Malangas and Mangoes with a Cuban Minyan

Reprinted with the permission of Reform Judaism magazine, published by the Union for Reform Judaism.

“Seven men, two Torahs and God.” That was the definition of a minyan in Cuba for decades. Today the Torahs and God no longer need to be counted.

Last June, my husband and I co-chaired a humanitarian medical mission to Cuba through the combined efforts of the Jewish Federation of Greater Dallas and the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee. Bringing much-needed medical supplies and clothing to the community was the primary objective of the mission. But as RJ‘s cooking columnist, I had another objective: to learn about culinary traditions on an island long sequestered from the Western world.

Mangoes are one of the few readily available fruits in Cuba.

After the revolution in 1959, 90 percent of Cuba’s Jews fled, leaving the poor, elderly, and party-affiliated behind. The once-vibrant community of 20,000-plus Jews was reduced to a remnant of 1,200. Two generations of Jews grew up with little religious learning or observance.

In 1992, Castro relaxed his restrictions on religious observance, and for the first time in 30-plus years, the Jewish community outwardly embraced its heritage. As part of Shabbat observance, members petitioned successfully for a weekly ration of chicken. Now, every Friday night some 370 members of the approximately 1,500-member community come together to pray and enjoy Shabbat dinner in Havana, Camaguey, and Santiago de Cuba.

Today’s Cuban Jewish food bears little resemblance to the flavorful recipes of pre-revolutionary kitchens. Traditionally, the tastes of Spain, Africa, and the Caribbean were blended with exotic spices brought from the Middle East and China. Sofrito (a combination of onion, green pepper, and tomatoes mixed with other optional ingredients), for example, added color and flavor to many entrées and side dishes. But few of the foods Cubans once enjoyed have been plentiful since the revolution. Nitza Villapol, a popular television personality who taught generations of Cubans how to cook in the ’50s, had the difficult task in the ’60s of teaching cooking to a population on a ration-book allotment with little or no access to meat, milk, or the array of spices typical of classical Cuban cuisine.

It is still difficult to obtain meat rations in Cuba. Fish, too, is scarce because all fishing boats are outlawed (to prevent their being used to ferry people to Florida). Milk rations stop when a child turns 8. For protein Cubans consume rice and beans. Vegetables and fruits are scarce because much of the arable land is used either to cultivate tobacco or sugarcane for rum export or left fallow.

Fried plantains are a common side dish in Cuban cuisine.

At the Patronato Synagogue, which serves as the community’s cultural and religious center, I watched Tanya, one of the kitchen staff, prepare little fritters from a root that looked like a cross between a turnip and a daikon radish. The long, white, pink-tinged malanga–also known as dasheen, cocoyam, or more commonly taro–can be substituted for potatoes in many recipes. Immediately I had an idea. I’d been told how difficult it was to buy potatoes for latkes, and since in Jewish culinary tradition recipe variations have long been a natural outgrowth of necessity, I said, “Why not use malanga instead of potato for latkes?” Tanya agreed that the substitution made sense. (No one wanted to curb my enthusiasm by telling me malanga wasn’t easy to come by either.)

So what foods do Cuban Jews eat? A small salad of cabbage, tomato, cucumber, and green beans was presented as a first course wherever we ate. Few vegetables and fruits were served–fried plantain, a small wedge of mango, a sweet dessert sauce made from guava, and a few pieces of potato. Chicken was prepared fricassee-style with potatoes or baked with lime, oil, and garlic (sometimes), onion (sometimes), salt (no pepper), and cumin. Occasionally chicken was also cooked with salsa china (soy sauce)–a reminder of the Chinese communist influence in Cuba.

In Santa Clara, our group was delighted by Claudia Barlia, 6, who got up to sing a new song she said she had learned just for us. As the sweet sounds of “Yerushalayim Shel Zahav” filled the room, tears of joy came to our eyes and a look of shocked amazement appeared on Claudia’s face as we all joined in. We came from far away, and yet we were one people. She knew she was not alone.

As you enjoy the Cuban Jewish recipes that follow, let them be a reminder: Am Yisrael Chai!

Frituras de Malanga

This is how Tanya taught me to make malanga fritters. Malanga, or taro root, has a very mild flavor and is light and crisp when fried.

2 medium malanga or taro root, about 1 pound (available in Spanish markets)
1 small onion
1 teaspoon white or apple cider vinegar
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 egg
1 Tablespoon finely chopped parsley (optional in Cuba)
Freshly ground black pepper (optional in Cuba)
Vegetable oil for frying

  1. Peel the malanga. Grate, using the finest grating disk on your processor. Grate the onion in the same way. Replace the grating disk with the steel blade and pulse on about 20 times until the pieces are quite small but not mushy. Transfer to a bowl. Alternatively, grate the malanga and onion on the fine side of a grater and place in a bowl.
  2. Add the remaining ingredients except the oil and mix well.
  3. Heat about 1 inch of oil in a frying pan until very hot, about 375°F.
  4. Using a teaspoon, drop the mixture into the hot oil. Fry until golden on each side.
  5. Drain on paper towels.
  6. Serve with Mojo sauce, sour cream, apple sauce, or salsa. Yield: approximately 40 small fritters.

Mojo Sauce

The ubiquitous orange trees in Andalusia are not the sweet variety we associate with Valencia; they were probably brought to this region with the Spanish conquistadores. Sour orange juice is now a common ingredient in Cuba, confirming its roots in Spanish and possibly Jewish cooking (the first Spaniard to set foot on Cuba was a Jew–Columbus’ scout).

1/4 cup olive oil
6 large cloves garlic, finely minced
1/2 cup sour orange juice or 1/4 cup orange juice and 1/4 cup lime juice
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

  1. Heat a 1-quart saucepan for 15 seconds. Add the olive oil and heat for 10 seconds.
  2. Add the garlic and cook for 20 seconds or until it just starts to get lightly golden. Do not let the garlic brown or the sauce will become bitter.
  3. Add the remaining ingredients and bring to a rolling boil. Cook for three minutes.
  4. Remove the sauce from the heat. Adjust the seasonings if necessary and chill until ready to serve with the fritters or on top of vegetables, meats, or fish. Yield: approximately 1 cup of sauce.

Tina’s Tidbits:

To prevent fried food from absorbing excess oil, add a small amount of vinegar.

If you crumble your paper towels, you’ll have more surface area to absorb oil from fried foods.

Grilled Chicken Breasts with Sofrito

The cooks at Adath Israel (a small, vibrant Orthodox synagogue established by Polish Jews in the ’20s) told me that they either bake chicken with a simple marinade or make chicken fricassee with a basic sofrito. I combined the two into one recipe.

1-1 1/2 pounds boneless chicken breasts
1/4 cup lime juice
2 Tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 Tablespoon soy sauce

  1. Remove the fillet from the underside of the chicken breasts.
  2. Combine the remaining ingredients in a glass bowl or casserole.
  3. Add the chicken breasts and fillets and marinate for 2 or more hours in the refrigerator.
  4. Grill the chicken on both sides for a total of approximately 7 minutes, until it is cooked but still moist and tender. Alternatively, heat 1 Tablespoon of oil in a frying pan and sauté the chicken–about 3 minutes per side, until it is done in the center and golden on both sides.
  5. Set the chicken aside, reserving the marinade. Keep warm until you’re ready to serve with the sofrito sauce. Serves 3-4 people.

Sofrito Sauce

3 Tablespoons olive oil
1 large onion, diced into 1/2 -inch dice
3 Roma tomatoes, seeded and chopped
1 green pepper, diced into 1/2 -inch dice
4 large cloves of garlic, minced
1 bay leaf
1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon crushed dried oregano
1/3 cup Cream Sherry
3.5 ounces pimento-stuffed green olives, coarsely sliced
1/2 cup dark raisins
Salt to taste

  1. Heat a 10-inch frying pan over high heat for 15 seconds. Add the olive oil and heat for another 10 seconds. Add the onion and sauté for 4 minutes or until lightly golden.
  2. Add the diced green pepper and the diced tomatoes and continue to cook for another 4 or 5 minutes until the vegetables are soft. Add the remaining ingredients except the olives and raisins and let the mixture cook over low heat for 3 more minutes. Set aside.
  3. After the chicken is cooked, reheat the sofrito and add the marinade.
  4. Bring to a boil over medium heat. Add the olives and raisins. Simmer for 3 minutes.
  5. Return the sautéed chicken to the pan with the sauce to warm and serve. Alternatively, serve the grilled chicken on a platter topped with sauce.

Tina’s Tidbits:

The fillet of the chicken breast has a white pearlized tendon running through it. To ensure even cooking of the breast, this tendon needs to be removed.

To seed a tomato, cut it in half crosswise and hold it over the sink, cut side down. Gently squeeze and shake–all the seeds should fall out. Voilà!


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Author: 18Doors