Aside from some enclaves in deep Miami, there's never been any doubt about the African side of Cuba. It sings forth in the rhythms of rumba and peeks from behind Catholic saints in religious processions and Lucumi ceremonies. It certainly turns up in the cooking pots in all corners of the island and wherever its food is transported. I'm used to having my comidas cubanas at places with stools and counters or Formica tables and names like Versailles and Metropol, places where guayaberas are de rigueur and it's always 1958. But every once and a while I head to Gotham's venerable Cuban for some pig and... More >>>