Cuando Salí de Cuba

It's hard to explain to people who have never been to or lived in a communist country that there are actually things that might be there that warm the heart or evoke memories that aren't harsh. As a grandchild of persons who had escaped the Holocaust, I know full well that there are places on the planet that some people would rather wipe completely from their memory.
I've never been to Cuba. In fact the only Spanish speaking countries that I have been to are Mexico and Costa Rica. Each country has it's own cuisine, spices, preferred drinks. Cuba is no exception. For me, I am more concerned with a flavorful meal rather than something that is laced with aromatic herbs or hot spices. I never understood the thrill of getting your tongue and pallet burned on a spice or of getting your nose offended by an herb that smells like armpit or soap.
Cuban food never seems to fail. Whether I'm having a piece of roasted chicken, plantains, white rice, black beans, or even a bowl of soup, I always find myself comforted by the dishes placed before me. Of course, it's a country that's run by a pretty oppressive regime and I would not want to spend much time there.