Food52
I’m fairly certain this sandwich would never have happened, had I not married my husband nearly 39 years ago. You see, he’s from Tampa, Florida, where they make a killer Cuban sandwich. I’d never even heard of a Cuban sandwich before he took me there for the first time. You can get them everywhere in Tampa. Mine’s a bit different. Let me explain. (This is where the “made with love” bit comes in . . . .). Years ago, when my boys and their cousins were little, my parents started hosting an annual beach week on North Carolina’s Outer Banks. My mother would prepare for beach week every year by roasting a turkey and a ham shortly before they’d drive down from Northern Virginia. A week or so in advance she’d make an enormous batch of pulled pork, which she’d freeze and bring, along with all kinds of other family favorite treats. Everyone looked forward to that pulled pork. One year, when I commented on how much work my mother had done, getting ready for the beach, she simply said, “It’s a labor of love, dear. I enjoy every minute of it.” In time I started making pulled pork, too, eventually taking a sharp turn south from the simple vinegar based pulled pork of Eastern Carolina, to incorporate the flavors of a “Cuban adobo” herb and spice blend inspired by a blend suggested by Jerry Traunfeld in one of his books on cooking with herbs. It was only a matter of time before I started making Cuban sandwiches with my Cuban adobo-rubbed pork. And “made with love” this sandwich certainly is. Whenever I make pork shoulder for my boys, we talk about my mother, and the wonderful times we had with our extended family at the beach. The Cuban sandwich brings back fond memories of our trips to Boca Grande (via Tampa) with the boys’ other grandmother and their cousins on my husband’s side. This sandwich brings together both sides of our family, reminding us all of the love we shared in our gatherings with each. ;o) P.S. Now that my boys are grown, when we get together and I have planned and prepared many of their favorite things to eat, someone invariably thanks me for that. To which I always reply, “It’s a labor of love, dear, and I enjoy every minute of it.” ;o)