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Published: August 18th 2014
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A Comer (a reflection by Stan)
“A comer!” It’s the call to the table – “let’s eat!” Or you can say “al ataque,” that is, “dig in.” There’s so much to write about the Cuban culture of food, I’ll need several blogs. Using the “farm to fork” model, I’ll start with the fork, the actual meals we’re enjoying, and work my way back in future blogs to talk about food prep, shopping, and Cuban agriculture, all of which provide fascinating contrasts to the American food culture.
To begin with, breakfast is simple, a piece of bread and coffee. Lunch consists of leftovers from the night before, from the comida, the dinner meal, the big meal of the day. I’ll try and describe a “dream comida” – what the typical fare might be for the a-typical family with ample resources. The dream comida consists of 5 items: rice, beans, a meat, a vianda, and a vegetable. The meat will be either pork or chicken, as beef and fish are very hard to come by. Whenever I ask someone to define “vianda,” they always just list the foods in that group. From their list I’ve come to
the conclusion that the definition of “vianda” is “tan food”, as it includes any of the root vegetables like potatoes, yucca, melanga, boñato, juajui, as well as squash and plantains. The vianda is either fried (juajui makes for great homemade potato chips), or stewed, with mojito on top (not the cocktail; mojito also refers to a topping made of sauteed garlic and onions, which for Kim is something of a cocktail). The vegetable will be seasonal, right now it’s time for avocados (much bigger and much better than what we have in our stores), or cucumbers, or cabbage, or green beans. The occasional sweet treat is worth mentioning, as well, (in a country who’s main ag product is sugar cane, there are a lot of sweet treats), which might consist of churros or boñuelos or a saucer of marmalade (guayava or mango), with a bit of cheese on top. For me, you can’t beat the fresh fruit for sweet treats; a glass of fresh-squeezed jugo de piña (pineapple) is to die for, as is a bowl of fresh mango, which is so sweet it’s like eating the pie filling from Mama’s peach cobbler.
Given the scrumptious nature
of the fresh tropical fruits and veggies and slow-cooked pork, I’m tempted to say that we’re living in a paradise. Few people here would agree with that description, though, because very few enjoy that dream comida. The Cuban food stamp program, which everyone uses, provides the staples for about half a month. After divvying up the $10 to $40 monthly salary among all the other bills and expenses (soap, utilities, etc) there’s not much left for groceries (unless you have access to the tourist trade or hospitality industry, whose tips add greatly to the salary). So there’s a lot of invention, improvisation, bartering, and engagement in the underground economy to make ends meet. And there’s a lot of anxiety over food insecurity. This often becomes the subject of table conversation, as our Cuban friends try and help us understand what the daily struggle feels like. The conversations vary, depending on the reference point the person is using for a contrast to this daily fare. Some talk about the horrors of the 90s, Cuba’s “Special Period” after the fall of the Soviet Union, when their economy collapsed and real hunger abounded. One friend talked about how he would never be able
to eat cabbage again, because that’s about all he ate for long stretches during that decade. Another friend said the same thing about caldosa (Cuba’s version of “stone soup”). Another friend talked reverently about the platano burro (the small green plantain) that saved many lives during that period, because it was available when nothing else was. Families cooked for those ten years without the benefit of cooking oil, and often had to improvise for the heating source. One friend lamented the loss of her sister, who had tried to cook using gasoline when there was no other energy source, and died in the resulting explosion/fire.
Others, especially those in the countryside far removed from Havana, use the pre-revolution experience of the 40s and 50s as their frame of reference, a time when peasant life was incredibly cruel and demanding. For these folks, having a hand-pumped well in the backyard and hypo-cloride tablets to purify the water is a wonderful blessing, because they contrast it with their childhood experiences of having to walk long distances to haul back contaminated river water in buckets. That was a time of high infant mortality and widespread disease from malnutrition in the peasant communities, so having the present government subsidy for their bread (and milk for the children and elderly) is a source of great pride.
On the other end of the spectrum, some Cubans are prone to contrast today’s diet with what they know their relatives are eating in Miami. Comparing the daily rice and beans with the all-you-can-eat buffet and endless choice of meals, especially when those meals include options for fish and beef, which are highly regulated/prohibited for Cuban citizens, is a great source of frustration. A running joke is the corner meat market that offers “pollo por pescado” on Fridays (chicken for fish). When you take all these conversations together, and realize the underlying fear of people who remember hunger and who wonder when the next crisis might hit or when the infrastructure might completely fail, you realize that you are in a culture skating along a thin edge, with a tropical paradise on one side and the hell of hunger on the other.
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Penny Hazen
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A Comer
Eye opening, Thanks.