, olive oil and cheese should be Italy. And that, hopefully, will come sometime in the next few years...