From Mango Cuba to Prickly Pear America

Visiting an organic farm in the valley, we met the delightful young couple who ran it. They provided the best meal of the trip, by far. Seated in an outdoor area with a canopy and a gorgeous view overlooking a valley on a mild sunny day, we started off with what was billed as an “anti-stress” cocktail. Laced with rum, this drink was a delicious creamy concoction with pineapple, coconut, mint, basil, lemon grass, spearmint, cinnamon, and of course, rum. During the next few hours, we enjoyed lechón asado (roast pig), moros y cristianos (black beans and rice), ajicao (a stew of meat and vegetables), and a wide assortment of tasty side dishes. Most of them were lightly fried vegetables with various salsas and sauces. Delicious! Enthusiastic about their venture, they, too, represent the new Cuba. The young farmers told us they had spent several years preparing the ground and building vegetable gardens on a terraced hillside. They farm about 7 hectares or 17 acres. The soil is mostly clay so they had to build up the nutrients with organic compost made of worms, manure, vegetables and sawdust. To control insects, they rely on marigolds, hibiscus, calla lilies and sugar cane, he said. They also raise and sell chickens, pigs and geese. They grow such vegetables as broccoli, cauliflower and kale. But the young couple faces a problem also found in the U.S. Cubans have a penchant for fried foods and are unfamiliar with vegetables that have not been part of their traditional diet. Moreover, fresh fruits and vegetables are expensive. The typical Cuban cuisine relies on pork, fowl, and rice—cooked with few spices—and tropical fruits. For now, they cater to tourists and restaurants that attract Canadians and Europeans. Another busload of tourists was having lunch on the porch of the main house when we were there. Nevertheless, for this young couple to prosper, they will need a larger customer base that can afford and appreciate their produce. We also visited a tobacco farm with its small one-story house and a red tile roof that seemed right out of the early 1900s. An old upright piano nearly filled the tiny living room, which had rough-hewn walls and some dated photographs, probably of older generations of family members. Few modern conveniences were in view. After being served refreshments, we were ushered into a building with a thatched roof. Rows and rows of tobacco leaves were hanging to dry. An older worker with stained hands and a weather-worn face demonstrated how to roll a cigar. Two Chevrolet coupes from the 1950s sat out back. Overall, the farm reminded me of what Americans might find in the poorest parts of Appalachia. I didn’t know whether to be impressed by the fact this farm has been operating so long, saddened by the primitive conditions or simply to think of it as a living history tourist site.