A local Cuban-American chain of family restaurants, is characterized by Cuban country charm and a menu that eggs you on to order in Spanish with hilarious phonetic instructions
Ay, caramba, the nostalgia of being Cuban.
It's everywhere these days.
Used to be that if you wanted to eat a home-like meal, you had to travel to Little Havana or Hialeah. But no more. Cuban restaurants are popping up allover South Florida and every restaurateur has a similar strategy: Dip into the wistful memories of the homeland lost.
Now to the western reaches of Kendall, to a corner of Town & Country Mall, comes Casavana Family Restaurant with its delightful Old Cuba decor, kicked upseveral notches at this newest franchise. Surely, all of Sergio's locations -on Coral Way, Bird Road and in the Metrozoo area - are characterized by Cubancountry charm and a menu that eggs you on to order in Spanish with hilariousphonetic instructions.
But this decor is special. Booths are topped with colonial roofs, and ontop of them sit collections of memorabilia. Check out the two-tone mambo kingshoes, the taburetes, chairs typical of peasant homes, and the kerosene lamps.
A fruit stand sits in the middle of the dining room. A granizado cart likethe ones vendors pushed around town selling juice-flavored ice balls sportsbig, bold old-fashioned lottery numbers (2811 and 36805 in case you want toplay them in Florida). And a ceramic plaque that reads: ``368 kilometros deMiami a la Habana Vieja.''
On weekends, the restaurant is packed.
The service is efficient and cordial, except for the peccadilloes of toomuch success. Our party was seated in the smoking section without being askedif that was OK and when we realized it, it was too late. And we weren't givensmall plates to accompany dishes we ordered to share as appetizers. That'sperhaps because there are no appetizers per se on the menu - only ``sidedishes'' that work just as well as starters.
Try mariquitas! mariquitas! ($2.50 for a generous plateful), sliced greenplantains fried and served with a delicious garlic-pepper sauce bursting withflavor. Sample the tamal en hoja ($1.75), corn meal stuffed with tender porkchunks, wrapped in a corn husk, boiled and garnished with onions touched by amojo-like sofrito taste. What makes this one special is its light but tastefultexture.
But forgo the croquetas (70 cents each), which are fun to pronounce (crowkay tas, as Sergio instructs), but were bland. Do indulge in a mamey fruitshake ($2.50).
Another interesting side is the papa rellena (a mere 99 cents), a mashedpotatoes ball stuffed with ground beef, breaded and fried. At our table, itlaunched a conversation of how we fought as kids to be the one who got to openthe extra papa rellenas (it wasn't enough to just do your own). The big thrillwas getting to call out, ``Domingu?n, despierta, Domingu?n!'' (Domingu?n,wake up), our family ritual before slicing the papa rellena. Don't ask us whoDomingu?n was. Nobody in the family remembers. The consensus was that mamimade it up to get us to eat.
From the entrees, the breaded chicken ($6.95) plate, a plump breast servedwith white rice and maduro plantains (you can substitute with tostones orfries), turned out to be the best pick. The juicy, charbroiled churrasco steak($9.95) and the traditional palomilla steak ($6.50 with white rice and beans,$5.50 with fries) were satisfactory renditions, but not cooked as well-done asrequested.
Skip the fish. Someone must have forgotten to marinate our grilled snapperfillet ($7.95) and the lime wedge couldn't fix it. Instead, swing to theversatile sandwich side of the menu, which includes items you don't seeelsewhere, like the se?or choripan ($4.49), sliced Spanish sausage, grilledand served on toasted Cuban bread.
If you can stand any more food, order a creamy arroz con leche ($1.95), astaple Cuban dessert allegedly concocted by a cook who poured milk into riceby mistake. Surely, someone at your table will remember the old nursery rhyme:``Arroz con leche se quiere casar con una viudita de la capital.'' Don't evenbother with the translation. Not even Sergio can tackle this one. Literally,it means that arroz con leche, the dessert, wants to marry a widow from thecapital city.
Call it poetic license. Sometimes nostalgia is tough to explain.