Cuban Shade of Winter
Havana Alma de Cuba 94 Christopher St. (betw. Bleecker St. & Bedford St.) 212-242-3800
Two days after Castro retired, I found myself sitting in a Cuban restaurant where the only person talking about Castro was my ginger-haired friend. Instead, the multi-culti patrons around us were discussing topics less heated then foreign dictators. One table near us talked blandly about the writers strike; one group of girls gossiped politely about the birthday girl before she arrived; the two guys next to us seemed to be on an awkward date. Havana Alma de Cuba, nestled in the heart of the West Village on Christopher Street, is just like those conversations: lacking a certain degree of spice.
Many of the occupants on the night I was there seemed to be regulars, which is normally a good sign. Maybe they come for the service, as even strangers were greeted with a hearty welcome by the friendly staff. Hell, if I lived in the neighborhood, Id probably stop in for no other reason than the drinks. I meant to give you the scoop on a few of the flavor variations, but the regular mojito ($10) was too tasty to walk away from. Not as syrupy as I find many mojitos to be, these are refreshing and light and come with a stalk of sugarcane that you can gnaw on anytime you want a little burst of extra sweetness. Ignore your friend as he mentions he cant get the vision out of his head of toothless children sucking on sugarcane, and chew away: its the closest an adult can (legally) come to that heady candy rush of childhood.
The mojitos got us off to a good start, and our streak continued with our costillas de puerco ($10) special. A great kick-off if they have it that evening, the braised pork ribs melt off the bone with no effort; their smokiness plays nicely off the cool, citrus-y avocado salad that accompanies it. My friend found the salad too lip puckering, but we both agreed that the zesty salsa verde for the under-spiced empanadas ($6) has the perfect balance of heat and lime. Someone in the kitchen is a bit in love with the deep-fryer though, as the huge meat pastries show up fried within an inch of their life. Gambas al ajillo ($9), a simple dish to prepare, were bland and served tepid. Citrus-marinated chicken breast with an avocado topped salad ($17), a special that evening, was a simple marriage of Cuban flavors that made for a healthy dinner, even healthier when you dismiss the rice and beans, with a quick I make these better at home, and proceed to ignore them as my friend did. No surprise, then, that my rice-based dish was also disappointing. The Paella Valenciana ($20) arrived dried out and tasting mostly of salt. The seafood was tough; the pork rib as dry and sad as the appetizer ones were juicy and joyful. I counteracted all that salt by polishing off the sweet, fried maduros ($4) and my second mojito. And then my third.
Dessert was also a mixed bag. The grilled sweet mango special ($10) is a tangy crowd pleaser that seemed popular that evening. That said, we didnt see any evidence of grilling, and our plate arrived with coco helado instead of the vanilla ice cream that was supposed to accompany it. While I missed the grilling, the coconut ice cream was a serendipitous mistake that combined with the other fruits for a tropical party in my mouth. Sadly, the churros ($7) were victimized by that overzealous deep-fryer and were quite similar to fried leather in texture, causing my ginger-haired friend to long for the donut-like fritters from his high school cafeteria. Which caused me to wonder if everyone has churros at their high school, and Im the weird one who didnt.
With a huge backroom and patio, Havana Alma De Cuba would be a good place to straggle in with a group of friends for some mellow mjoitos. Cozy couples populate the front room, and even when a birthday cake with a sparkler arrives nearby, the vibe barely changes above low hum. Regardless of whether its your birthday or not, everyone is offered a cigar to take home as they leave. Puffing on a cigar on Christopher Street on a frigid February evening was hardly the transporting experience Id hoped for since the under-spiced food left no fire on my lips and the wind was making my body shiver. Yet, as I replaced the stalk of sugarcane with my complimentary cigar, for a brief moment, my mouth was transported to a close approximation of Havana living.