Omar S.
Yelp
The morning started roughly. Breakfast at Sergio's Restaurant (Coral Way) was bad, and now I grumbled at traffic as I began the long drive from Miami to Punta Gorda. I was frustrated at having wasted my time and money, and a rare opportunity for this California boy to eat a Cuban breakfast.
I'd chosen Sergio's over several nearby spots, including El Brazo Fuerte Bakery, which was on my list to visit later that week, as my search continued for the best pastelito de guayaba y queso in the Greater Miami area.
And suddenly, because my stomach is the brains of the outfit, I thought, "I bet a pastelito will make me feel better. Where exactly is El Brazo?" I checked Yelp, and damned if the bakery wasn't just around the corner.
It might have seemed lot, asking El Brazo Fuerte's pastry to unscrew my morning. But the place had simply to sell me the best pastelito de guayaba y queso I'd ever tasted, and everything would be fine. I mean, I'm not unreasonable.
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I grabbed one of El Brazo's few parking spots and walked into the bakery.
The tiny, teeming bakery.
I grabbed a number and lined up with a dozen others, and soon I saw that the counter ladies had developed a simple, neighborly "Take A Number" system:
- If the next in line was a regular customer, they'd be served in turn.
- Sometimes, the counter ladies wouldn't call a number at all; they'd recognize an acquaintance, and, ignoring the waiting line of customers, call their friend forward, and chat pleasantly in Spanish with the person as they filled their request.
- Numbers were provided to us gringos and other strangers to make us feel included, but the system definitely wasn't set up for us.
I ought to have grown grumpier, but I was consoled by the laid-back mood of these friends, and I soon found myself imbued with irrational patience.
It was all so familiar. I've lived in rural places and tiny towns, where "Hi!" isn't just a greeting, it's a conversation starter. And, you know, someone has to ask how Mariposa's cousin's surgery went.
What's more, as I waited, my spirits were lifted by the bakery's lovely aromas - yeast and flour and caramelizing sugar, and by the sight of my beloved pastry, waiting for me in the display case.
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Eventually, all good things come to pass. I made it to the counter and used my rough Spanish to order what I wanted. It was delivered quickly, and by God, all of the day's grief and grumbling and frustration and curiosity and patience were rewarded by a nearly perfect pastelito de guayaba y queso.
Okay, if I'm being honest, I bought a box of six of them.
Plus two for the car.
And a cafecito.
The puff pastry was neither greasy nor dry, but was instead crisp and buttery, like the best croissant. And it was chewy and slightly dense just under its "skin". But, best of all, El Brazo Fuerte's pastelito was more fully-packed with guava paste and cream cheese than any I've eaten, anywhere in the US or Cuba.
It was a perfectly wonderful end to a very bad morning.
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Sergio's Restaurant (Coral Way): https://www.yelp.com/biz/sergios-restaurant-miami-58
My Trip to Havana: https://www.yelp.com/biz/norwegian-cruise-lines-sky-miami?hrid=Lb7LrFGnrNEzTmdigBvfuQ