14ymedio, Mercedes García/Natalia López Moya, Sancti Spíritus/Havana, July 7, 2024 — No, lime is not the basis of everything but it is an essential ingredient in many recipes of Cuban cuisine and cocktails. The Creole mojo that is put on the cassava, the marinade that is plastered on the pork before cooking and the mojito that is inseparable from bars and celebrations need that acidic flavor that stings your eyes and awakens the soul.
However, Persian lime, or lemon as it is also called, has become in the last decade an elusive guest at the tables and bars on this Island. Counting on it to prepare a dish could end in defiance and frustration. To alleviate its absence, all kinds of subterfuges have emerged, from replacing it with vinegar in some preparations to making use of that artificial imposture that comes in a bottle and is called “lemon juice.”
In the last 12 months, in the Plaza Boulevard market in the city of Sancti Spíritus, the most appreciated citrus has made it clear that no one can take it for granted. From November 2023 until last April, it was absent from shelves, and in the last year, according to the weekly compilation done by this newspaper, its price went from 100 pesos per pound to the current 250 pesos.
When it was most needed, the lime was not there. It was not on Plaza Boulevard when customers arrived searching like crazy for something to marinate the pork for the Christmas holidays, or to throw over a salad on the night of December 31. Nor did it appear for the lemonade on Three Kings Day.
On February 14, couples had to settle for other less traditional cocktails or drink a mojito with “plastic lemon,” as they call those extracts supposedly made from citrus but that look more like a product synthesized in the laboratory than something taken from a fruit that was once hanging from a bush.
The luckiest made do on those dates with some hard lime rind, dark green and with very little juice that would serve more to break a window than to season a dish. That rickety and dry version has generated several culinary methods to try to get some liquid out of them. From immersing them in hot water before cutting and squeezing them, to placing them on the floor and, squeezed tightly under the foot, rolling them on the surface so that their interior softens and produces something.
However, almost always those methods are so disappointing that you end up throwing the lime in the trash between swear words and curses, most of them dedicated to those who manage the Cuban fields, to the terrible policies implemented in agriculture and to an official “wise man” who, without blushing, considered the lime as “the basis of everything.”
From those heights of the Government, they blame the frequent disappearances of the lime and also the plummeting supply of oranges, grapes and mandarins on the negative impacts of pests, hurricanes and the U.S. ‘blockade’*. Of those citrus productions, which exceeded one million tons three decades ago, currently only the memory remains. If in 1990 the land destined for its cultivation reached 145,000 hectares, by 2020 it was barely 11,907.
Like any scarce and desired product, in Cuba the lime has gone to the foreign exchange trade or to nourish exports rather than humiliate itself by ending up on local tables. In the digital portals that sell to emigrants to supply their families on the Island, the product can be found more frequently and stably, but yes, at a price of around five dollars a pound.
Also, the very vain limes travel rather than remaining in the homeland. In September 2020, the official press announced that a farmer from Mayabeque had become the first private producer in Cuba who managed to export limes to Spain through the company Frutas Selectas.
Meanwhile, some online shops, which sell in foreign currency, began to offer limes from Panama, Mexico and the United States in the catalog of goods that Cuban exiles use to buy for their parents, grandparents or children who have stayed on the Island. As if national consumers could no longer aspire to the citrus that sprouts from their land and should be content with foreigners buying it for them.
As good news, in the forums where opinions are exchanged about these virtual stores, a criterion is repeated again and again: “Those Mexican limes are good, they have juice and you don’t have to hit them or put them in hot water.” The cassava mojo is guaranteed in this way for certain Cuban tables, but the limes can no longer be called “creole.”
*Translator’s note: There is, in fact, no US ‘blockade’ on Cuba, but this continues to be the term the Cuban government prefers to apply to the ongoing US embargo. During the Cuban Missile Crisis the US ordered a Naval blockade (which it called a ‘quarantine’) on Cuba in 1962, between 22 October and 20 November of that year. The blockade was lifted when Russia agreed to remove its nuclear missiles from the Island. The embargo had been imposed earlier in February of the same year, and although modified from time to time, it is still in force.
Translated by Regina Anavy
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