I regret that it's taken me a very long time to update The Cortadito. I haven't even finished telling you about my Viernes Culturales evening and already the Calle Ocho Festival has come and passed. I have so much to tell you about that long and exciting day!
Ok, so why the hiatus? It has a lot to do with a conference I attended back in February: The Knight Foundation's 2012 Media Learning Seminar. This annual gathering, which took place at the Intercontinental Hotel in downtown Miami, is primarily for community foundations interested in funding journalism-related projects. This is the second year I've attended, and I'm not sure how I got on the invite list, but I'm not complaining!
Creative ideas percolated in my head as I listened to the speakers, who included Eli Pariser (founder of Moveon.org) and Ethan Zuckerman, director of the MIT Center for Civic Media and the founder of Global Voices (see a summary of Ethan's comments here).
Ethan opened his presentation using the metaphor of the tour guide to describe how journalists, including citizen journalists, can help the public navigate community news and information. “Our responsibility to people who care about our communities," he said, "is listening to the broader conversations and putting them together in a way that people can listen to them."
I was sitting next to Rahul Bhargava of MIT's Civic Media Lab, and across from Leo Burd of the Civic Media Lab, and both glanced at me with a smile when Ethan continued to reference the idea of a "guide." Both of them knew about LittleHavanaGuide, and Rahul had used it to suggest places for his wife and child to visit during his time at the conference!
The conference was focusing on journalism, and yet LittleHavanaGuide was not designed to offer regular articles as an online newspaper or magazine would; in fact it is a bit difficult to update content because of the overall structure of the site. Fueled with too much coffee and plenty of inspiration, I began scribbling ideas in my notebook.
I continued to ponder the journalism possibilities for LittleHavanaGuide while taking the MetroMover back to Calle Ocho and then walking up the street to one of my favorite spots, Tinta y Cafe. As I sipped on a cortadito, I thought through what I had learned at the conference. I wondered how LHG could incorporate some of the multimedia tools I'd been introduced to, like VoIP Drupal (Leo from MIT had invented it).
VoIP Drupal allows for audio commentary to show up on a map, and to be added by phone. People can make commentary about a specific place leaving a voicemail message, and their comments show up on a website (as an audio file). Here is an example of a local multimedia tour project made possible with VoIP Drupal. This project enables people to make comments about a place as it was in the past, as it is now, and as they hope it will be in the future.
How could I create a mapping project like this for Little Havana?
I wondered about ways to easily add new stories to LHG every month, and for those stories to be searchable and connected to other content on the site. Rahul had suggested that I turn much of my content into an e-guide or e-guides, which makes a lot of sense. If people are looking at my site from a portable device, they might want to access the information all at once with a simple download instead of having to wait for pages to load. They they could peruse the information at their convenience.
Even if I couldn't add VoIP Drupal right away, I could at least incorporate maps into my stories. Ethan Zuckerman himself referred me to a new project, currently in Beta (not open to the general public), that allows people to add "notes" to particular places on a GoogleMap. He suggested I sign up to be part of the Beta.
I've signed up, and am eagerly anticipating the moment when I can incorporate these maps into my stories. Imagine an article that would allow you to post notes related to places that have a connection to the story? Pretty cool stuff, I think.
Hmmm ... and what about creating content in Spanish, and in print? I had so much to think about. I needed some time just to reflect and let my head stop spinning.
As such, I've been something of a hermit for the past months, working on new designs, talking with my programmer, listening to the needs and concerns of locals and visitors. The good news? The site WILL be going through a redesign and it should be ready by the end of April!
In the meantime, I'll do my best to keep updating LHG, but please understand if it's a little under-updated as I work on preparing the content for the new site. I welcome your own comments about how I can improve LHG. It's not too late!
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Saturday, March 3, 2012
How I Experience Viernes Culturales - Part 2
Ok, so time to continue my story from Part 1.
The Survey
It was a little past 8 pm. As I mentioned in the first part of my account, I missed the official unveiling of the mural and the final dance performance because I was still engaged in conversation with friends.
I'd also been busy responding to the questions of a young man who was asking festival-goers to fill out a survey.
"Of course I'll fill it out!" I said.
Then a lightbulb went off in my head and I asked, "Are you an ... intern with Viernes Culturales?"
"Well, actually I'm a student at FIU ..."
It was all I the information I needed.
"So YOU are from the fraternity that stole our rooster! I was really mad about your antic but I'm so grateful you're doing community service now. That's fantastic. What do you think about Viernes Culturales?"
"I love it!" he said, his face brightening. "I really like this festival. Everyone's so nice. I had no idea so many people come out for this." We continued our conversation, and I was impressed by the student's maturity and friendliness.
Over and over again I mentioned how glad I was that he and his fraternity brothers were following through with community service. (Their fraternity "borrowed" one of Little Havana's popular rooster sculptures last year, as part of a prank.)
Impromptu Drumming on the Sidewalk
After completing the survey, I noticed the sounds of drumming. I walked over to the sidewalk in front of Cubaocho, where two musicians used sticks to pound big drums (much wider than conga drums) strapped around their necks. "Are these Uruguayan drums," I wondered?
Actually, I should say I saw three musicians, because Regla Cumbá stood by and was playing the claves, although her true instrument is her phenomenal voice. As always, she carried herself with regal grace, wearing a solid black, flowing dress as well as a black headwrap that crowned her long bronze-colored braids.
A Stop at Azucar
I decided it was time to move on to the rumba that always takes place up the street, but first I wanted to stop in and say "Hi" to Suzy Batlle at her charming ice cream shop, Azucar, which I've written about in previous blog posts.
She was there, of course, and one of her customers was Robert Parente, a board member of Viernes Culturales and a professional photographer whose work can be found in Edible South Florida, a local magazine that covers the region's local food scene. Suzy recently joined the board of Viernes Culturales, too!
I wasn't hungry at the moment, but my usual Viernes Culturales custom is to treat myself to an ice cream cone at Azucar. My favorites include the lemon sorbet, mamey, mango and ... there are so many more! All made from scratch, from the best ingredients.
I continued walking up Calle Ocho when I saw one of my friends, Julio Cesar Rodriguez, walking in the same direction. Julio Cesar is a local "sonero" originally from Santiago de Cuba, on the Eastern end of Cuba. His hometown is also the birthplace of Cuban son, the musical style in which he specializes.
Together we walked up the street. When I approached the Cuban restaurant El Cristo, I saw the owner Jose Zelaya chatting with two tourists sitting at one of the tables outside. There were actually three patrons at the table, if you included the infant in the mother's arms.
"This is really great! It's our first time here," said the father at the table. "The food here is really good."
"I know," I said. "Welcome to Little Havana!" I said.
Ready ... to Rumba?
We continued on, past I Love Calle Ocho, an intimate, art-filled spot only open on Fridays and Saturdays. The woman-owned business hosts some terrific local groups (Cuban "feeling" music, boleros, jazz, etc.).
We'd made it to Top Cigars for the rumba. No one was playing dominos tonight, which was surprising, and the place was still relatively empty. But the three drummers sat on the cigar shop's tiny stage, playing batá drums.
As they carried forth their rhythms and in call and response sang songs honoring particular Orisha, they attracted a crowd that soon packed the shop and also swelled in size along the sidewalk, gazing through the shop's windows. One of the drummers, Yosvanny, also happens to be one of the best male dancers of Afro-Cuban dance in Miami, too.
Then they switched to rumba, abandoning the batá drums to play instead congas, los palitos (literally, "the sticks"), and sometimes the cajón, a wooden box that is also used in flamenco music. A talented local percussionist who plays at Cubaocho nearby stopped by and joined in on the claves (two sticks struck together to form the fundamental rhythm). Julio Cesar was invited to sing one a rumba, and he did. Rumba is participatory.
Regla herself had appeared in the crowd and was now joining me and others in dancing to the rumba. Rumba, you should know, is the foundation of salsa and many other popular dance styles. It's hard not to dance when you hear its addictive rhythms, rooted in both African and Spanish (flamenco) music.
Galleries
When the musicians took their break, I left the shop to continue to Futurama, where I knew I'd run into more friends. Futurama is a creative incubator in the neighborhood, and houses the offices of my friends and local developers Bill Fuller and Martin Pinilla (the building's owners), as well as a handful of mini art studios/galleries and the Viernes Culturales office!
The place was packed, and by looking through the building's windows I could see that several musicians had just finished their set. Bill Fuller stepped outside and we chatted for awhile, and I had a chance to meet and greet the other FIU fraternity brothers who were helping with the surveys.
I spotted Marco Incer, owner of Art District Cigars, standing outside as well. "Hey Corinna, stop by sometime! You know you're always welcome." Marco's a really nice guy. I promised to do so. Often I step into the other galleries across the street from Futurama but tonight I decided to head straight over to Art District Cigars, even though my recent chest cold made me wary of cigar smoke.
It wasn't smoky at all, however. Art District Cigars is a hybrid space: a cigar shop (with a walk-in humidor), a full bar, live music on certain nights and for special events, and lots of comfortable seats for conversation or smoking that favorite maduro or corona. I saw Danny again, greeted Marco and his wife, and then caught the wiff of a freshly lit cigar. Sorry, Marco -- time to leave!
I moved on to to the Spanish restaurant Casa Panza Cafe, where huge platters of paella had been set up on a table outside, tempting people to step inside. Some patrons sat at small outdoor tables, others sat in a large front room where flameno performances often take place, and still others sat in a small tavern-like space of the restaurant.
In the smaller, tavern-like area (to the right of the entrance), bone-in serrano ham sat in its holder on the bar counter, near a freshly prepared pitcher of sangria.
My friend Julio Cesar was talking to Regla Cumbá at the bar; they had both just finished their plates of paella. Regla Cumbá regularly performs at Casa Panza. Julio Cesar had to leave to prepare for his own performance at Cubaocho, so Regla and I stayed and talked for a little while.
I wanted to catch the Cubaocho performance so I departed from Casa Panza and headed back down Calle Ocho. A number of people were standing in front of Alfaro's, a nightclub with plenty of tables and a small stage.
As always, a large crowd had gathered on the corner of 16th Avenue and Calle Ocho, next to El Pub, to see a salsa singer (performing karaoke style) and daring dancers. It made me wonder: why did so few people simply want to watch, and not participate?
The crowd had also completely hidden the roosters from view: two of the large rooster sculptures that stand sentry at the corner, one of which had been the victim of the fraternity antic last year.
Time for a cafecito! I stood at the cafeteria window of El Pub to order a cafecito, and there was the Santera I've seen at dozens of other Viernes Culturales celebrations. She is always dressed in plenty of yellow, wears her sacred beaded necklaces, and has no qualms about dancing in front of others. I love her boldness! She was ordering me a colada and offered me a tiny cup from it: a cafecito. Typical neighborliness here in Little Havana.
It turns out she was planning to go to Cubaocho, too, so we began walking down the sidewalk together.
To be continued!!! See part 3 of this Viernes Culturales adventure. Hopefully I will get some video up on this and all my Viernes Culturales blog posts soon, so stay posted.
 |
| l-r: Ruben Abella, Julio Cesar Rodriguez and the FIU student |
It was a little past 8 pm. As I mentioned in the first part of my account, I missed the official unveiling of the mural and the final dance performance because I was still engaged in conversation with friends.
I'd also been busy responding to the questions of a young man who was asking festival-goers to fill out a survey.
"Of course I'll fill it out!" I said.
Then a lightbulb went off in my head and I asked, "Are you an ... intern with Viernes Culturales?"
"Well, actually I'm a student at FIU ..."
It was all I the information I needed.
"So YOU are from the fraternity that stole our rooster! I was really mad about your antic but I'm so grateful you're doing community service now. That's fantastic. What do you think about Viernes Culturales?"
"I love it!" he said, his face brightening. "I really like this festival. Everyone's so nice. I had no idea so many people come out for this." We continued our conversation, and I was impressed by the student's maturity and friendliness.
Over and over again I mentioned how glad I was that he and his fraternity brothers were following through with community service. (Their fraternity "borrowed" one of Little Havana's popular rooster sculptures last year, as part of a prank.)
After completing the survey, I noticed the sounds of drumming. I walked over to the sidewalk in front of Cubaocho, where two musicians used sticks to pound big drums (much wider than conga drums) strapped around their necks. "Are these Uruguayan drums," I wondered?
Actually, I should say I saw three musicians, because Regla Cumbá stood by and was playing the claves, although her true instrument is her phenomenal voice. As always, she carried herself with regal grace, wearing a solid black, flowing dress as well as a black headwrap that crowned her long bronze-colored braids.
A Stop at Azucar
 |
| Robert Parente & Suzy Batlle |
She was there, of course, and one of her customers was Robert Parente, a board member of Viernes Culturales and a professional photographer whose work can be found in Edible South Florida, a local magazine that covers the region's local food scene. Suzy recently joined the board of Viernes Culturales, too!
I wasn't hungry at the moment, but my usual Viernes Culturales custom is to treat myself to an ice cream cone at Azucar. My favorites include the lemon sorbet, mamey, mango and ... there are so many more! All made from scratch, from the best ingredients.
 |
| The outdoor patio at El Cristo |
Together we walked up the street. When I approached the Cuban restaurant El Cristo, I saw the owner Jose Zelaya chatting with two tourists sitting at one of the tables outside. There were actually three patrons at the table, if you included the infant in the mother's arms.
"This is really great! It's our first time here," said the father at the table. "The food here is really good."
"I know," I said. "Welcome to Little Havana!" I said.
Ready ... to Rumba?
 |
| Drummers playing batá drums in Top Cigars |
We'd made it to Top Cigars for the rumba. No one was playing dominos tonight, which was surprising, and the place was still relatively empty. But the three drummers sat on the cigar shop's tiny stage, playing batá drums.
As they carried forth their rhythms and in call and response sang songs honoring particular Orisha, they attracted a crowd that soon packed the shop and also swelled in size along the sidewalk, gazing through the shop's windows. One of the drummers, Yosvanny, also happens to be one of the best male dancers of Afro-Cuban dance in Miami, too.
Then they switched to rumba, abandoning the batá drums to play instead congas, los palitos (literally, "the sticks"), and sometimes the cajón, a wooden box that is also used in flamenco music. A talented local percussionist who plays at Cubaocho nearby stopped by and joined in on the claves (two sticks struck together to form the fundamental rhythm). Julio Cesar was invited to sing one a rumba, and he did. Rumba is participatory.
Regla herself had appeared in the crowd and was now joining me and others in dancing to the rumba. Rumba, you should know, is the foundation of salsa and many other popular dance styles. It's hard not to dance when you hear its addictive rhythms, rooted in both African and Spanish (flamenco) music.
Galleries
 |
| Inside Futurama |
The place was packed, and by looking through the building's windows I could see that several musicians had just finished their set. Bill Fuller stepped outside and we chatted for awhile, and I had a chance to meet and greet the other FIU fraternity brothers who were helping with the surveys.
It wasn't smoky at all, however. Art District Cigars is a hybrid space: a cigar shop (with a walk-in humidor), a full bar, live music on certain nights and for special events, and lots of comfortable seats for conversation or smoking that favorite maduro or corona. I saw Danny again, greeted Marco and his wife, and then caught the wiff of a freshly lit cigar. Sorry, Marco -- time to leave!
 |
| Regla Cumbá |
In the smaller, tavern-like area (to the right of the entrance), bone-in serrano ham sat in its holder on the bar counter, near a freshly prepared pitcher of sangria.
My friend Julio Cesar was talking to Regla Cumbá at the bar; they had both just finished their plates of paella. Regla Cumbá regularly performs at Casa Panza. Julio Cesar had to leave to prepare for his own performance at Cubaocho, so Regla and I stayed and talked for a little while.
I wanted to catch the Cubaocho performance so I departed from Casa Panza and headed back down Calle Ocho. A number of people were standing in front of Alfaro's, a nightclub with plenty of tables and a small stage.
As always, a large crowd had gathered on the corner of 16th Avenue and Calle Ocho, next to El Pub, to see a salsa singer (performing karaoke style) and daring dancers. It made me wonder: why did so few people simply want to watch, and not participate?
 |
| Looking up Calle Ocho at the crowded sidewalk in front of Alfaro's |
Time for a cafecito! I stood at the cafeteria window of El Pub to order a cafecito, and there was the Santera I've seen at dozens of other Viernes Culturales celebrations. She is always dressed in plenty of yellow, wears her sacred beaded necklaces, and has no qualms about dancing in front of others. I love her boldness! She was ordering me a colada and offered me a tiny cup from it: a cafecito. Typical neighborliness here in Little Havana.
It turns out she was planning to go to Cubaocho, too, so we began walking down the sidewalk together.
To be continued!!! See part 3 of this Viernes Culturales adventure. Hopefully I will get some video up on this and all my Viernes Culturales blog posts soon, so stay posted.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
How I Experience Viernes Culturales - Part 1
For this post, I've decided to document how I usually experience Little Havana's Viernes Culturales (Cultural Fridays) festival.
I've attended more of these monthly street fests than I can remember. In fact, I used to run the festival back in 2006, when I first moved to Miami and served as its Executive Director. In late 2010, I accepted the board's invitation to serve as its Interim Executive Director for four months. Now it's in good hands with Pati Vargas as its Executive Director and retired urban planner Jose Casanova as Chair of its Board.
Last Friday, however, I attended the free festival in no other role than as a local resident out to enjoy myself. The night was perfect: balmy, with the slightest breeze, and no rain. I had just picked up my box of new LittleHavanaGuide postcards and figured I could distribute them that night.
I Arrive at Calle Ocho
After miraculously finding a parking spot in the heart of the tourist district (at @7:30 pm), I stuffed a bunch of the postcards in my purse and stepped onto Calle Ocho near its intersection with 14th Avenue.
As I walked up Calle Ocho, I could see my artisan friends across the street near the McDonald's, including longtime participant George Miranda, who paints used furniture and musical instruments with colorful patterns and designs, and his wife (I'm forgetting her name), who designs and sells jewelry. Such a lovely, warm couple. Few people may realize that George had a successful career in corporate America, and now paints because he enjoys it as his new hobby.
I didn't cross the street until I saw the souvenir shop Little Havana To Go: the perfect spot to drop off some postcards, I figured. I stepped outside and immediately saw my friend Bond Trisransri, owner of 2B Asian Bistro next door. He is unmistakeable with his wild pompadour and close-fitting, fashionable shirts. I greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. "Come in and have a glass of wine later!" he said. 2B has absolutely delicious Thai dishes and sushi ... too bad I hadn't made dinner reservations, like my friends Jose and Aleissa.
I walked into Domino Park, looking for my domino-playing buddy Jorge and his friends, but they weren't there. Inside the park, people were playing dominos, chess and cards; I think I even saw a few tourists playing a game.
In the park I did see Ricardo Leal Sanchez, founder of the Proyecto Multicultural de las Americas. He filled me in on the latest status of his book and art project and reminded me that the jazz group Habana Sax (formed by Cuban musicians now based in Spain) was performing that night at Cueva Blue (at the corner of 14th & Calle Ocho). Ricardo's project celebrates the diverse creative contributions of people across the Americas, from Canada to South America.
Domino Plaza
I gave my regards to Ricardo and then moved on to Domino Plaza, which like the area near McDonald's was also filled with artists and artisans displaying their wares.
As my eyes scanned the tables and tents of the plaza, they suddenly came to rest on Pablo Canton, Little Havana's unofficial Mayor (and head of the Little Havana NET Office). I immediately gave him a hug. He smiled and we chatted, both joking about my famed annoyance at all the Coca-Cola merchandise that had recently shown up in local businesses.
Soon I noticed my friends Jose and Aleissa approaching ... as well as Danny, a local insurance broker who loves to joke around.
Jose, a local developer in Little Havana, wanted to introduce me to an artist friend who'd recently painted a mural on the side of his building on Flagler Street. The artist, Celestino Hernandez, had a tent on the plaza filled with his paintings. I loved his depiction of Calle Ocho, and took a picture of it.
I also took a picture of the whimsical cafetera paintings on wood by Marlene Gasiba. I said hello (or rather, "¡Hola!") to her husband, Rafael, as she was away from her table. My eyes were now drawn to the south side of Calle Ocho, on 15th Avenue, where I saw a stage had been set up. It looked like the show had already started!
Jose and Aleissa left for their dinner at 2B, and I crossed the street. Young people were in the middle of dance routine on the stage. A large crowd had gathered around on all sides, and on the wall behind the dancers, a huge black cloth fluttered in the wind, barely hiding the large mural soon to be unveiled. I stood on the patio of Cubaocho, which faced the front of the stage, and watched the dancers for a moment.
 |
| Danny, his friend, Aleissa and Jose |
Within minutes, however, I was distracted by friends, like Lazaro, who told me Cubaocho would be selling paella later in the evening. Sitting at a nearby table I also noticed the Cuban artist Aristide (Aristides Pumariega), whose own new murals adorning the walls outside Cubaocho would also be celebrated that same evening. His textured murals, sculpted with a plaster mixture, also celebrated local arts, but especially music: Son. Boleros. Rumba. Latin Jazz. Even the Beatles!
I ran into local business owner Carolina Ferreiro-Diaz, who introduced me to her boyfriend, and was not surprised to see my dear friend Ruben Abella sitting at a table outside, smoking cigars with friends.
Cigars and Mojitos
"Hey Corinna, you gotta try my new cigar," said the charming and impeccably dressed Ruben, who's retired but who keeps himself busy with his own cigar label, entertainment company and other ventures. Tonight I declined, as I'd just gotten over a chest cold. "But I feel like having a mojito," I said, looking towards Cubaocho's bar, which was handmade by the father of Yeney Farinas Ramos, co-owner and Director of Cubaocho and wife of Roberto Ramos, who serves as its President.
I stepped inside Cubaocho, which seemed to sparkle with music and activity and warmth. At the bar, I greeted my favorite bartenders, Igmar and Livan, and Igmar made me a most decadent mojito with lots of crushed mint, just the way I like it.
Normally, Viernes Culturales is the evening I savor my monthly cigar. Sometimes I'll smoke it in Little Havana Cigar Factory just across the street: a sophisticated lounge with leather seats and a ceiling fan. I always meet interesting people there, like Steve Roitstein of the Afro-Cuban funk band Palo!, which regularly performs in Little Havana. Or, I'll smoke with friends on the patio or in the courtyard of Cubaocho. Ahh, the intriguing conversations I've shared over a cigar and some fine rum! Sometimes I like to walk down the street with my cigar in my mouth, not giving a damn about the looks I get.
Smoking a cigar once in a while is my guilty pleasure, along with my addiction to coffee. I don't condone either: I simply confess.
Dancers
I stepped back onto the Cubaocho patio just after the next dance performance had begun. This time the group consisted of my dance teacher Marisol Blanco and three of my fellow dance students. One of the students performing, Little Havana resident Anjali Sardeshmukh, recently opened up her midwife business just a couple blocks away, in the new Futurama center.
I've taken Afro-Cuban folkloric dance classes with Marisol ever since she started teaching at DAF Studio several years ago. DAF is the second floor studio just behind the makeshift stage; the owner Irela had commissioned the cool, 3-dimensional, psychedelic mural ("Amor el Arte") that was going to be unveiled. I'd seen it for weeks, however, from start to finish, as artist Reynaldo Artires was working on it.
Back to the performance. Dressed in flowing skirts, two of them yellow, two of them white, the four women performed a choreography based on sacred dances of Ochun, the Orisha of the river, prosperity, sensuality, fertility. As they spun around each other, I couldn't help but think of the playful flow of water in a river or stream.
Sensuality took a different form in the next performance: tango. My Russian friend Marianna, whom I met when she was visiting Little Havana, says DAF Studio has the best tango classes in Miami. A tango fanatic, she took classes across Miami-Dade County in order to find her favorite place. Every Friday night, DAF hosts tango classes in its studio, as well as a late night Milonga. Tonight, the performers exhibited elegance and drama, and I noticed how the audience members that surrounded them were appropriately entranced.
Next, the handsome Alain Guerra Aguila took to the stage with his zumba students. I've taken his Monday night zumba classes before and they're amazing. You feel like you're simply having fun in a nightclub but meanwhile you get a phenomenal workout, and everyone around you has smiles on their faces and acts very friendly and supportive. Hmmm ... I think I need to start taking those classes again!
Sadly, I missed the next dance performance, because I was distracted by more conversations with friends as well as impromptu drumming in the street. Two drummers, using what seemed to be the big barrelled drums of Uruguay, were pounding out rhythms while the beautiful Regla Cumbá stood by.
... Stay tuned for Part 2 of my Viernes Culturales adventure, Coming Soon!
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Tortillas, Treats & Tripas: A Friday Night at 12th & 6th (Little Havana)
The Tortilleria on the Corner of 4th and 8th
On Friday morning, I got up early to join some friends for our monthly breakfast get-together. This time, I'd promised to bring freshly made tortillas from a local tortilleria. I love Little Havana in the morning -- the way the sunlight falls across the landscape, and the relaxed way the neighborhood wakes up with workers clustering around corner cafeterias, folks walking to bus stops, and both mothers and fathers taking children by the hand on their way to school. This is not the time of car alarms or loud music.
I drove to a Nicaraguan tortilleria just blocks from my home and across the street from Riverside Park (on SW 8th Ave.). I figured it would take me less than a minute to pick up the tortillas and then get on I-95.
Before I walked into the store, I noticed that the old fellas who like to watch the baseball and soccer games in the park had already gathered on their benches. One man was handing out shots of Cuban coffee to others. Such a classic local ritual.
Yeah, picking up the tortillas took no time at all. The short, compact lady at the store handed me a plastic bag filled with the ten fresh and handmade tortillas, still steaming hot from the griddle and made Nica style: much thicker than the Mexican corn tortilla, and larger in size than the traditional Salvadoran variety. Cost? $2.
But then I of course had to look around. I noticed the handmade chocobananas in the freezer. These are a Central American favorite: frozen bananas dipped in chocolate. And then there were other traditional baked goods, too, and I wondered: had I remembered to mention this place in LittleHavanaGuide.com?
A Nica man in his thirties or so sat at a table outside feasting on a large, hearty breakfast; really, it looked like lunch! Then an African-American man approached the store's cafeteria window and asked for a coffee in Spanish, which was obviously not his first language. The lady who was assisting me at the store brightened as she noticed my interest and appreciation for her homestyle goods. She offered me a cafecito, on the house.
I asked her what her store was called, and she paused for a long while. She said it was the store on the corner of 4th and 8th. Perhaps locals just think of her place as "The-Spot-Where-They-Sell-Good-Tortillas-and-ChocoBananas-on-the-Corner-of-4th-&-8th." But in Spanish, of course.
The African-American customer introduced himself and said his name was Louis, and that he'd grown up in Little Havana, near the park. He'd just recently moved back after a long absence, and worked as a cook in a soul food restaurant in North Miami. He was eager to share stories about the neighborhood of his childhood. Many people, I've discovered, love to tell stories about the neighborhood.
We exchanged information and I jumped in my car, on to my breakfast with friends. They loved the tortillas, and one of my friends, who is Honduran, said he was excited to bring the leftover tortillas home to his wife, who just recently moved here from Honduras. "These will remind her of home," he said.
Read more about local bodegas, cafeterias and bodegas.
Little Havana Tours for Canadians
Later that morning, I gave a tour of Little Havana to two tourists from Canada. It's funny -- an article was printed recently in the Vancouver Sun about a tour I gave at least a year and a half ago. The article is full of outrageous errors, because the writer mixed her description of two tours: one of South Beach and one of Little Havana, making it seem like one tour. She even described the tour as going to El Palacio de los Jugos. What? That place isn't even in Little Havana or South Beach!
The article has been syndicated and is being read by a lot Canadians, because lately I've had a lot of Canadians calling me for tours. So I guess I'm not so mad at the Canadian journalist anymore.
Read more about my tours.
Rum Tasting, Little Havana Style
At the end of the tour, I relaxed for a bit in Cubaocho, where the owners and employees are like family. A group of people walked in (tourists, I suspected) but no one from Cubaocho was in sight. It seemed that the owner and employees had walked to the back office of the spacious cultural center, assuming (correctly) that I'd monitor the front door.
The group of three tourists, two men and one woman, immediately headed for the bar. One man was peering up towards ... aha, he likes rum, I thought. His eyes were riveted on the section of the bar where Roberto (the owner) keeps his many bottles of fine rum. This visitor was in for a treat.
When Roberto's employee returned, I told her that the visitors were interested in the rum. They asked for a taste of one of the brands. Then Roberto walked back behind the bar, and I explained to him that rum enthusiasts had arrived, which I knew would please him to no end.
As I explained -- in English -- to the tourists, Roberto is a rum collector. The bottles he keeps at Cubaocho are but one portion of his collection. And he loves to talk about rum. So in his broken English, he entertained the visitors, who were from Orange County, California, by bringing down bottle after bottle of rum brands, some of which they had not seen before. Every rum had its own story.
The man with the interest in rum had many of the same brands as Roberto, too, and some that were missing from Roberto's collection. "Oh yes, that one is excellent," said the visitor, taking a sip. Sometimes he'd lift the bottle up and take a photo of it to remember the name.
Roberto and the visitors would nod and share opinions and I enjoyed witnessing it all. This, too -- like the sharing of coffee in the morning -- was a Little Havana ritual.
Walking at Night to 12th & 6th
I wasn't feeling well by the time the evening arrived. And as I write this, I still struggle with a bit of a chest cold. But I knew I could not miss the opening of a new exhibition space at the 12th & 6th Arts District. The 6th Street Dance Studio would be open, with its free hip-hop class for kids, and the 6th Street Container was also having an avant-garde performance art exhibit.
Even the famed ceramicist Carlos Alves and his partner JC were staying open late and had cleaned up the front of their studio for the first time in many months. I knew I had to say "hi" to Antonio del Moral of Galeria Adelmo, who'd also have his gallery open, and Sandy at her fabulous Sugar Fancies bakery, which she'd just opened this week. I had to go. I had to go.
I forced myself to get up from my bed, where I'd been resting, and walk out the door. This time I decided to walk to 12th, since it was only a few blocks from my apartment. What I should mention is that I decided to walk at night.
I don't normally walk around at night in my neighborhood. But I wanted to do so. Perhaps to prove that it isn't as unsafe as others assume it to be. Please, don't chastise me.
So I pushed my iPhone, keys and business cards in my jeans pockets and started walking, grateful for the plentiful street lamps along my path. I passed a middle-aged woman holding a bouquet of flowers in her hand -- a discount from Valentine's Day, I thought? A couple of guys whistled from their cars when they drove past. Ya-da-da. Big deal.
Music swirled from apartment windows like steam from a big pot of food cooking on the stove. And across the street I could hear someone practicing on congas. Then I reached a corner where local dogs seemed to be having their own conversation from behind fences. Keeping up with neighborhood gossip, I figured.
Arrival at 12th & 6th
Finally I'd arrived, and now the music I heard was not salsa, bachata or reggaeton but old-school hip-hop jams from the 2nd floor, where the South Florida Zulu Nation offered its free classes for kids. I walked up the outdoor stairway, decorated with a colorful mural, and walked inside to check out the kids inside the 6th Street Dance Studio.
Boys and girls as young as five years old or so took turns entering a circle and lunging forward into head or handstands. Now that's brave! I admired how they would keep trying even after their headstand turned into a flop onto the floor. No fear.
Then I stepped downstairs and towards the 6th Street Container, curated by Adalberto Delgado. Across the courtyard, a man stood on a pedestal in a leotard, an angled, mirrored mask framing his face. A floor spotlight focused on him, and nearby, other mirrored walls caught reflections. He stood under a large, sprawling tree which created an even more dramatic, pagan-esque backdrop.
Every minute he would change his statuesque pose, gazing and reaching upwards like he were calling upon the gods. His silhouette was clearly etched in the shadows falling on a nearby wall.
This performer seemed brave, too, standing on a pedestal among a crowd of youngish hipsters, creating his art.
I ventured inside the exhibit space, where a tiny room was shrouded in darkness but lively with dance music and people chatting and drinking. A total contrast. The two spaces were both part of the exhibit ...
Then I stood in line to get a free rum and coke, where I saw Antonio del Moral, an artist and owner of the Adelmo Gallery which is part of the complex. I love Antonio's lush and detailed portraits of flowers, but his gallery also displays the works of other artists.
While in line, I also met Ray Sullivan, director of the Miami Contemporary Dance Company. He mentioned how excited he was about the company's upcoming performance at 6th Street Dance Studio (where the kids had been practicing their breaks). The studio, run by Brigid Baker, has long been a home to both ground-breaking contemporary dance as well as hip-hop, as well as performances integrating both.
While sipping on my rum, I decided to check out how Carlos "Mosaic Man" Alves and his partner JC had transformed their ceramics studio. Wow! I was impressed ... it was much easier to move around and see the newly cleared front gallery space revealed pieces I'd never noticed before. Where had they been hiding?
I was happy to see people exploring their workspace where they transform discarded ceramic nic-nacs (spelling?) into curious and clever works of art.
Then I wandered over to Ahol-Sniffs-Glue's exhibit, the inauguration of the new Mercenary Square space curated by Carlos Suarez de Jesus. I'd met Carlos six years ago, soon after I'd moved to Miami, and when I was working as the Executive Director of Viernes Culturales. As the outspoken art critic for Miami New Times, he interviewed me for an article about Little Havana, in which he criticized the area's lack of avant garde, experimental art offerings.
Well, now he was bringing to the neighborhood what he thought was missing! I appreciated that the publicity about Ahol's exhibit (including a lot of excited posts on Twitter) had attracted a crowd of hundreds to the interior courtyard of 12th and 6th. And I guessed that many people in the crowd had never visited the area before.
From the courtyard, I noticed that a backdoor of a business was open, and looked inside: it was the Thumbs Up Barbershop, run by Amanda Vargas, who used to work at the famed barbershop La Esquina (formerly Fademasters) on the nearby corner of 12th and Flagler.
The other barbershop is a frequent stop for renowned Cuban-American rap artist Pitbull. Amanda was playing cards in the back of the shop, which was full of customers at around 9 pm.
I said hello to everyone and then went a couple doors down to Sandy's new cake shop, Sugar Fancies.
Two enthusiastic customers were checking out her cupcakes and ordering coffee. Neither of them had been to the area before, and they loved what they had discovered. Who would have thought to find gourmet, tropical-flavored cakes and sweets and cappuccinos next to a barbershop?
And why not?
Her store looked like a theater space from the outside, with its large windows facing both 6th Street and 12th Avenue. The store itself -- just like its cakes and cupcakes -- was enticing.
Tacos de Tripas
And look -- there was a crowd of people hanging out at Con Sabor a Mexico: Carnitas Estilo Michoacan, just across the street on 12th Avenue. I decided to cross the street to say hello. There I met two Nicaraguan neighbors sitting at the place's counter, enjoying their tacos.
We chatted for a bit, and one of the guys, named Victor, offered to buy me a taco. I started off with a taco de carne. Very tasty. But still kind of ordinary, considering the other taco options on the menu.
Then the pair urged me to try a taco made with tripe: cow stomach. Ooh noooo, I said. Victor went ahead and ordered me a taco de tripa. It didn't look so bad. I added a few salsa toppings (green and red), a little bit of onion, and then brought the creation to my mouth ...
The flavors melted in my mouth. The tender, richly flavored grilled tripe with the fresh tomato and onion flavors, brought together with the warm corn tortilla ... never again will I be afraid to have a taco de tripas!
I drove to a Nicaraguan tortilleria just blocks from my home and across the street from Riverside Park (on SW 8th Ave.). I figured it would take me less than a minute to pick up the tortillas and then get on I-95.
Before I walked into the store, I noticed that the old fellas who like to watch the baseball and soccer games in the park had already gathered on their benches. One man was handing out shots of Cuban coffee to others. Such a classic local ritual.
Yeah, picking up the tortillas took no time at all. The short, compact lady at the store handed me a plastic bag filled with the ten fresh and handmade tortillas, still steaming hot from the griddle and made Nica style: much thicker than the Mexican corn tortilla, and larger in size than the traditional Salvadoran variety. Cost? $2.
A Nica man in his thirties or so sat at a table outside feasting on a large, hearty breakfast; really, it looked like lunch! Then an African-American man approached the store's cafeteria window and asked for a coffee in Spanish, which was obviously not his first language. The lady who was assisting me at the store brightened as she noticed my interest and appreciation for her homestyle goods. She offered me a cafecito, on the house.
I asked her what her store was called, and she paused for a long while. She said it was the store on the corner of 4th and 8th. Perhaps locals just think of her place as "The-Spot-Where-They-Sell-Good-Tortillas-and-ChocoBananas-on-the-Corner-of-4th-&-8th." But in Spanish, of course.
The African-American customer introduced himself and said his name was Louis, and that he'd grown up in Little Havana, near the park. He'd just recently moved back after a long absence, and worked as a cook in a soul food restaurant in North Miami. He was eager to share stories about the neighborhood of his childhood. Many people, I've discovered, love to tell stories about the neighborhood.
We exchanged information and I jumped in my car, on to my breakfast with friends. They loved the tortillas, and one of my friends, who is Honduran, said he was excited to bring the leftover tortillas home to his wife, who just recently moved here from Honduras. "These will remind her of home," he said.
Read more about local bodegas, cafeterias and bodegas.
Little Havana Tours for Canadians
Later that morning, I gave a tour of Little Havana to two tourists from Canada. It's funny -- an article was printed recently in the Vancouver Sun about a tour I gave at least a year and a half ago. The article is full of outrageous errors, because the writer mixed her description of two tours: one of South Beach and one of Little Havana, making it seem like one tour. She even described the tour as going to El Palacio de los Jugos. What? That place isn't even in Little Havana or South Beach!
The article has been syndicated and is being read by a lot Canadians, because lately I've had a lot of Canadians calling me for tours. So I guess I'm not so mad at the Canadian journalist anymore.
Read more about my tours.
Rum Tasting, Little Havana Style
The group of three tourists, two men and one woman, immediately headed for the bar. One man was peering up towards ... aha, he likes rum, I thought. His eyes were riveted on the section of the bar where Roberto (the owner) keeps his many bottles of fine rum. This visitor was in for a treat.
When Roberto's employee returned, I told her that the visitors were interested in the rum. They asked for a taste of one of the brands. Then Roberto walked back behind the bar, and I explained to him that rum enthusiasts had arrived, which I knew would please him to no end.
As I explained -- in English -- to the tourists, Roberto is a rum collector. The bottles he keeps at Cubaocho are but one portion of his collection. And he loves to talk about rum. So in his broken English, he entertained the visitors, who were from Orange County, California, by bringing down bottle after bottle of rum brands, some of which they had not seen before. Every rum had its own story.
The man with the interest in rum had many of the same brands as Roberto, too, and some that were missing from Roberto's collection. "Oh yes, that one is excellent," said the visitor, taking a sip. Sometimes he'd lift the bottle up and take a photo of it to remember the name.
Roberto and the visitors would nod and share opinions and I enjoyed witnessing it all. This, too -- like the sharing of coffee in the morning -- was a Little Havana ritual.
Walking at Night to 12th & 6th
I wasn't feeling well by the time the evening arrived. And as I write this, I still struggle with a bit of a chest cold. But I knew I could not miss the opening of a new exhibition space at the 12th & 6th Arts District. The 6th Street Dance Studio would be open, with its free hip-hop class for kids, and the 6th Street Container was also having an avant-garde performance art exhibit.
Even the famed ceramicist Carlos Alves and his partner JC were staying open late and had cleaned up the front of their studio for the first time in many months. I knew I had to say "hi" to Antonio del Moral of Galeria Adelmo, who'd also have his gallery open, and Sandy at her fabulous Sugar Fancies bakery, which she'd just opened this week. I had to go. I had to go.
I forced myself to get up from my bed, where I'd been resting, and walk out the door. This time I decided to walk to 12th, since it was only a few blocks from my apartment. What I should mention is that I decided to walk at night.
I don't normally walk around at night in my neighborhood. But I wanted to do so. Perhaps to prove that it isn't as unsafe as others assume it to be. Please, don't chastise me.
So I pushed my iPhone, keys and business cards in my jeans pockets and started walking, grateful for the plentiful street lamps along my path. I passed a middle-aged woman holding a bouquet of flowers in her hand -- a discount from Valentine's Day, I thought? A couple of guys whistled from their cars when they drove past. Ya-da-da. Big deal.
Music swirled from apartment windows like steam from a big pot of food cooking on the stove. And across the street I could hear someone practicing on congas. Then I reached a corner where local dogs seemed to be having their own conversation from behind fences. Keeping up with neighborhood gossip, I figured.
Arrival at 12th & 6th
Boys and girls as young as five years old or so took turns entering a circle and lunging forward into head or handstands. Now that's brave! I admired how they would keep trying even after their headstand turned into a flop onto the floor. No fear.
Then I stepped downstairs and towards the 6th Street Container, curated by Adalberto Delgado. Across the courtyard, a man stood on a pedestal in a leotard, an angled, mirrored mask framing his face. A floor spotlight focused on him, and nearby, other mirrored walls caught reflections. He stood under a large, sprawling tree which created an even more dramatic, pagan-esque backdrop.
This performer seemed brave, too, standing on a pedestal among a crowd of youngish hipsters, creating his art.
I ventured inside the exhibit space, where a tiny room was shrouded in darkness but lively with dance music and people chatting and drinking. A total contrast. The two spaces were both part of the exhibit ...
While in line, I also met Ray Sullivan, director of the Miami Contemporary Dance Company. He mentioned how excited he was about the company's upcoming performance at 6th Street Dance Studio (where the kids had been practicing their breaks). The studio, run by Brigid Baker, has long been a home to both ground-breaking contemporary dance as well as hip-hop, as well as performances integrating both.
While sipping on my rum, I decided to check out how Carlos "Mosaic Man" Alves and his partner JC had transformed their ceramics studio. Wow! I was impressed ... it was much easier to move around and see the newly cleared front gallery space revealed pieces I'd never noticed before. Where had they been hiding?
I was happy to see people exploring their workspace where they transform discarded ceramic nic-nacs (spelling?) into curious and clever works of art.
Well, now he was bringing to the neighborhood what he thought was missing! I appreciated that the publicity about Ahol's exhibit (including a lot of excited posts on Twitter) had attracted a crowd of hundreds to the interior courtyard of 12th and 6th. And I guessed that many people in the crowd had never visited the area before.
From the courtyard, I noticed that a backdoor of a business was open, and looked inside: it was the Thumbs Up Barbershop, run by Amanda Vargas, who used to work at the famed barbershop La Esquina (formerly Fademasters) on the nearby corner of 12th and Flagler.
I said hello to everyone and then went a couple doors down to Sandy's new cake shop, Sugar Fancies.
Two enthusiastic customers were checking out her cupcakes and ordering coffee. Neither of them had been to the area before, and they loved what they had discovered. Who would have thought to find gourmet, tropical-flavored cakes and sweets and cappuccinos next to a barbershop?
Her store looked like a theater space from the outside, with its large windows facing both 6th Street and 12th Avenue. The store itself -- just like its cakes and cupcakes -- was enticing.
Tacos de Tripas
We chatted for a bit, and one of the guys, named Victor, offered to buy me a taco. I started off with a taco de carne. Very tasty. But still kind of ordinary, considering the other taco options on the menu.
Then the pair urged me to try a taco made with tripe: cow stomach. Ooh noooo, I said. Victor went ahead and ordered me a taco de tripa. It didn't look so bad. I added a few salsa toppings (green and red), a little bit of onion, and then brought the creation to my mouth ...
The flavors melted in my mouth. The tender, richly flavored grilled tripe with the fresh tomato and onion flavors, brought together with the warm corn tortilla ... never again will I be afraid to have a taco de tripas!
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Defending the Trees
Today I got a call from Jose Fernandez of JFI Properties, a local developer.
"Hey Corinna, some guy's chopping down a tree on 7th Street between 9th and 10th -- I just saw it. Man, I can't believe it," he said. "Call Code Enforcement, can you? I'm driving -- just saw it as I drove by."
As I jumped in my car, I felt like an ambulance driver rushing to the rescue. Perhaps my true name was Protectress of Trees. Too bad I didn't have a cape and the ability to fly!
But I zoomed down the alley and some one way streets until I saw it: a native tree nearly completely denuded.
So sad.
Was I too late? I practically screeched to a halt.
But I zoomed down the alley and some one way streets until I saw it: a native tree nearly completely denuded.
So sad.
Was I too late? I practically screeched to a halt.
In front of me it, another car (a white van, actually) was parked at the scene, along the busy corridor of SW 7th Street: Code Enforcement!
I was pleased and relieved.
The two Code Enforcement officers were assessing the damage. Clearly, there were a bit astonished by my arrival. Who was this chick taking photos with her iPhone -- of a tree? I was no tourist, that's for sure. I introduced myself and we shook hands.
I offered to take photos of them and they both declined. "But it IS good publicity for us," one of the officers mused, almost under his breath. One of the officers turned out to be none other than the head of Code Enforcement himself! I was glad to finally meet him.
I turned to the owner of the property, a slightly stooped over elderly gentleman with an American flag pin affixed to his well worn cap. In a soft voice, he explained that he had not meant to kill the tree, only to remove the limbs that had become infested with termites. He pointed to one of the fallen limbs, its bark torn off: indeed, it was riddled with tiny holes.
We watched as workers hauled the already cut limbs away. Just a few remaining parts of the truck still stood tall, their branches reaching out for sunshine and air.
"We have so few trees in this neighborhood," I explained, in Spanish. "That's why it's important not to kill them."
We watched as workers hauled the already cut limbs away. Just a few remaining parts of the truck still stood tall, their branches reaching out for sunshine and air.
"We have so few trees in this neighborhood," I explained, in Spanish. "That's why it's important not to kill them."
Jose called my cellphone. "No need to go over there, Code Enforcement is handling it," he said, and I explained that I'd already arrived.
"Ok, I'm coming by then." Within minutes Jose had joined us.
As he explained to the owner, cutting limbs can kill a tree if not done properly. I added that landscaping companies can end up killing trees when they don't trim them properly, and not all are licensed. Do they even need a license to operate, I wondered?
"He could be facing $10,000 in fines if the tree dies," said one of the Code Enforcement officers, "he didn't have a permit." It seems to me that landscaping companies should take some responsibility for how they cut the tree!
I felt bad for the heavily amputated tree AND for the owner. And I wondered about others who have cut down trees and have gotten away with it, simply because they have more "connections."
Little Havana has a serious tree shortage -- and in a city with one of the lowest amounts of tree canopy in the U.S.!
Little Havana has a serious tree shortage -- and in a city with one of the lowest amounts of tree canopy in the U.S.!
As I stood there watching Jose talk to the owner, I thought about how important it is help local residents and business owners understand the value of trees. They also need to learn the consequences (not just environmentally, but economically and socially) that come from chopping them down.
If you care about our Little Havana trees, and want to help plant new ones, check out my article on how to get involved in local tree-related efforts.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Lost and Found
I started my day by giving a couple from Ontario, Canada a tour of Little Havana.
Well, that's not really what happened. I really seemed to start when I parked on 13th Ave. and walked across the back parking lot of Los Pinareños, admiring the smart-looking little roosters as they scuttled about. So fine they were, in their red, brown and forest green plumage!
After greeting me, Angel, Sr. (the owner) pointed me in the direction of a man with a fancy camera strapped around his neck: Oh yeah, the photographer from The Miami Herald/El Nuevo Herald. He was going to do a photo shoot before the tour -- and take photos of the tour itself.
I posed in front of the Florida honey, wondering when I would get my first cafe cubano of the day. I posed while leaning back against a box of yellow plantains, their skin turned to black (perfect for maduros). And perhaps my favorite pose, which I assume will never make it into the paper, was when I picked up a wicker basket of egg-sized green mangos and cradled it in my arms, looking like one of those smiling ladies on a product label.
The reporter joined us, and soon we were hanging out by the fruitstand's counter, chatting with Angel, Jr. (son of the owner) and his mother, Guillermina. As the tall, lanky Angel prepared our coffees, I began to wonder about the whereabouts of my tourist guests. I called them, and soon discovered the issue: they were lost. I gave them directions.
Then whom did I see but Adalberto walking down the street, videotaping with his iPhone as he walked. "Adalberto!" I embraced him, and we talked: Adal, the reporter, the photographer and I. "I'm doing a film project in which I'm putting together clips of 1-second videos," he explained. "I hope it works out." We just happened to be on his daily walking route.
We decided to be inventive and had Adalberto take a photo of me while the photographer took a photo of him. It's just the crazy stuff we do when we're charged with Cuban coffee and standing along Calle Ocho.
Meanwhile, up the street, tourists were stepping off the many coaches that arrive in the neighborhood every day, snapping photos, buying souvenirs and exploring a bit. A bit.
The tourists (I call them guests) finally arrived! Unfortunately, however, the photographer had to leave before they showed up, so we're doing another photo shoot on Friday, when I have another tour.
We spent the next two hours exploring many places and facets of the neighborhood, ending up at Azucar for ice cream. It was Suzy's birthday, so I arrived at the store singing Happy Birthday to her. At least the freezer was finally fixed!
For flavors, the tourists chose mamey ice cream and Abuela Maria, made from bits of Maria cookie, guava jam and cream cheese. They called the tour "tremendous" and I thanked them, then walked down the street back to Los Pinareños.
Well, that's not really what happened. I really seemed to start when I parked on 13th Ave. and walked across the back parking lot of Los Pinareños, admiring the smart-looking little roosters as they scuttled about. So fine they were, in their red, brown and forest green plumage!
After greeting me, Angel, Sr. (the owner) pointed me in the direction of a man with a fancy camera strapped around his neck: Oh yeah, the photographer from The Miami Herald/El Nuevo Herald. He was going to do a photo shoot before the tour -- and take photos of the tour itself.
I posed in front of the Florida honey, wondering when I would get my first cafe cubano of the day. I posed while leaning back against a box of yellow plantains, their skin turned to black (perfect for maduros). And perhaps my favorite pose, which I assume will never make it into the paper, was when I picked up a wicker basket of egg-sized green mangos and cradled it in my arms, looking like one of those smiling ladies on a product label.
The reporter joined us, and soon we were hanging out by the fruitstand's counter, chatting with Angel, Jr. (son of the owner) and his mother, Guillermina. As the tall, lanky Angel prepared our coffees, I began to wonder about the whereabouts of my tourist guests. I called them, and soon discovered the issue: they were lost. I gave them directions.
Then whom did I see but Adalberto walking down the street, videotaping with his iPhone as he walked. "Adalberto!" I embraced him, and we talked: Adal, the reporter, the photographer and I. "I'm doing a film project in which I'm putting together clips of 1-second videos," he explained. "I hope it works out." We just happened to be on his daily walking route.
We decided to be inventive and had Adalberto take a photo of me while the photographer took a photo of him. It's just the crazy stuff we do when we're charged with Cuban coffee and standing along Calle Ocho.
Meanwhile, up the street, tourists were stepping off the many coaches that arrive in the neighborhood every day, snapping photos, buying souvenirs and exploring a bit. A bit.
The tourists (I call them guests) finally arrived! Unfortunately, however, the photographer had to leave before they showed up, so we're doing another photo shoot on Friday, when I have another tour.
We spent the next two hours exploring many places and facets of the neighborhood, ending up at Azucar for ice cream. It was Suzy's birthday, so I arrived at the store singing Happy Birthday to her. At least the freezer was finally fixed!
For flavors, the tourists chose mamey ice cream and Abuela Maria, made from bits of Maria cookie, guava jam and cream cheese. They called the tour "tremendous" and I thanked them, then walked down the street back to Los Pinareños.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Valentine's Day, Little Havana Style
It's Valentine's Day en la Pequeña Habana, or Dia de San Valentin.
Visiting Sugar Fancies
Today I stopped by the new cake shop Sugar Fancies, the newest tenant in the 12th & 6th Arts District in Little Havana -- at 543 SW 12th Ave.
The front doors were locked and the blinds were drawn, but I knocked just in case. After all, a cake shop simply MUST be open on Valentine's Day!
Owner Sandy Rios-Monsant opened the door.
"Oh sorry," she said, letting me in. "We don't officially open until 3 pm."
At a little after 10 am, the display cases were empty. But it was fine. Despite the busy day that faced her, Sandy let me ask a few questions as I admired the elegant oasis she had created at the corner of 12th Ave and 6th Street, just across from a family-owned taco stand (on 12th) and a Salvadorean place renowned for its baleadas (on 6th).
She had started her business in Kendall as an order-only operation, selling celebration cakes and wedding cakes, but with her new retail location in Little Havana will be able to sell cupcakes, coffees, shakes and cookies, too. "We're going to have espressos, cappuccinos, lattes," she explained, "and gourmet smoothies, too, using fresh tropical fruits mixed with flavors like white chocolate."
Tropical fruits like mamey and guava are also among the flavors of her cakes, some of which are constructed to resemble purses and other fashion accessories -- down to the last detail.
"We call it edible art," said Sandy. "I love fashion, so the names of my cakes are inspired by fashion designers: Christian Di-oreo, Hermes Velvet ..."
Sandy is young, in her twenties it seems. Her long dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and this morning she wore just a bit of eyeliner for makeup. She told me later that she is of Peruvian heritage.
She emphasized that she develops her own recipes and uses high quality ingredients. "I make my frosting every day using 100% real, quality butter. Other cupcake makers don't do that," she noted.
On my way in, I'd noticed a tall bouquet of fresh flowers standing sentry on one of the tables facing the shop's large glass windows. On a nearby loveseat, a rose-colored silk pillow added to the inviting ambience of the clean, airy, open space.
I asked her why she chose Little Havana for a shop appealing to upscale clientele. "It's a neglected area, and it has so much to offer," she answered. "It has so much history. We're Hispanic. This is where we come from. This place can be cool and urban and it represents who we are." The conviction in her voice was unmistakeable.
She continued: "I like the element of surprise, and that what you get when you walk in here, you're like, 'Oh my God, this is Little Havana?' I can't believe it!' It's important to discover new places, to get out of your norm. I want people to discover us ... like a treasure they didn't expect."
She mentions that some guy walked in yesterday and said, "Wow, this place is like a diamond in the rough."
"I said, 'no, this is not a diamond in the rough! It's NICE outside. You can sit here, grab a coffee and when my window shade is open you can sit here and I guarantee you: you will not be bored. It's not like you're in Starbucks ... you will be entertained. There is never a boring day in this neighborhood. I'm not kidding! If I'm bored I just look out the window ... it's hilarious and it's part of the neighborhood, it's charming, and it's what a city is all about.
"When you go to New York," she continued, "you'd be surprised -- it doesn't look pretty on the outside, you see the meat market, it looks rough, it doesn't look pretty, but then you walk into a beautiful five-star restaurant, and stores, and artist studios, and it's ok because it's New York but why can't it be here, too? We can have the element of surprise, too. So what if I'm across the street from a check cashing store. That makes it even cooler. You can cash a check AND eat a cupcake!" We both laugh.
Before I leave, I stop in and say hello to ceramicist Carlos Alves and his partner, JC Carroll, as they eat lunch in their studio, which is part of the same building as Sugar Fancies. They had spent hours cleaning out the front of their studio to make it more of a gallery space, part of their preparation for the opening, on Friday, of a new arts exhibition space in the 12th & 6th Arts District. Sandy will also be staying open late for the opening (I'll write more about this soon).
Read more about the 12th & 6th Arts District.
A Birthday Celebrated at El Cristo
After my Sugar Fancies visit, I decided to stop by El Cristo, an excellent local Cuban restaurant, to take photos for the banner ad they had recently purchased (for my site, LittleHavanaGuide.com). Two bouquets had been dropped off on the counter, and the servers were busy putting red roses in vases and adding to the Valentine's Day decor. All wore clothing with a red or pink hue.
As I was speaking to the owner, Jose, one of the local tour guides burst in the door, wearing a crisp shirt the color of a fire engine. He had brought folks to the restaurant for a bite to eat.
"Happy ber-tay to you, happy ber-tay to you!" The waiters walked in with an arroz con leche topped with whipped cream, a cherry and a lit candle, and presented it to the tour guide. All of us sitting at the restaurant's counter joined in the singing, most with Spanish accents. We laughed and joked with the tour guide, guessing his age.
Soon I was on my way to visit Azucar Ice Cream to take photos of their Valentine's Day treats.
Emergency at Azucar!
The situation was bad, especially for an ice cream shop on one of its bigger sales days of the year.
The freezer had stopped working sometime early in the morning -- they weren't sure why, and poor Suzy (the owner) had a look of panic in her eyes as her employee Alex tried the various switches from the circuit breaker, checking to see if it would turn back on.
"Let me call an electrician," I said, calling one I knew who worked nearby. He couldn't make it but would send one over. Meanwhile, a couple of us started transferring the ice cream pints from the freezer into coolers with dry ice. Calm, cool, collected!
Alex tried moving the freezer from the wall, but it seemed stuck between two pieces of furniture that were permanently in place. I helped out, but despite our collective tugging, we were unable to pull it towards us.
"Let's use cardboard ... it will slide easier that way," I suggested. The cardboard helped, and by now Alex had nabbed the guy who sells coco frio around the corner so we could add a little muscle to our effort.
"We need a dolly," I said. "I'll find one."
The waitresses at El Exquisito across the street said they didn't have one, so I decided to try Cuba Tobacco Cigar Company nearby -- and sure enough, they had one to lend. Peter handed me the big green dolly and I'm sure I looked like a crazy tourist dashing across Calle Ocho with a dolly, a big camera around my neck and my purse ...
By the time we had pulled the freezer from the wall I'd received a text: the person who was buying my old laptop was almost at my apartment. I had to leave. I lived just five minutes away, so I made it back in time.
Back to Sugar Fancies
Some hours later I returned to Sugar Fancies to take my photos. Now the display case was full of little temptations. Yes -- this was indeed food art: perfectly suited to the arts district.
"I'm still not quite open yet," said Sandy, who explained that she'd been rushing to fill orders all day.
In walked Antonio del Moral, owner of Adelmo Gallery just a couple doors away, and he ordered a dozen of her delectable cupcakes. I ordered a half dozen, took a photo with my iPhone and tweeted it, then recommended that she work out a deal with Suzy at Azucar so she could sell her cupcakes there, too.
Back in Business ... with Outrageous Flavors
Now it was time to check on Suzy. They were managing. The pints were safe in several coolers on the floor. But the credit card machine wasn't working. And the freezer was still standing on its own, unplugged. The freezer repairman was working on the electrical outlet.
Why today? Why today?
The customers didn't seem to care, though. Three of us tasted a new flavor made from vanilla ice cream and crushed organic rose petals. Nothing less than an aphrodisiac, I exclaimed! I ordered a pint. It's called Zapaticos de Rosa.
The other Limited Edition flavors for Valentine's Day? Mi Bon Bon (chocolate ice cream with cherries), Red Hot Lover (banana ice cream with cinnamon red hots), Besitos (vanilla or chocolate ice cream with pink merengues) and the sinful 9 1/2 Caramels (vanilla ice cream with Godiva chocolate caramels and a ribbon of salted caramel). Oooooh yeah. Now this is AMOR, expressed Little Havana style!
I write about Azucar Ice Cream in more detail in this article.
I told the two other customers (both Little Havana residents) about Sugar Fancies, and they were happy to hear of the new shop. But now it was time to go home. To write.
Today I stopped by the new cake shop Sugar Fancies, the newest tenant in the 12th & 6th Arts District in Little Havana -- at 543 SW 12th Ave.
The front doors were locked and the blinds were drawn, but I knocked just in case. After all, a cake shop simply MUST be open on Valentine's Day!
Owner Sandy Rios-Monsant opened the door.
"Oh sorry," she said, letting me in. "We don't officially open until 3 pm."
At a little after 10 am, the display cases were empty. But it was fine. Despite the busy day that faced her, Sandy let me ask a few questions as I admired the elegant oasis she had created at the corner of 12th Ave and 6th Street, just across from a family-owned taco stand (on 12th) and a Salvadorean place renowned for its baleadas (on 6th).
She had started her business in Kendall as an order-only operation, selling celebration cakes and wedding cakes, but with her new retail location in Little Havana will be able to sell cupcakes, coffees, shakes and cookies, too. "We're going to have espressos, cappuccinos, lattes," she explained, "and gourmet smoothies, too, using fresh tropical fruits mixed with flavors like white chocolate."
Tropical fruits like mamey and guava are also among the flavors of her cakes, some of which are constructed to resemble purses and other fashion accessories -- down to the last detail.
"We call it edible art," said Sandy. "I love fashion, so the names of my cakes are inspired by fashion designers: Christian Di-oreo, Hermes Velvet ..."
Sandy is young, in her twenties it seems. Her long dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and this morning she wore just a bit of eyeliner for makeup. She told me later that she is of Peruvian heritage.
She emphasized that she develops her own recipes and uses high quality ingredients. "I make my frosting every day using 100% real, quality butter. Other cupcake makers don't do that," she noted.
On my way in, I'd noticed a tall bouquet of fresh flowers standing sentry on one of the tables facing the shop's large glass windows. On a nearby loveseat, a rose-colored silk pillow added to the inviting ambience of the clean, airy, open space.
I asked her why she chose Little Havana for a shop appealing to upscale clientele. "It's a neglected area, and it has so much to offer," she answered. "It has so much history. We're Hispanic. This is where we come from. This place can be cool and urban and it represents who we are." The conviction in her voice was unmistakeable.
She continued: "I like the element of surprise, and that what you get when you walk in here, you're like, 'Oh my God, this is Little Havana?' I can't believe it!' It's important to discover new places, to get out of your norm. I want people to discover us ... like a treasure they didn't expect."
She mentions that some guy walked in yesterday and said, "Wow, this place is like a diamond in the rough."
"I said, 'no, this is not a diamond in the rough! It's NICE outside. You can sit here, grab a coffee and when my window shade is open you can sit here and I guarantee you: you will not be bored. It's not like you're in Starbucks ... you will be entertained. There is never a boring day in this neighborhood. I'm not kidding! If I'm bored I just look out the window ... it's hilarious and it's part of the neighborhood, it's charming, and it's what a city is all about.
"When you go to New York," she continued, "you'd be surprised -- it doesn't look pretty on the outside, you see the meat market, it looks rough, it doesn't look pretty, but then you walk into a beautiful five-star restaurant, and stores, and artist studios, and it's ok because it's New York but why can't it be here, too? We can have the element of surprise, too. So what if I'm across the street from a check cashing store. That makes it even cooler. You can cash a check AND eat a cupcake!" We both laugh.
Before I leave, I stop in and say hello to ceramicist Carlos Alves and his partner, JC Carroll, as they eat lunch in their studio, which is part of the same building as Sugar Fancies. They had spent hours cleaning out the front of their studio to make it more of a gallery space, part of their preparation for the opening, on Friday, of a new arts exhibition space in the 12th & 6th Arts District. Sandy will also be staying open late for the opening (I'll write more about this soon).
Read more about the 12th & 6th Arts District.
A Birthday Celebrated at El Cristo
After my Sugar Fancies visit, I decided to stop by El Cristo, an excellent local Cuban restaurant, to take photos for the banner ad they had recently purchased (for my site, LittleHavanaGuide.com). Two bouquets had been dropped off on the counter, and the servers were busy putting red roses in vases and adding to the Valentine's Day decor. All wore clothing with a red or pink hue.
As I was speaking to the owner, Jose, one of the local tour guides burst in the door, wearing a crisp shirt the color of a fire engine. He had brought folks to the restaurant for a bite to eat.
"Happy ber-tay to you, happy ber-tay to you!" The waiters walked in with an arroz con leche topped with whipped cream, a cherry and a lit candle, and presented it to the tour guide. All of us sitting at the restaurant's counter joined in the singing, most with Spanish accents. We laughed and joked with the tour guide, guessing his age.
Soon I was on my way to visit Azucar Ice Cream to take photos of their Valentine's Day treats.
Emergency at Azucar!
The situation was bad, especially for an ice cream shop on one of its bigger sales days of the year.
The freezer had stopped working sometime early in the morning -- they weren't sure why, and poor Suzy (the owner) had a look of panic in her eyes as her employee Alex tried the various switches from the circuit breaker, checking to see if it would turn back on.
"Let me call an electrician," I said, calling one I knew who worked nearby. He couldn't make it but would send one over. Meanwhile, a couple of us started transferring the ice cream pints from the freezer into coolers with dry ice. Calm, cool, collected!
 |
| Alex and the Joel (who sells coco frio) work on fixing the outlet themselves |
"Let's use cardboard ... it will slide easier that way," I suggested. The cardboard helped, and by now Alex had nabbed the guy who sells coco frio around the corner so we could add a little muscle to our effort.
"We need a dolly," I said. "I'll find one."
The waitresses at El Exquisito across the street said they didn't have one, so I decided to try Cuba Tobacco Cigar Company nearby -- and sure enough, they had one to lend. Peter handed me the big green dolly and I'm sure I looked like a crazy tourist dashing across Calle Ocho with a dolly, a big camera around my neck and my purse ...
By the time we had pulled the freezer from the wall I'd received a text: the person who was buying my old laptop was almost at my apartment. I had to leave. I lived just five minutes away, so I made it back in time.
Back to Sugar Fancies
"I'm still not quite open yet," said Sandy, who explained that she'd been rushing to fill orders all day.
In walked Antonio del Moral, owner of Adelmo Gallery just a couple doors away, and he ordered a dozen of her delectable cupcakes. I ordered a half dozen, took a photo with my iPhone and tweeted it, then recommended that she work out a deal with Suzy at Azucar so she could sell her cupcakes there, too.
Now it was time to check on Suzy. They were managing. The pints were safe in several coolers on the floor. But the credit card machine wasn't working. And the freezer was still standing on its own, unplugged. The freezer repairman was working on the electrical outlet.
Why today? Why today?
The customers didn't seem to care, though. Three of us tasted a new flavor made from vanilla ice cream and crushed organic rose petals. Nothing less than an aphrodisiac, I exclaimed! I ordered a pint. It's called Zapaticos de Rosa.
The other Limited Edition flavors for Valentine's Day? Mi Bon Bon (chocolate ice cream with cherries), Red Hot Lover (banana ice cream with cinnamon red hots), Besitos (vanilla or chocolate ice cream with pink merengues) and the sinful 9 1/2 Caramels (vanilla ice cream with Godiva chocolate caramels and a ribbon of salted caramel). Oooooh yeah. Now this is AMOR, expressed Little Havana style!
I write about Azucar Ice Cream in more detail in this article.
I told the two other customers (both Little Havana residents) about Sugar Fancies, and they were happy to hear of the new shop. But now it was time to go home. To write.
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