I don’t know a better way to kick off the day than with a couple of café con leche(s) – it’s always weird pluralizing nouns in a romance languages – and guava pastries. By the time the crash from the sugar begins setting in, the caffeine from the coffee takes over.

We met up with the fam yesterday morning at the famous Versailles – the south Florida mainstay for Cuban food, not Louis’ bankrupting palace. After I gringo’d myself out by asking for the café con leche without sugar, a sweet little Cuban lady in her early 80s walked up to the table and pointed at me as she began to tell me in Spanish that I wasn’t Cuban.

Huh…the girl with freckles and curly, somewhat reddish hair wasn’t Cuban? How’d they know? Continue reading