by Ariel Taylor | So Havana has been my new home for a little more than a week and my cravings for home cooking are starting to grow.  The beer is cold and the rum cheap but they both lack sustenance (although I think I could probably live on mango juice).  So – at best – my diet has consisted largely of fresh fruits (bananas and oranges mostly), and – at worst – stale bread with dry tuna and something they call mustard (trust me, it’s not). Hunting for a decent meal has become a daily exercise in both patience and perseverance, often resulting in aimless wandering and broken Spanglish. But the other night, just as I was about to concede to yet another course of tuna sandwich, I overheard some fellow gringos raving about a Mexican-style paladar close by. I couldn’t resist…

Mi Jardin (My Garden) was, from the outside, nothing to slow your pace over. In fact, I had walked right by it a number of times without so much as glancing past the towering palms and into the yard beyond.  Only a small sign on the door disclosed its true identity as a paladar, and with only two tables visible outside it resembled more of a family home than a restaurant. Three generations of Cubans occupied this one-story house, which was of some consequence, as the paladar took over the front two rooms and garden patio.

My two friends and I were given menus and – after sipping freshly blended lemonade outside – we were led through a heavy metal door into a side room separated by just a thin wall from the rest of the house. At 6:30pm, we are the only customers. We overhear a quick end to the family’s dinner as they wash up and prepare to serve us. One look at the menu and we are all starving.

In a country where vegetables are served merely as garnishes, the sight of a entree salad on the menu was staggering. I was not disappointed when a full plate of avocados, vine tomatoes, greens and cucumbers arrived, although ‘dressing’ is not a concept they appeared to be comfortable with. Other items included a citrus guacamole with fresh heirloom tomatoes and steaming hot fried tortillas; red snapper with fresh dill and what can only be described as the spiciest salsa I have ever tasted; and lastly, a Cuban staple: white rice with black beans, all fried together in a salty stew.

Mi Jardin might not make any headlines in North American food publications (the decor is sparse, the service leisurely and the menu does leave something to be desired), but a quiet garden with a cool breeze and fresh ingredients on a humid evening in Havana is a welcome oasis from the throngs of the city beyond.

For now at least, my desire for home cooking has been subdued…

READ PART ONE OF CUBA LIBRE