Something fishy in Cuba

A hundred different earthy smells filled the cramped kitchen as we watched Mercedes, the owner of this particular homestay in Cuba’s Pinar del Rio province, ladle the fish stew generously into bowls. Basil, thyme, a hint of cinnamon and chopped lemon grass; all freshly picked this morning just as the fish had been caught off the shores of Cayo Levisa beach a few hours before. Ingredients surely didn’t get fresher than this, or more illegal. For Mercedes was breaking a law strongly upheld in her district that stated all produce had to be registered with the government. Everything, even growing herbs, was subject to government control. For years this hadn’t bothered Mercedes or indeed many of the inhabitants of the fertile Pinar del Rio province, but with food shortages becoming a more pressing issue, the government had begun to crackdown on such underground ventures.

Mercedes’ house had been forcibly searched two weeks before and the officials, finding some herbs in the kitchen, had given her a dire warning that next time she would be “taken away”. Only three days ago one of her close friends who had a prospering vegetable garden had been taken in for questioning and still hadn’t returned.

Mercedes spoke candidly about what she thought of the government’s threats;
“They can go to hell. It’s my garden and my food and I will grow and cook what I want.”
She led us out the back of her home into the shed which doubled as a dining area and the greenhouse where she grew herbs. Squashed in a makeshift circle surrounded by various tools, we hunkered down together to our illicit feast.

The stew was deliciously rich, the fish perfectly cooked and every mouthful revealed the delightful complexity of the recipe, the role that each prohibited herb played. Halfway through the meal Mercedes stopped and turned to her husband and grown son beside her and raised her glass, indicating that they should do the same. With a wry smile they all intoned at once:
“Viva la revolucion.”