Cubano Jul 15, 2021

Every trip I take, I find some sort of callback to home. On this particular family trip, I was staying at a lovely Airbnb in Elkton, Virginia and the callback came in the form of a magazine—an Airbnb magazine no less—in the bathroom. I don’t normally partake in reading magazines in bathrooms that aren’t my own, but this one was different. It had an article in it that I couldn’t pass up—Chasing the Best Cuban Sandwich.

As a native 4th generation Tampan of Spanish and Cuban descent, I’ve probably eaten a couple thousand Cubanos. In fact, I made sure to eat one before leaving on this trip. For almost every day of high school, my nana made me one for lunch. And man could she make a good Cuban. She had about half a century of experience at that point. So naturally I was curious if this article had anything to teach me.

Let’s get the most important thing out of the way first—the Cuban sandwich is a Tampa invention. No one debates that the Cuban sandwich was developed through a back and forth process between various cultures and even countries. As with absolutely anything, of course that is the case. But the point is that all of the research leads you to one sandwich—the one with salami that only existed in Tampa until very recently.

The Cubans bring the roast pork. The Spaniards bring the ham. The Italians add salami. The Germans and the Jews supply pickles and mustard.

Perhaps that’s an apocryphal story—the cited food historian in the article calls it "bunk" because it doesn't tell the full story, but the point isn't that it was developed here in a vacuum. The point is that all of these cultures brought things from home and through living peacefully within blocks of each other in Ybor City they built the Cubano we know and love today. And if other places influenced it, that's great, but you didn't see Cubanos on the menu in any of those cities 40 years ago like you did in Tampa.

Burgert Brothers Photographic Collection, Courtesy, Tampa-Hillsborough County Public Library System.

La Segunda alone has been making Cuban bread daily for over 100 years. At the time the sandwich was developed, Miami existed, but the largest Cuban population was in Tampa due to the cigar trade moving from Key West. This is why you don't find true Cuban bread in many places in Miami—it didn't come from Cuba. It's from Cuban immigrants to Tampa. If you're in Miami, get a media noche. That's what they do and they're excellent. If you're in Tampa, get a Cuban.

Now, everything this author says about the Cuban is pretty much exactly what I feel about them. A good Cuban sandwich makes you forget everything wrong in the world, your life, whatever. One of my favorite childhood memories is going to the store with my grandparents. Back then, even large grocery stores in Tampa baked fresh Cuban bread. We'd buy two loaves, because we'd crack into the heel of one of them somewhere in the store and it'd be half gone by the time we'd get through checkout. The warm, fluffy inside of fresh cuban bread is amazing. You don't find it in most large supermarkets like that anymore, or I'd still do it. But you can still hit up La Segunda or Faedo's and eat it warm in the car if you're so inclined.

So, let's get down to brass tacks. If you're seeing this link because you saw the note I put into that magazine in the airbnb, wash your hands and then take notes for the next time you happen to find yourself in Tampa. If you're not going to make it soon and you want to taste some of this bread, this recipe is one I tried out during the pandemic when everyone was baking bread. It took an attempt or two but it came out excellent. You might have to try harder if you're not familiar with what the bread should be like.

Sadly, the author, who is probably my spirit animal, went right past one of the best Cubanos in town. He went to Aguila's and also tried a CuBaoNo from Ichicoro which I hear is good. But right nearby on the corner of Hillsborough and Florida there's a place called the General Store. They have a traditional Cuban that is always spot on. I've never had a bad one. They are pretty consistent.

If you're not looking for a traditional Cuban, then grab Bodega's Cuban, which is maybe a quarter-mile North from the General Store. For some reason, they're closed Monday and Tuesday. Like Chick-fil-A, I always happen to really want it on the days it's closed.

La Segunda is good. I've been meaning to try Brocato's. Another notable Cuban is Carmine's—although I did go once and it wasn't as good, but I'm hoping they just had a bad day. They're right on Ybor's main strip, 7th avenue. They also have a delicious raw oyster plate and deviled crab. If you see a deviled crab anywhere in Tampa, it's usually good. That's another Tampa specialty that I'm sure somewhere else has tried to claim. I've also heard that West Tampa Sandwich Shop is good, but I haven't been personally.

I will eventually find the gas station mentioned in the article because when I was a kid, I used to work at a laptop repair shop out at 56th, and the nearby gas station had an amazing Cuban. It was so long ago that I sadly forgot where it is, and you need to know what you're looking for to find it. For some reason, you can find some ridiculously good Cubans in odd places—which is exactly why I tried the Cuban at the General Store. They have this old truck out front and on an extra truck door, they advertised it. I tried it and I was pleasantly surprised.

This only applies to Tampa and surrounding areas. Elsewhere in the country, if you order a Cuban, you'll get all of the insides in varying qualities and quantities—often with too much of one meat and not enough of another...they don't have the right balance—and you'll almost never find actual Cuban bread. You'll get some too-hard French bread or some light crust with dry fluffy inner bread that blows. True Cuban bread is thicker on top where there should be a palmetto frond or evidence of such helping to split the loaf, and the inside is dense but airy. It's chewy, kind of like al dente pasta if that makes sense. Find it, you'll see what I mean. It is like no other bread in the world.

One last note: if you go to Aguila's—small is regular, regular is large, and large is for two people.