Isn’t it obvious why Soviets were so after Fidel? It’s the sandwich, stupid!
At Guantanamera, it was probably the best one I’ve ever had. First it was the bread. Fried to a perfect crisp, wafer thin, it was not just breaking at the bite but crackling of where the teeth touched. Then, there was pork and the way it pulled was so fine that nothing got dragged out of the sandwich past the bite. Finally, there was mustard — not strong, not meek, perfectly dominating without overpowering — it was simply saying: Hello, I’m the reason you’re here.
And there was Vaca Frita, a classic Cuban flank steak that has been boiled, shredded, marinated in garlicky-limey-orange juice, and pan-fried to a sizzling crisp perfection.
It was served with sautéed onions and Tostones con Mojo, aka fried green plantains with bright lime-and-garlic sauce, on the side.
Ceviche of shrimp, scallops, and squid marinated in lime juice preceded this carnivore extravaganza.
We also shared an order of crunchy and creamy Croquetas de Pollo, fried round fritters made of roux, mashed potatoes, and chicken.
It was definitely a great Cuban find with quite friendly warm vibes and attentive service in restaurant-packed Midtown Manhattan