Back in the 1980s or 1990s, there was a popular US advertising campaign for the fast food chain Wendy's in which an enthusiastic announcer asked the question, "Where's the beef?"

It is a question that is far more apt for Cuba. Grocery shopping in Cuba is an altogether different experience than it is in the US, where we are accustomed to stores the size of entire city blocks (love you, Fairway in New York City!) stacked floor to ceiling with 14 types of ketchup, produce from all over the world, and all kinds of meat. In Cuba, grocery shopping is a test of will and endurance. Cubans have a book called a "libreta" which permits them rations of rice and other staples. Most shopping is done at street vendor stalls or corner stores that specialize in a particular kind of foodstuff-- eggs on this corner, vegetables on that corner, and a bakery with one kind of bread and thick homemade crackers between the two. We do most of our shopping at these stores, but we also go to the grocery store in the Carlos III shopping center. There is a small shop with coffee, water, soda, and basic Cuban fare-- black beans, rice, and tomato puree--and a separate shop that seels only meat. The carnicero specializes in chicken. There's no beef to be had, and apparently hasn't been for awhile. Even the most devoted poultry and pork lover tires of the same diet and finds himself asking, "Where's the beef?"

We found the beef yesterday.

Having taken an excursion to the resort town of Varadero--a special outing for the family--we decided to take everyone out to lunch. At the bizarrely themed "Restaurante Vesubio" (Vesubius Restaurant), the menu posted outside boasted a mind-boggling array of options, from lobster tail to onion pizza. We, though, were all enchanged with Special #3: beef steak, arroz moros y cristianos (black beans and rice), and french fries.

I didn't want to rain on anyone's parade, but I'll confess to having been skeptical that the menu's options reflected the kitchen's realities. Lo and behold, I was proven wrong: there was steak, the one waiter in the restaurant assured us, and two hours later, we licked the last taste of steak off our forks... no plate left unclean.

-Varadero, Cuba

October 1, 2007