From Cuba with Frijoles, Saints and Danzón: the Representation of Cuban-American Culture in Cristina García's Novels

The title of the chapter is a borrowing from the movie Chico and Rita, which is about the turbulent love story between the two characters that give the film its title.
The story is set both in Cuba and in the USA, and it focuses on music as well; Rita is a young singer who migrates to the United States, willing to forget her past, her homeland, her former lover and artistic partner Chico. She starts a new life and lives the American dream; to underline the separation from her origins she also adopts an art name, “Rita la Belle,” which makes her look more sophisticated and less Cuban. It is at the end of a performance that, after a long time, she meets Chico, who left Cuba as well, and their meeting meaningfully takes place in the kitchen; when the young man points out how she has totally changed and blames her for denying her cultural background, the girl’s answer is: “pero todavía me gustan los frijoles.” It is as if the short sentence were enough to demonstrate that she is still the very same girl who left the island in search of fortune in the States.
Food and dietary habits are often underestimated in relation to the discourse around identity, culture and stereotypes: they are too often considered minor details, while on the contrary the role they play is central and deserves a deeper analysis. In Latin countries in particular, food is among the most important cultural aspects, because it is not only a primary daily need but above all it is strictly intertwined with society. Italians know it very well, maybe better than any other country, and it is not a coincidence that one of the most famous scenes in the whole history of Italian cinema is the one from the movie An American in Rome in which Alberto Sordi tries to eat like an American, or at least as he thinks Americans do. He does not intend to eat maccheroni or drink red wine, rather he affirms that the proper food is American food and he intends to have an American meal, with jam, mustard, and milk. He eventually surrenders to the provocation of the maccheroni, eats them and leaves the “American” meal to cat and rat.
Food not only plays a major role in every nation’s cultural heritage; it is also important in relation to each region, town, or even family. Food is part of our daily routine and every time we eat it is not just to swallow proteins, fats, carbohydrates and sugars; what we do is also assimilating the history of our nation, the story of our family, and the love of those who have cooked for us. Different types of food have different meanings according to the different nations, cultures, and religions. Muslims are forbidden to eat pork, cannot assume alcohol, and are allowed to eat just halal meat; cattle is sacred in some religions such as Buddhism, Zoroastrianism and Hinduism, to the point that in countries like India its slaughter is prohibited and its meat taboo; any type of meat should be avoided by Christians on Fridays and during Lent; Judaism allows the assumption exclusively of kosher food.
For all these and other reasons, we can affirm that dietary habits are not a minor thing in our daily lives; they are not exclusively about eating for survival. On the contrary sometimes dietary habits are so important that to respect their own beliefs some people are ready to die instead, as in the episode told by Jonathan Safran Foer in his book Eating Animals. The author recalls how his grandmother during the Second World War in Europe was forced to travel from one village to the other searching for something to eat, and her survival was constantly at risk, depending on the availability of food.
She told the writer:
“The worst it got was near the end. A lot of people died right at the end, and I didn’t know if I could make it another day. A farmer, a Russian, God bless him, he saw my condition, and he went into his house and came out with a piece of meat for me.”
“He saved your life.”
“I didn’t eat it.”
“You didn’t eat it?”
“It was pork. I wouldn’t eat pork.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?”
“What, because it wasn’t kosher?”
“Of course.”
“But not even to save your life?”
“If nothing matters, there’s nothing to save.” (Foer, 2009: 16-17)
In Western countries eating is strictly related to culture, religion and family traditions; everybody grows up with dietary habits that will accompany him/her all life long. Nobody questions the validity of the principles we are taught when we are children and we believe in them as if they were unquestionable truths; vegetables are good, meat is good, fish is good too, do not eat too many sweets. Everybody has grown up with these certainties and with the constant availability of food.
Cuban dietary habits before the Revolution used to be similar to the ones of the other Caribbean nations and many other Latin countries; daily time was marked by the meals and plenty of time was dedicated to them. Everything changed after Castro’s victory, and the shift was dramatic especially for those families that used to be wealthy before the Revolution; even the simplest food, such as milk, which used to be a given in the daily routine, acquired a different meaning for an exile: “Every morning in our house was scented with the aroma of raw milk boiling with a little bit of salt.