My favorite bakery in Miami burnt down last Wednesday night.
I discovered Roma Bakery soon after I moved to North Gables. At first I wasn't sure if its environment was always "hospitable," but, eventually, I became a regular, of sorts.
Early in the morning, you could see the first round, gathered either on the sidewalk outside la ventana; or queued up inside. The inside crowd, especially, in starched white shirts and appropriate ties tucked into respectable suits...and this included the City Manager and one of the Commissioners of The City Beautiful, one exceptionally bright morning. I gave them an earful. They were standing alongside--and speaking--with a rather corpulent builder whom I have continued to run into over the last few years. The fare: Miami's best cafe con leche...or a cortadito...or a colada. Pasteles de guayaba; de guayaba con queso; a "healthy" version of a tostada, with more bread than butter. As well as croissants; palmiers; pastelitos de carne--pretty much anything your little heart could desire.
Los viejitos wandered in a little later on. Many of them made lunch at Roma their main meal of the day: manicotti; chicken parmesan; salad; bread; a biscotti or two.
At any time of the day, people wandered in to buy long loaves of pan cubano.
The serving ladies at la ventana and in the main cafeteria: frazzled in the worst of times, yet always willing to offer you a friendly smile (and to make sure the espuma was just right, 99.9% of the time). We weathered Katrina and Wilma together: Roma managed to open for business a little before other places in the area after the storms, so we were assured of ese cafe and some pasteles before they eventually ran out.
I met some very interesting characters there, and even ran into some unexpected acquaintances and business associates. You could never tell, could you, about a place "where everybody knows your name." For, yes: Roma was like a Cheers, as another customer commented in the 9/15/06
Herald article.
Little did I know when I showed up last Tuesday to grab my proverbial "quick bite": una croqueta de espinaca (I'd learned to swear by them); un pastel de guayaba con queso (in a lightning-fast mental debate, it had won out over a pastel de guayaba); and--por supuesto--ese cafe con leche, that it would be my last time.
For now. The Bianchis se van a recomponer, and they will open Roma again. My thoughts and prayers are with them. When the time comes, I want to be there with them; to celebrate, for I owe them.
This is what I owe them: a large part of my original "Those Oldies But Goodies." Another very well-known establishment may have stolen their thunder when my story finally appeared in print--much to Mirtha Bianchi's combination of wonderment and dismay--but it was ordering that croqueta and that cangrejo at Roma Bakery that briefly turned me into a food critic.
Bueno. Aqui esta el original "Those Oldies But Goodies." Buen provecho!
THOSE OLDIES BUT GOODIES (written late February, 2004)
BY GEORGINA MARRERO
The other day, I was grabbing a quick bite: a “Cuban quick draw lunch,” as I’m now calling croquetas con galletas. A number of weeks earlier, Debesa had introduced me to this merienda-level wonder at Versailles. One late afternoon, we had split a platter of four croquetas, which had arrived at our table, piping-hot. Buffalo chicken wings they may not be, but finger food is finger food… right? However, not wishing to appear indelicate, I had begun to delicately pick away at one with my fork. Wrong.
I don’t remember if Debesa was dismayed, merely shook his head, or whatever, but he did proceed to show me how you’re supposed to eat the croquetas. You’re supposed to squoosh them in between the galletas and then consume the “sandwich.” With your hands, of course. After carefully observing this Cuban rite of passage, I began to squoosh and munch away, along with the best of that late-afternoon crowd.
Several weeks later, I performed the ritual on my own. Once again at Versailles, I was grabbing a quick lunch. This time, I was downing un café con leche. It’s these milk-softened, yet heavy-hitting, pick-me-ups that often get me through late mornings and/or early afternoons. Through siesta time. It feels really good to take my bandejita with my croquetas, galletas, and café to one of the little round tables at Versailles Bakery, sit down, gulp and munch away… and, most importantly, watch the world go by.
Different places produce different-tasting croquetas. They come in three varieties: jamon, pollo, and queso. The important thing, however, is that every bakery, every cafeteria, every timbiriche, every restaurante de categoria, is well stocked with croquetas. And galletas.
My “Cuban quick draw lunch” the other day was at Roma Bakery, in Granada Plaza at the corner of Southwest 49th Avenue and Calle Ocho. I’m especially fond of their café con leche: it’s always served piping hot. Sometimes I scald my tongue with it, but I don’t generally care. It’s hot. And that’s the way I like it. As I was really in a bit of a rush, I decided to try them out, croqueta-wise. Do you have any, I asked (I didn’t see any in the vitrina). Yes. What type? Jamon. OK. But, wait, then I saw the cangrejitos.
And that’s when I thought of the old song, “Those Oldies But Goodies.” I asked the counter lady for one croqueta and one cangrejito. On a little plate, on top of a waxy, absorbent paper, she placed my tentempie. She also handed me the requisite packet of galletas.
Before I went to sit down at one of their little round tables to squoosh and munch away, I struck up a brief conversation with a woman who had been standing next to me. I commented on the “sweet” pastry at either end of the cangrejito’s “claws.” She agreed. I also told her how the cangrejitos – and the croquetas -- reminded me of fiestas de cumpleanos in Cuba. She agreed. “Those Oldies But Goodies,” indeed.
Copyright, 2004 by Georgina Marrero 500 words All Rights Reserved
