Cuba Libre!

It's a toasty warm 94 degrees here in the tropics- without- the- trees, and I've been out and about running errands most of the day. Most of the day? Who am I kidding? I didn't even get out of bed until almost noon...

Anyhow, after the business at the bank and such was taken care of, it was time for lunch. Metro Pizza is out, so I decided to drive a few more blocks east along Tropicana and stopped in a little strip mall, settling on a small restaurant called the Cuba Cafe.

Intimate is a good word to describe the dining room, with about a dozen small tables covered in black tablecloths and lots of pictures of Cuba adorning the walls. Not wanting to get too extravagant and ordering off the dinner menu, I stuck with the basics and ordered a Cuban sandwich, fries, and a Coke.

It was excellent, and while still not as over-the-top awesome as Kahunaville's interpretation, I'd have to admit that it was a smidge better than the Cuban sandy from the much-ballyhoo'd Florida Cafe down on The Boulevard. Piping hot, smashed flat, with pork, Swiss, mustard, and pickles. Hard to beat that for a good lunch. I'm not a huge fan of French fries, but these weren't bad, although they serve way too many. They weren't fries so much as they were huge potato planks, kind of like the kind you'd get in a steakhouse if you didn't want your taters baked.

But with a couple of cans of Coke, the tab came to about twelve bucks--well worth it. My only beef was that there wasn't an outdoor patio to sit on and enjoy the day--it was a beautiful warm sunny day out, and I think it'd be a good time go pull out the ol' Guayabera shirt, a fine cigar, and pretend I'm watching the world go by on Calle Ocho while sipping on a tiny cup of strong coffee.

Oh well.

The next best thing is the rum and coke sitting here slowly putting a glass ring on my new desk.

Mikey