Audio By Carbonatix
Considering Miami’s predominance of Cuban immigrants, it’s astonishing that truly wonderful, home-style, traditional Cuban meals are rare here. One theory as to why this is so: These days the chefs in the kitchens are mostly from other Latin American countries. To an experienced food professional, this statement is not objective — it’s pure prejudice. Regardless of nationality, any cook with an analytical mind, sharp taste buds, and a little humility can master the home cooking of any country, as long as said cook approaches it with enough true passion and respect to bother learning what makes it unique.
Another, equally subjective theory: No one can do these dishes like a Cuban ma or grandma. Judging by a recent Noche Buena dinner, I have to say Miami’s best Cuban eatery is the dining room of my friend Lydia’s mom — source of, among other goodies, yuca with the most mouthwatering mojo I’ve ever inhaled. What made the difference? The dish was not made with cost-cutting shortcuts, but with love and respect (in this case, with real fresh-squeezed sour orange juice instead of lime and OJ from a carton, plus lots of fresh garlic rather than the wimpy bottled kind).
Fortunately for the general public, the yuca frita served in Hialeah’s festive Las Delicias Restaurant, though quite different, rivals the mom’s in irresistibility. All smooth starch inside (without the plethora of nasty stick-in-your-throat fibrous strings that mar this root at many eateries), the thin-crusted chunks came with a knockout cilantro salsa packed with enough garlic to vampire-proof two dining companions and me for the year.
We hit this Las Delicias (not to be confused with Miami’s many other unrelated establishments of the same name) at the end of a frustrating all-afternoon hunt for a restaurant that served a Cuban sandwich my Cuban-American friend considered worthy of the name. After five strike-outs (one slathered in mayo, one with mozzarella, one on a chi-chi baguette, one pickle-free, one even pork-free), we found a winner here: quality ham, mild Swiss cheese, tart dill chips, genuine crusty-outside/soft-inside Cuban bread, and, most vital, juicy pork hand-cut from a roast instead of a gelatinous deli roll.
The same savory pork is available (every day, but on special for two bucks less during Saturday lunchtime) as a lechón asado entrée with two sides. Make one side moros (full name: moros y cristianos), a bay-leaf-and-oregano-tinged mix of fluffy white rice and soft black beans. An equally tempting entrée was picadillo (ground beef cooked in a housemade tomato-based sauce with peppers, garlic, and olives), which was flavorfully spiced, as Cuban food should be, without being spicy.
To start, warm, crisp, freshly made mariquitas de platano, drenched in tangy, garlicky homemade mojo, are a must — but must be eaten quickly. After a half-hour in the mojo pool, the few remaining plantain chips — unavoidable since one order would easily have served six — had wilted.
As for dessert, Las Delicias serves what are essentially seven forms of rich, sweet custard, including tres leches (really Nicaraguan, though served at virtually all Cuban eateries). “Next time,” said my friend, “let’s bring my mom.”
