What is the capital of Latin America? Miami. According to the last census, around 65 percent of the city's inhabitants are of Latino descent - and that's just those with papers. You can spend all day on Calle Ocho - 8th Street - and not hear English spoken once. You also eat and drink really well here, at prices that make South Beach seem as inflated as the chests of its inhabitants. This most foreign of US cities is going through a shiny high-rise building boom just now, but Little Havana remains reassuringly low rent and low rise.
Reassurance is what the crowds outside Versailles Restaurant (3555 SW 8th Street, vallsgroupinc.com, around US$20 per head including drinks) seek every day. Versailles is packed from early morning to the early hours with families and friends reminiscing about a Cuba few have ever been to. A man in a 50s trilby and correspondent shoes stands outside with a placard stating that "Castro Is Dead." At the coffee window, oldies retail the same diasporic vitriol that's kept them going these last 50 years. The food's fine and very hearty at Versailles, but for me the kick is in morning coffee and an empanada in the adjoining bakery, or in late-nite media noches: toasties of sweet Cuban bread stuffed with ham, pork, swiss and the works. Over a cafe cubana, I admire the tooled belt emblazoned "Cuba" worn by my fried pork pastry-noshing neighbor. How old do I think he is? "82!" he shouts, before I can flatter him. And how many cardiac arrests do I guess he's had? The proud answer is seven.
The same family who owns Versailles also runs La Carreta, a chain of nine home-style Cuban restaurants, including a buzzing branch at Miami International Airport (3632 SW 8th Street, vallsgroupinc.com, around US$15 including drinks). Under tiled murals of Havana as was, La Carreta offers gargantuan portions of the Old Spain-meets-Caribbean/African dishes that comprise carbo-heavy Cuban cuisine: white rice, black beans, fried plantains and great slabs of pork and steak. Daily specials cost about US$10 and are filling enough to keep you going all week.
A cruise up Calle Ocho brings you to Palacio De Los Jugos (14300 SW 8th Street and 5721 W Flagler Street, dish and juice, around US$10), a sprawling juice bar/deli/second office/picnic/pick-up joint that positively pullulates with Latino energy. You queue for a fresh juice - sugarcane, coconut, soursop, the list is immense - then for Nicaraguan arepas (egg topped griddle corncakes), or great haunches of Peruvian pork, and mounds of arroz imperial that take about an hour to eat. There's an outside covered eating area where you bounce along to the music, marvel at the tattoos and gold dentistry and gawk at TV soap operas.
More genteel is I Love Calle Ocho (1547 SW 8th Street, 001 305 643 3737, live music in the evening, around US$20 including a glass of wine), in the nascent Artists' Quarter. (This art deco quarter holds a street party the last Friday of each month, viernesculturales.com.) A charming, spotless lunch spot, ILCO is run by Barbara Aguiar, who encourages local artists to exhibit there, and cooks really tasty food, in portions that don't leave you feeling like a beach ball. I recommend the palomillo, a thin beefsteak subtly marinated with bitter oranges, dressed with juicy onions and served with yellow plantains, black beans, white rice and fresh salad. Delicioso. Barabara suggests a malcriada (literally, "badly brought up"). This is a nice layer of condensed milk with an inky espresso poured over, plus a cappuccino top, in a chic glass. Tastes like dessert, acts like a purple heart.
Thus pumped and psyched, I find myself somewhat at odds with the tranquil atmosphere of Maximo Gomez Park, where elderly chums chomp on cigars and play interminable games of dominos and chess. If you fancy a picnic (South Beach is only a 15 minute drive), you could pick it up from over at Miami's oldest farmers' market, Los Pinarenos (1334 SW 8th Street). They'll make you an excellent syrup-sweet coffee (served in 20ml hospital plastic cups) while you stock up on avocados the size of SUVs, homemade tamales con salsa and juicy fresh fruits. The best version of Oye Como Va I've ever heard is pumping out, causing a Stetson-wearing septuagenarian calling himself "El Pinareno" to demonstrate some fabulous hip-swinging salsa moves. He boasts of only three heart attacks.
Across the road, El Nuevo Siglo Supermarket (1305 SW 8th Street) is loaded with all things Hispanic, and has a sit-down counter for fresh-cooked, calorie-laden meals, and marvelous whole chickens cooked on a rotisserie - in case you're feeling peckish.
No ramble in Little Havana is complete without a visit to El Rey De Las Fritas (1821 SW 8th Street; other branches at Hialeah, Kendall Street, and SW 40th Street). A frita is a Cuban hamburger, the bun soft, the meat a sort of sausage patty, under an avalanche of deep-fried shoestring potatoes and onions. At only US$2.75 a throw I'm told they're the Latino Big Mac. Actually, fritas are to the golden arches what Cohibas are to Embassy panatelas. I loved mine with a batido - a milky, ice-slushy fresh fruit smoothie. I chose mango. Plus another frita and a bite of rich porky tamale. Each branch of El Rey is beautifully clean and full of interesting punters: haves and hobos, young, old, rich, poor, stylish and scruffy: American democracy in action. Unlike my digestive system. Anyway, I get chatting with a musician wearing a complicated beard and matching bling who recommends Hoy Como Ayer (2212 SW 8th Street, hoycomoayer.net). "Go Thursday nights, hombre," he says. "Mojitos to knock you sideways, and music to match. It's the best Latin music club in Miami - meaning, it's the best in all the Americas!"
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