I spent two weeks in Cuba. I ate in Havana, Viñales, and Trinidad. I ate street food, home food, and fancy stuff on rooftops. Some meals were pure joy. Some were… fine. You know what? I left full and happy, but also with a few notes. For a plate-by-plate rundown that goes even deeper into the drips, splatters, and happy sighs, check out my full, gloriously messy journal over on Lovely Cuba.
How I Ate (and Where)
I stayed in casas particulares. That means breakfast at the house most days. Fresh fruit, eggs, bread, coffee. Simple. Good. The mango was so sweet, I laughed.
In Havana, I liked:
- Doña Eutimia (by the cathedral). The ropa vieja here was soft and rich. The beans tasted smoky. I wiped the plate with bread, no shame.
- La Guarida. Yes, it’s famous. The stairwell looks like a set. I had snapper with garlic and lime, then flan with guava sauce on the roof. Pricey, but the view made me hush.
- El Chanchullero. Tiny, loud, fun. Their tostones were hot and salty. I kept stealing from my friend’s plate. Not sorry.
- El Biky. Clean, bright, kind staff. I got croquetas and a cortadito. Felt like a real “we live here” lunch.
Near the Malecón, I grabbed pan con lechón from a window stand. Pork, onions, mojo, grease on my fingers. I walked by the water and grinned like a kid.
Street Bites I Loved (And One I Didn’t)
- Churros by Parque Central. Crisp outside, soft inside, a dust of sugar. I ate two, then thought about a third.
- Pizza cubana from a street window. Thick dough, lots of cheese, a line of ketchup. This one missed for me. Sweet sauce, floppy center. But the price was tiny, and the cook smiled, so I still felt warm about it.
- Mani cones (roasted peanuts in a paper twist). Crunchy, salty. Great bus snack.
- Guarapo (fresh cane juice) from a green metal press. Watching the cane juice run was half the fun.
Coffee, Cocktails, and That Honey Trick
Café cubano is serious. Short, sweet, strong. A cortadito calms it a bit. I had one after lunch most days.
In Viñales, a farmer made me coffee with a drizzle of honey. I thought he was teasing me. It was magic—smooth, round, like dessert without the guilt.
I had a mojito at El Floridita because, well, history. It was bright and minty, but crowded. Later I liked a quiet daiquiri at a small paladar more. Less fuss, more lime.
Sweet Tooth Report
- Flan with a wobble. My favorite was at La Guarida, but I had a close second at a tiny spot in Trinidad.
- Dulce de guayaba with cheese. Sweet meets salty. It’s like a hug.
- Coppelia ice cream in Havana. Long line, lots of kids, hot day. I got coconut. Was it the best ever? No. Was it a happy scene? Yes. I’d go again just for the cheer.
Outside Havana: Real Plates, Real People
Viñales fed me well. At Finca Agroecológica El Paraíso (see it on Google Maps), the table looked wild. So many bowls. Rice and beans, yuca with mojo, grilled pork, salad, taro fritters. The view of the green valley made the salt taste brighter, somehow. If you’re curious about what other travelers think, you can skim the recent reviews on TripAdvisor before you go.
In Cojímar, I tried cazuela de mariscos. Chunky, garlicky, with shrimp and fish. Bread to dunk. Wind in my hair. I felt like I had a movie life for one hour.
In Trinidad, La Botija served late-night lobster with butter and lime. Not fancy, just clean and sweet. I ate slowly because I didn’t want it to end.
The Good Stuff
- Simple food, big heart. Rice, beans, yuca, plantains, pork. When it’s seasoned right, it sings.
- Fresh fruit. Guava, mango, papaya, pineapple. It tastes like sunshine.
- Paladares (private restaurants) get creative. Grilled fish with citrus. Eggplant with herbs. Even a nice avocado toast at a tiny spot in Old Havana when I needed something light.
- Portions. You won’t leave hungry.
The Hard Parts (I’ll Be Honest)
- Shortages are real. Menus list ten things; maybe six exist that day. It’s not laziness. It’s supply.
- Some dishes can be bland. Salt, garlic, cumin, and citrus do a lot. Still, sometimes I wanted a bite of heat. I started carrying a tiny hot sauce in my bag. It changed my week.
- Service can be slow. Relax and watch people. If you’re in a rush, grab a window snack.
- Prices swing. A street pizza might be cheap. A lobster in a tourist spot might feel high. Cash helped. Small bills helped more.
- Vegetarians can eat, but it takes asking. Rice, beans, eggs, plantains, salad. Good, but samey after a few days. One paladar made me a nice veggie plate with garbanzos when I asked with a smile.
Little Moments That Stuck
A grandma in a Havana bodega handed me a better loaf from the back. She winked. I tried not to cry.
A churro man drew a heart in sugar on my bag. Corny? Sure. Did I keep the bag? Yep.
A musician at San Cristóbal Paladar played a slow bolero while I ate yuca. Everything felt soft and golden for a minute.
During one slow afternoon in a guarapo line, a neighbor explained the symbols behind “la Charada de la Bolita,” Cuba’s quirky numbers game. I later tried my luck—read my honest take on the whole experience if you’re curious how that turned out.
What I’d Order Again
- Ropa vieja with congrí (or moros y cristianos)
- Yuca con mojo (don’t skip the garlic oil)
- Tostones dipped in aioli
- Fresh fish with lime and herbs
- Flan or guava paste with cheese
- A cortadito after lunch, honey coffee in the afternoon, then a mojito at sunset
Tips I Wish I Knew
- Bring a tiny hot sauce, a pack of salt, and snacks for buses.
- Ask, “What’s fresh today?” Let them steer you.
- Eat breakfast at your casa. It’s calm and good value.
- Carry cash and patience. Both go far.
- Bottled water kept my stomach happy. I brushed with it too.
- If bread’s dry, ask for a splash of olive oil or mojo. It helps.
So, Was the Food Worth It?
Yes. Not perfect, but rich with soul. Some days felt plain. Some bites hit so hard I went quiet. The food tastes like family, weather, and work. Simple food that tries hard, with bright fruit and deep beans and a squeeze of lime over a life that isn’t always easy.
If you’re hungry to sketch your own island food route, the travel stories and resources at Lovely Cuba can help you plan every delicious stop.
Would I eat my way through Cuba again? In a heartbeat. I’d pack hot sauce, save room for flan, and say thanks after every plate. Because someone cooked that for me—and I felt it.
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