90 Miles Munch

The first ever restaurant review to grace these pages.

Hallelujah, right?

Ok, so I'm not exactly a food critic. However, this isn't exactly your typical restaurant review.

I like this Cuban joint in my 'hood quite a bit, called 90 Miles Cuban Cafe. I seem to be making the block and a half walk quite regularly, usually in the late morning/early afternoon.

The restaurant is small, with only a dozen or so bar stools lining the walls of the place. It's quaint and convivial, airy and bright, the walls adorned with old newspaper clippings and ads and fliers from Cuba circa 1950. They make an excellent cafe con leche and an even better guava and cheese empanada, the pastry being crisp and light. Yum.

The actual (non-dessert) food is great too. The house specialty is the Cubano sandwich. It's basically a panini with ham and pork (yes, I know that ham is pork, as well, so just stop right there), melted cheese, pickle, onion, and mustard, and garnished with home made plantain chips.

Real Cuban food.

Delicious.

(Why, yes, another pastry DOES sound good , thanks.)

What's really nice about this place, though, are the people who run the joint, Alberto and Christine, a very cool and hospitable couple. It's obvious that they love the enterprise they've built and that they are very genuine in terms of delivering something that is excellent, as well as unique. They also finish every conversation/transaction with, "Thank you. See you tomorrow."

There's a sticker on the cash register saying the same thing. Funny.

Cuba is a place I've always wanted to visit. Obviously, as an American, we are verboten from visiting those commies. For some reason, the U.S. still hates and fears the tiny island nation, even though the rest of the western world considers Cuba an extremely attractive tourist destination (the value of Cuban currency is based on the Euro and not U.S. dollars any more, by the way).

Castro has been rubbing the proverbial egg in the face of America since the revolution.

And he's still in charge, despite all of the States' best efforts to stop him.

Talk about having a good run of it.

One day, sooner rather than later, I'll be taking the flight from Negril to Havana during my annual Carribean Christmas romp (the Cubans, after all, DO want us there.) It takes relatively no time to get there, and you can do it with relatively little fear of getting caught by our ever-so-watchful government.

(They should fear us. Have I said that lately?)

Havana is supposed to be happenin' and hoppin'. A city full of life and living. There's live music and dancing and singing and eating and drinking and swinging from the chandeliers all night long. It's one of the last places in the world, really, where you can still go out and have fun at all hours.

Is there any place left to hear live music all night long?

See you tomorrow.

So it goes...