From the moment you walk into the atmospheric new Spirit of Cuba, a restaurant, nightclub and cigar lounge on the west side, you'll be captivated by the spirit of its owner, Aleyda Hernandez.
It's located hard by the Desert Dodge dealership, on the busy corner of Sahara and Decatur, a palatial space that at one time was a Pizzeria Uno. Now it's all Cuba, thanks to palm trees, trellises on the ceiling, conga drums on the stage and the pulsating Cuban music (live and recorded) that echoes throughout the restaurant.
If ever there was a place that reflects the heart and soul of its owner, this is the one. "It has been my dream to open a Cuban restaurant for 30 years," said Aleyda, who came to this country in the '60s on President Lyndon Johnson's Freedom Flight program. Hernandez is an attractive woman of a certain age, but there is still fire in her belly, and on the stove.
The restaurant has been completely redone and bears no resemblance to the previous occupants whatsoever. The cigar lounge is filled with leather furniture and has red crates of Hatuey beer stacked to the ceiling, as well as a wall of fame signed by Hernandez' favorite customers.
The main dining room is furnished with granite tables and sturdy leather chairs, offset by a gallery's worth of framed photos depicting Cuba in the halcyon days before Fidel. Glass dividers add a cozy intimacy, and this month, Christmas lights have been strung from the trellises. On the weekends, Maestro Darius, a popular percussionist, leads a band playing dance music that has the expat Cuban population boogying until dawn.
The food here is blissfully authentic. Many recipes come from Aleyda's mother, Angelita, who is often found in the kitchen along with her daughter. Everyone starts with a basket of Cuban bread, French-style bread cut into thin rounds, toasted and spread with garlicky butter. The best libation is the mojito, a highball made with rum, cane juice and muddled mint leaves. Spirit of Cuba's version, tart and sweet all at once, may be the best drink in town.
Then there are tapas: egg rolls de pure de papas, stuffed with potato puree; deep-fried bananas with bacon; and my favorite, croquetas de jamon, delicate cylinders of deviled ham that melt in the mouth. There is also a classic tortilla Espanola, sort of a potato and egg omelet that is cut into wedges and eaten at room temp.
Come for lunch and you can have my favorite midday meal anywhere: sandwich Cubano alongside a bowl of sopa de frijoles negroes, a.k.a. black-bean soup. The Cuban sandwich is a grilled roll stuffed with roast pork, thinly sliced ham, cheese and a touch of mustard. The crucial ingredient is pierna de puerco, tender roast-pork leg shot through with lemon and garlic. With Cuban sandwiches, the quality of the pork basically determines the quality of the sandwich, and here it is superb.
(Prepare the Cuban sandwich on a sweet toasted roll with pickles, and it becomes a media noche, or midnight sandwich. You'll need one if you are planning to dance until dawn.)
Main dishes are hearty and filling, all served with either white rice or black beans or a combination of the two, known as either congri or Moros y Christianos, a pun meaning Moors and Christians. You'll also get a pile of fried bananas—a choice of the sweet ones called maduros or salty, called tostones. It just depends on the mood.
There are several main dishes not to miss. One is picadillo, lean ground beef, cooked potato and ripe olives, sautéed and served in a huge bowl. When spooned over white rice, it becomes an almost irresistible treat. Another is pollo asado al ajillo, garlicky, tender roasted chicken on the bone that is redolent of orange peel.
If fish is your thing, try pargo (snapper) in a powerful lemon-garlic sauce that cuts the rice like a knife. Pork lovers can't get the roast pork that graces the sandwiches by itself, but the same meat is used in a dish called masitas de puerco: chunks deep fried in batter after being infused with mojo, a spicy sauce. Once again, you'd better bring those Capezio tap shoes.
By way of dessert, there is Angelita's dulce de leche, a pudding made from reducing milk and sugar until the mixture has caramelized with intensity. There is also cascos de guava, halved guavas in syrup, served with cream cheese, because Aleyda isn't happy with the white cheese, or queso fresco, Cubans normally eat the guavas with. Don't look for the tres leches cake, though. "It isn't Cuban," she says.
After dinner, repair to the lounge for a cigar and a Cuban café con leche, a Caribbean version of the cappuccino. We may not have the humid weather and tropical temperament of Miami, much less Havana, but Hernandez has opened a restaurant any Cuban would be happy call home. If you want a real Montecristo, however, better smuggle it in yourself.