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David with a grouper he speared snorkelling in the Archipielago de los Jardines de la Reina on the south coast of Cuba. On our visit to Cuba's north coast, fresh conch and lobster had Eileen smiling at first ... until we ran out of everything else |
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Foraging for food in Cuba
Crocodiles and contraband potatoes
Text and photos
By David Allester and Eileen Quinn
We were anchored off Pasa Boca Chica, an uninhabited inlet about midway along Cuba's north coast. It had been three weeks since we had visited a settlement on the mainland and it was David's day for galley duty. He turned to Eileen and asked, "Would you like rice with your fish tonight?"
"We had rice and fish last night," Eileen observed, "in fact, we've had rice and fish for five nights in a row."
David looked at the single wrinkled potato in the string hammock. "How about mashed potatoes?" he suggested. "We can supplement this sad spud with some of the dried potato flakes we've been carrying around forever."
Eileen dropped the book she was reading. "Dried potato flakes? You must be joking. We bought them to survive emergencies, like when we're shipwrecked on a deserted isle somewhere. You don't eat dried potato flakes unless you're starving."
David hesitated. "Okay, forget the potatoes. We'll have rice, but instead of the fish we could try some of that nice canned corned beef that's in the starboard locker."
"Canned corned beef?" Eileen's eyes widened in horror. "No, no! Anything but the canned corned beef!"
That night our forlorn feast ended up being rice and fish accompanied by canned green beans. Dessert was canned peaches. True, we weren't starving, so the potato flakes remained untested and the dreaded canned corned beef stayed in the locker. But crew morale was down. While washing up, Eileen was heard muttering something about trading our sailboat Little Gidding for a head of lettuce if a better provisioned boat happened to come over the horizon ....
One of the challenges of cruising Cuba is finding food. We had vacationed in Cuban tourist resorts a couple of times before our first visit by boat to the country. The meals in the resorts weren't too exciting, but there was always lots to eat. Cuba's economy is largely based on agriculture, so you would expect food to be available. And it is available - for the tourist resorts and for the export market, that is. Four years ago, when we arrived in Little Gidding for a two month cruise of the south coast, the Cuba we experienced was entirely different from the island we knew from previous fun-in-the-sun holiday tours. Now that we were outside of the tourist hotels, we encountered the same food shortages that daily confront the majority of the Cuban population. More recently, we experienced similar shortages when we cruised the island's north coast.
Rest assured you probably won't starve in Cuba. Assuming you're not a vegetarian or allergic to seafood, being on a boat gives you a distinct advantage when it comes to obtaining protein. You can get your own. Nowhere else in the Caribbean have we encountered such bountiful waters. Armed with a pole spear, David can go for a brief snorkel and count on coming back with more than enough fish or lobster for dinner. Eileen is particularly adept at finding conch. While wading in the shallows looking for shells, she'll routinely gather her limit of live conch. When we're underway in deep water, we'll often snag a tuna or mahi mahi on the trolling line we have cleated off our stern quarter.
For those who are a bit squeamish about skewering their supper while it's still alive and writhing, there are plenty of Cuban fishermen who will do it for you. Especially on the south coast, we often shared an anchorage with at least one local fishing boat. The fishermen see very few foreigners and always seemed eager to drop by and socialize -- typically with a bag of shrimp or fish or lobster in hand. After several such occasions, our biggest problem was refusing our visitors' largesse without insulting them; our fridge wasn't big enough for all the incoming gifts.
A lobster-only diet will wreak havoc with your cholesterol levels; sooner or later you'll want to acquire a few items from the other major food groups. Don't count on finding your favourite breakfast cereal in a local store. In fact, don't count on finding anything remotely resembling a North American supermarket. Just about everything that's imported into Cuba is scarce, including fuel, consumer goods, and medical and school supplies, as well as speciality foods. The Cuban government blames the shortages on the US trade embargo; the American government and ex-patriot Cuban community claim they're due to a grossly mismanaged centralized economy. The truth probably lies somewhere in between. For the visiting boater who must have a bowl of frosted flakes every morning, it means stocking up before leaving for Cuba.
Cuban families are issued ration books for purchasing basic foodstuffs at government stores, things like milk, bread, rice, beans, and eggs (the amount varies with the family size and the number of children). For a Cuban with a ration card, these items cost next to nothing. For a foreigner without a ration card, they're simply unavailable outside of special "dollar" stores. The dollar stores were originally intended only for tourists, but now that some Cubans have access to American currency (usually through working in tourist settings), wealthier Cubans also shop there for non-rationed goods. The prices are high and the selection isn't great, but most essential stuff is available in one form or another if you can afford it.
In all the Cuban towns we've visited there is now an alternative to the expensive dollar stores. Since the mid-1990's, farmers have been allowed to sell a small portion of their production in local markets (the rest goes to the state for distribution). They usually do a brisk business because the typical family finds that it can't survive on ration cards alone. The good news is that you can get great deals on fresh produce in the farmers' markets. The bad news is that they might be selling only garlic and bananas on the day you're there. Best to buy whatever is available and hope that the next market you visit will have some of the other things you need.
The market in Santa Marta -- a neighbourhood about 15 minutes' walk from the Darsena marina in Varadero -- is among the best we've visited. This past spring, one of the marina's long term residents, Canadian Debbie Armstrong on the sloop La Vida Dulce, took us there and showed us the ropes. At the going exchange rate, oranges cost the equivalent of two cents US each, green bell peppers were four cents each, and tomatoes were six cents a pound. Eileen went wild and in no time our backpacks were bulging with produce.
David questioned the large watermelon that she loaded into HIS pack. "At eight cents a pound, it's a great deal," she insisted. "Only if you discount the costs of a hernia operation," David countered.
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Eileen went wild at the farmers' market in Santa Marta |
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The only item we couldn't find was potatoes. Debbie explained that, for some unknown reason, potatoes weren't permitted to be sold in the public market, perhaps because they were in big demand in the tourist restaurants. She made some discreet inquiries and learned that "Guido" had potatoes. Guido turned out to be a nervous little man who suddenly appeared out of the crowd with a five pound bag of potatoes, took a dollar out of our hands, and just as quickly disappeared. "Put the potatoes in your backpack," Debbie whispered. We furtively complied, worrying what our families back home would think when they saw banner headlines announcing, "Canadian Couple Detained In Cuba For Illegal Trafficking In Potatoes".
An alternative to buying your own food and preparing it is to eat out at a Cuban restaurant. Don't expect haute cuisine; even at the expensive tourist resorts, the meals are often bland. Hot spices and elaborate sauces have never been part of the culinary scene in Cuba. Creativity is further hampered by the scarcity of anything but the most basic ingredients. The no frills national cooking that results is called cocina criolla (Creole kitchen). But if it's essentially home-cooking that's on offer, there's no need to pay a lot at a dreary state-run cafeteria. You can eat just as well, and often less expensively, in the cook's own kitchen.
Since 1995, home operated cafes called paladars have offered an alternative to uninspiring government restaurants. Many paladars are known only by word of mouth and the daily menu is whatever the family happens to have on hand. Most of the paladars we've visited were nothing more than private homes where the owner had invested in a few more kitchen chairs and some additional cutlery and dishes. As one of the few inroads of private enterprise allowed in the state dominated economy, they are closely regulated and heavily taxed. This means they are often operated "underground". They've given some Cubans access to hard currency formerly denied them. A typical meal of fried chicken or pork accompanied with fried plantain, rice, and salad costs around five dollars.
We've had little trouble finding paladars. Actually, they've usually found us. As gringo tourists, we're easy targets for budding entrepreneurs. When walking in a town's main square or near any of the official tourist attractions, we've fielded numerous offers for taxi rides, hand-rolled cigars, and comida. Comida (food) has inevitably meant a paladar.
In Nueva Gerona, the principal city on Isla Juventud, we were led to a paladar located a half dozen blocks north of Parque Central. It turned out to be a two-bedroom apartment in a four-story apartment complex. The woman who welcomed us at the door said she would cook a local speciality for us. Her huge smile won us over. We agreed to come back in an hour to give her time to prepare the meal.
When we returned after a bit of sightseeing, the apartment was full of savoury aromas. On the dining room table platters were heaped high with salad, steamed rice, and fried sweet potato. After we were seated, our cook, Clara, ceremoniously brought out the main course. The smiles froze on our faces as we stared at the steaming pile of vertebrae she placed before us. It looked like a pale version of oxtail stew. We timidly inquired what the main ingredient was. Clara could barely contain herself. "Crocodillo!" she proudly announced.
OOPS! Whispering in English, we quickly conferred on the implications of devouring an endangered species. It was pretty obvious this particular crocodile's days were done and no amount of hand wringing was going to bring him back to life. We ate. Actually, it tasted pretty good -- sort of like fishy chicken.
Back at the marina, we asked the manager about the status of crocodiles on the island. He assured us that of the three types found on Juventud, two were quite common and in no need of protection. That information helped assuage our lingering guilt feelings. Still, we swore to each other that the next time we'd ask more questions. |
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