The food that once produced a catchy chorus of traditional music is hardly consumed among young Cubans
14ymedio, Natalia López Moya, Havana, 22 September 2024 — Preparing a dish of quimbombó (okra) is one of those popular pieces of wisdom that has been lost with decades of mass migrations, State agricultural plans and a very limited basket for the rationed market. Younger Cubans barely know how to cook this fiber-rich food, which also has little favor among children and that one day slipped forever into a catchy chorus of traditional music.
“Quimbombó que resbala pá la yuca seca” [“okra that slides together with dry yucca”] is the song that, among others, was popularized by the Chappottín Ensemble and that has become an inescapable theme with the wiggling of hips and a lot of alcohol. But beyond the festivities, the fruit, which is used in kitchens as a vegetable, has not escaped the Island’s inflation that raised traditional recipes to the level of gourmet food, suitable for very few pockets.
In September of last year, a pound of okra cost 100 pesos in the market at 19th and B, in El Vedado. Twelve months later the food is quoted there at 150 after experiencing an increase at the beginning of 2024 that took it to 200. But those oscillations do not give the measure of how unattainable it has become for many families, because the other ingredients needed for cooking it have skyrocketed even more: meat, spices, garlic, onion and tomato, among others.
“The first thing you have to do is get rid of the slime,” explains Zenaida, a retiree from Central Havana who declares herself “frustrated” because she can only enjoy it by herself at home. “My grandchildren don’t like it. My daughter says it disgusts her, and everyone prefers to eat the picadillo that the butcher sells, even though no one knows what’s in it,” she complains.
Zenaida, a mulata who for decades has been a Santería godmother for dozens of residents in her neighborhood of Pueblo Nuevo, inherited the taste for quimbombó from her mother, the granddaughter of slaves, who ended up marrying a blue-eyed man from the Canary Islands who arrived in Cuba in the 1920s. Of their three children, only the old woman remains on the Island: “My older brother went to a better life and is in the Colón cemetery, and my younger sister also went to a better life and is in Miami.”
In the family, the recipe to make the quimbombó was one of the first that was taught to girls as soon as they began to get into the pots and pans: “First, you soak the quimbombó in water with a little vinegar or lemon to remove the slime,” she explains to this newspaper, in reference to the substance that is seen when eaten boiled, which is slightly reminiscent of gelatin.
“Then you boil it until it softens and in the meantime prepare a good sauce,” she explains. “I like it with meat, preferably beef, but pork also goes very well with it. My mother also threw in chicharrones,” Zenaida recalls. The quimbombó, also know as okra, is highly valued in the kitchens of many African countries and the Caribbean.
“These days they are a little small,” warned a cart peddler who this Saturday offered quimbombó on Carlos III Avenue. “But there are people who prefer it that way because they say it softens more easily.” In the small El Vedado grocery store, a pound of the fruit was offered at 80 pesos, but the presentation was far from the clean bag with larger specimens on offer at 19th and B.
“These days they are a little small,” warned a cart peddler who this Saturday offered quimbombó on Carlos III Avenue
“Most of those who buy quimbombó from me are older people, because the younger ones don’t even know how to cook it,” the merchant explained to this newspaper. “A lot of pizza, a lot of croquettes, a lot of hot dogs: young people here no longer eat real food,” he lamented. “The problem is that quimbombó doesn’t taste good without meat, and meat is harder to find than electricity,” he joked.
“Also, it seems that the farmers have realized that it doesn’t sell very well in the market, so they don’t harvest it as much as before,” the man added. “When I was young there was plenty; you could go to any small shop, and next to the malangas and the squash was the quimbombó, but today people don’t even know how to select it. They cannot distinguish between one that is good quality and one that stays hard.”
A few feet from the wheelbarrow, a retiree, with his empty bag hanging from his shoulder, complained about the price of the product. “I like it but can no longer pay that price, and also in my family, no one eats it but me,” he said. “Just for the tomato and the garlic cloves you need for the seasoning, half of my pension is gone.”
Today, the rise in the cost of living and the loss of culinary traditions have had one of its most notorious victims in the quimbombó. The lyrics of that contagious song are indecipherable for most Cubans born with the ration book and the five-year agricultural plans.
Translated by Regina Anavy
____________
COLLABORATE WITH OUR WORK: The 14ymedio team is committed to practicing serious journalism that reflects Cuba’s reality in all its depth. Thank you for joining us on this long journey. We invite you to continue supporting us by becoming a member of 14ymedio now. Together we can continue transforming journalism in Cuba.
