"Intriguing Cuba: politics, food, and murder?"
Reviewed by Debbie Wiley
Posted June 1, 2018
Mystery Culinary | Suspense Psychological
Matt Sullivan arrives in Havana, Cuba, full of hopes and dreams. He's in Havana to see his girlfriend, Yarmila Portal, and he hopes she will accept his marriage proposal. Instead, he finds her dead body, his passport yanked by La Seguridad, and is deemed a person of interest in her death. Did Yarmila have a secret life?
I couldn't resist a book set in Cuba, particularly since I had the pleasure of visiting the city of Havana last summer. Teresa Dovalpage does a magnificent job at describing the beauty of Havana, a city caught in the past where the only cars on the road are classic cars, such as Studebakers. Teresa Dovalpage's exquisite descriptions of both the city and the food make me long to revisit Cuba and once again walk among the historic buildings.
Matt, on the other hand, isn't the most likable of characters. It's hard not to feel sorry for him initially as the idea of being anywhere without the protections we've grown accustomed to in the United States is frightening and the loss of one's passport is simply chilling. However, he's so gullible and wishy-washy that it's hard to truly like him, particularly when his character deficits had me cringing. There are a couple twists regarding his character near the end that had me scratching my head in confusion as they seemed somewhat superfluous to the story line.
Fortunately, however, Matt's character doesn't detract from the overall intriguing story that Teresa Dovalpage has for readers. DEATH COMES IN THROUGH THE KITCHEN delves into the politics of Cuba just before (and during) the Black Spring of 2003 and offer some interesting insights into the fear that permeated the country during that time. Oddly enough, Matt's gullibility helps accentuate the overall atmosphere of secrecy and suspicion as he stumbles along, trying to understand what happened to his girlfriend and worrying about his confiscated passport.
DEATH COMES IN THROUGH THE KITCHEN is an intriguing murder mystery that is heavy with political undertones. Teresa Dovalpage's exploration of Cuba will have readers wanting to walk the streets of Havana and taste the scrumptious foods described in Yarmila's blog. I'll definitely be reading more by Teresa Dovalpage as DEATH COMES IN THROUGH THE KITCHEN is a compelling, albeit frustrating read as we see a country caught in the past and full of mistrust of both the police and the government. If you enjoy a good mystery and don't mind unreliable characters, then take a trip to Havana and give DEATH COMES IN THROUGH THE KITCHEN a try.
SUMMARY
Matt, a San Diego journalist, arrives in Havana to marry
his girlfriend, Yarmila, a 24-year-old Cuban woman whom
he first met through her food blog. But Yarmi isn’t there
to meet him at the airport, and when he hitches a ride to
her apartment, he finds her lying dead in the bathtub. With Yarmi’s murder, lovelorn Matt is immediately
embroiled in a Cuban adventure he didn’t bargain for. The
police and secret service have him down as their main
suspect, and in an effort to clear his name, he must
embark on his own investigation into what really
happened. The more Matt learns about his erstwhile
fiancée, though, the more he realizes he had no idea who
she was at all—but did anyone?
ExcerptBetter than birthday cake Tocino del cielo is flan’s decadent, slutty cousin. Tocino means bacon. But tocino del cielo (or tocinillo, as
it is also known) is a misleading term. The reason why a
dessert that falls in the same category as flan and egg
custard is named after cured pork has always eluded me. The
del cielo part is easier to understand: it was “from
heaven”—where people used to think everything good came
from. When I was a little girl, I always got a tocinillo for my
birthday. Meringue cake? Forget it. We were given one every
year through the ration card, but I was happy to let the
party guests have it. I’ll tell you a little secret: though my grandmother Hilda
was the kitchen’s queen, it was mom who made the best
tocinillo. Mom had “the touch” for sweets, and this is
something you don’t learn. Either you have it or you don’t.
In most dishes, particularly those involving egg yolk,
butter and sugar, you need to find el punto de caramelo,
that specific, indefinable moment when it’s done. Mom’s soups or stews didn’t always turn out right, but she
got the right punto for tocinillo and flan. She didn’t brag
about it, though—and she wasn’t being deferential. She
didn’t want to embarrass Grandma, who was la reina. But she
was also afraid that if her talents were recognized she
would be asked to cook more often. That, my friends, didn’t sit well with her. Mom was, and
is, a liberated woman, a career woman, not a housewife.
Though born and raised in a rural town, she was rather
avant-garde. She managed the local clinic and served as the
president of the Cuban Federation of Women in our block.
She was also active with the Committee for the Defense of
the Revolution, where she was elected treasurer twice. But
housework she didn’t enjoy. Would you like to try her tocinillo? Then follow my
instructions. But be warned—this isn’t an easy recipe. Start by making the syrup. Boil half a cup of water and a
cup of sugar with a few drops of lemon for ten minutes,
stirring constantly. (Keep an eye on it all the time, as
syrup is one of these unpredictable sweet sauces that gets
burned when you least expect it.) Then allow it to cool. While you are at it, heat half a cup of sugar (again stir,
stir!) in a smaller container. Put it aside. Now, let’s start with the tocinillo as such. Beat five
yolks and two whole eggs together. But do not overbeat! I
think mom’s success lay in the fact that she didn’t beat
eggs as if they were going to be used for, let’s say,
merenguitos. Make sure they are well mixed, however. Add the syrup and a bit of vanilla extract—one teaspoon
will suffice. Then strain it, using a colander, pour
everything into a pan, and get ready for the most difficult
step: the baño de María. Baño de María, which my Yuma boyfriend calls “water bath,”
consists of putting a small pan inside a large one and
adding hot water to the larger pan until it reaches halfway
up the side of the small one. (Did I confuse you already?) The small pan, naturally, is where you pour in the strained
mixture. Be careful not to burn yourself with the hot
water, as I have done so many times. That explains why I am
not a fan of baño de María! Bake in the oven for around an hour. Next, turn the
tocinillo over on a plate and drizzle it with the burned
sugar. Refrigerate for three or four hours and enjoy. You
deserve it! Comments Cocinera Cubana said…. Hola, Yarmi! One way of avoiding the water bath hassle is
using a pressure cooker. Place the tocinillo mold inside
and boil for around fifteen minutes. Maritza said… Yes, this is complicated! Not just the water bath, but
everything else. It will take me a whole day, I am afraid.
Better to buy it at Versailles, hehe. Anita said… I’d rather wait until I go to Havana and try your
tocinillo, dear. Yarmi said… Cocinera, you are right, the pressure cooker is a
possibility, but I am ashamed to say that it scares me to
death. A childhood trauma! So here is the story: when I was
five years old, a neighbor’s pressure cooker exploded and
she was left badly disfigured. I do own one, but only use
it in emergencies. Maritza, I bet that if you make your own tocinillo, you
won’t need Versailles at all. Anita, I will make one just for you when you come. Besitos, Yarmi
What do you think about this review?
Comments
No comments posted.
Registered users may leave comments.
Log in or register now!
|
© 2003-2024 off-the-edge.net
all rights reserved Privacy Policy