Cuba Libre

As a latchkey child growing up in Brooklyn, my afternoons were pretty much the same. I would run home after school, open the apartment door with the key that I wore around my neck, lock the door behind me, throw down my schoolbooks, tele­phone my mom at the dress factory where she worked to tell her I arrived, and put the TV on to watch Million Dollar Movie.

I watched Million Dollar Movie every day after school no matter what was showing, and therefore viewed the same movie all week long. I loved the movies as much the fifth time I watched as I did the first.

Of course, I had my favorites; I loved William Powell’s Thin Man movies, adored W. C. Fields, and Laurel and Hardy; but my very best, all-time favorites movie stars were Sonja Henji and Carmen Miranda.

Sonja Henji could do nothing wrong in my eyes and Carmen Miranda, well, now, she was in a class all her own. Anyone who would dance around with a bowl of fruit on their head with utmost pride and dignity was #1 in my book.

Ultimately, along with Carmen Miranda I became interested in Cuba and its culture. Did you know that when sugarcane prices soared after World War I, scores of restaurants, mansions and casinos were built in and around Havana?

During the next four decades, vacationers flocked to Cuba for the beaches, casinos, exciting nightlife, and Cuba Libres. American touristas were returning home from Cuba with Cuban shirts, recipes for daiquiris and Havana cigars.

All this ended after the revolution led by Fidel Castro in 1959. But my infatuation with Cuba continued. Hundreds of thou­sands of Cubans left their beloved home and most of them settled in the U.S. There are now well over a million Cuban exiles in this country.

One of those exiles became the janitor of the building in which I lived as child. Manuel was as close to Carmen Miranda as I could get in my young years, and I treated him like a movie star. I gave him my comic books after I read them. He told me they helped him with his English. I’m sure they did because shezam and gadzooks became staples in his vo­cabulary.

Years later when I found myself in Amsterdam, I found a shop that sold pipes, tobacco, and cigars. I brought my fa­ther back a box of Havana cigars, something not available to U.S. cit­izens. The owner of the store took the cigars out of their original box and put them in another brand’s box, so customs wouldn’t confiscate them. My father treated them like gold and only smoked them on special occasions.

Cuban food reflects this Cuban spirit: a hearty appetite for en­joy­ing the sweetness and richness of life, and a respect for tradi­tion. The food also reflects the history of Cuba and the diverse groups of people who have inhabited that beautiful island, from the Spanish explorers, to the African slaves brought there to work the planta­tions for the Spaniards, to the Chinese laborers who replaced them.

Cuban cuisine is a melting pot of ingredients and cooking tech­niques. It is a cuisine of meat lovers: pork and beef dishes are fa­vored, and usually served with rice. Because the sea surrounds Cuba, there are also many delicious fish dishes. And because of the sugarcane crop, Cuban cuisine is often sweet as well as spicy. Sugar is added to many entrées and side dishes. Green vegetables and salads are rarely seen. Fried plantains (green starchy bananas), boniatos (Cuban sweet potatoes), and beans of all types are typical accompaniments at lunch and dinner.

Cuba Libre
There are varying stories circulated as to the origin of the Cuba Libre. The one I like is that it has its origins in the Spanish-American War at the turn of the century when American arrived in Cuba in large numbers. One afternoon, a group of off-duty soldiers from the U.S. Signal Corps were gathered in a bar in Havana when a captain came in and wanted his rum mixed with Coca-Cola and a wedge of lime. The other soldiers decided to give it a try and one of them raised his glass in a toast, “por Cuba libre!” in celebration of the newly freed Cuba. Later on, during the 1970s in the U.S., Cuban exiles would call the drink “La Mentirita” meaning a little lie referring a Cuba that is not free.

2 ounces rum
Juice of 1/2 lime
Coca-Cola

Pour lime juice into a highball glass over ice cubes. Add rum and fill with cola; stir and add a wedge of lime. Serves 1.


Batidos
If you can’t find mango sorbet, any tropical or citrus fruit sorbet will do.

6 ounces mango sorbet
3 ounces vanilla ice cream
1/2 cup chopped fresh mango, plus a mango slice for garnish
3/4 cup cold milk
1 to 2 tablespoons honey
Mint sprigs for garnish

Place all ingredients, except mint and mango slice, in a blender and blend until smooth. Pour into a tall glass and serve immediately. Garnish with a mango slice and mint sprig, if desired. Serves 1.