In Cuba, Wine Culture Grows

Meet Leo. He works as a waiter in a beautiful seaside resort. At the same time, he is studying to become a sommelier. A native speaker of Spanish, Leo is trying to learn French and German so that he can better understand the histories and traditions of important wine regions. He is also studying English, so that he can communicate better with his customers.

Often working 20-hour days, Leo says that time is his greatest obstacle in realizing his ambitions. But Leo is intelligent, strong and resourceful. Somehow, he will succeed.

Leo is the new face of Cuba. I met him during my recent visit there. Even as the unsuccessful, 50-year United States economic embargo continues, Cuba’s dictator Raul Castro is counting on tourism as a way out of the dire reality that trading sugar, tobacco and medical advice with other communist countries cannot sustain Cuba’s aging population. Although most businesses and properties in Cuba are still state-owned, Castro has loosened regulations just enough to allow a few enterprising citizens to run their own small, closely regulated restaurants (“paladares”) and B&Bs (“casas particulares”).

The restaurant where Leo works is one such paladar, Villa Lagarto (The Lizard), also known as Villa Delfines (The Dolphin) in Cienfuegos. Whether you call it dolphin or lizard, this is an extremely popular and busy place, hosting many tour groups of international travelers. Its specialty is meat, since selling seafood would put it in competition with the state-owned restaurants. Similarly, the casa particular where I stayed in Trinidad had no butter; all butter goes to state hotels. And while every menu in Cuba offers lamb, it’s really goat. There are no sheep in Cuba.

Paladar owners buy wines at retail in state stores, reselling them at whatever markup the trade will bear. Leo has his work cut out for him because the restaurant offers only five red wines, ranging in price from $25 to $75. Surprised as I was? Tourist Cuba isn’t cheap.

Chile’s megalithic Concha y Toro and Spain’s largest producer, Miguel Torres, dominate Cuba’s wine market. Leo may not know that Torres was founded by a young Catalan, Don Jaime Torres, who made a fortune in Cuba’s “sea trade” (slavery?) from 1855 to 1870, when he returned to Spain to reinvest his money in wine.

An aside—Cuba abolished its slave trade in 1867; it abolished slavery in 1886, when slaves accounted for 60 percent of the country’s population. As a black Cuban, if Leo were living in Cuba in 1855, he would also have worked 20 hours a day, not as a sommelier but as a slave harvesting sugar in the nearby plantations.

When I asked Leo how he managed to taste a variety of wines in order to learn about them, he—misunderstanding my question—showed me a carafe and pantomimed how he would decant a bottle. In truth, he must have very little chance to experience wine beyond reading about it. At present, he, like most Cubans, has no internet access, so his information on wine is limited. Still, Leo sees wine knowledge as a way to expand his career.

Meeting Leo was a poignant highlight of my Cuban visit. As the country opens up, and if the embargo is lifted, Cuba will still have to overcome its failing infrastructure, crumbling buildings, minimal technology, nonexistent communications, agriculture beset by invasive species, food and labor shortages—hey, they don’t even have fresh milk! All their milk comes powdered, from Brazil.

They already have more tourists (predominantly from Canada and, yes, the United States) than they can handle. As they struggle to restore their historic structures—most of Cuba’s native wood went to build Spanish palaces in the 19th century—the impact of tourists already erodes them. Property maintenance is not a Cuban habit.

The day I returned from Cuba, I heard that in our own tourist-dependent part of the world, the Long Island Merlot Alliance is celebrating its 10th year with a new director, Amy Zavatto. Like Leo, Amy is a student of wine. But unlike Leo, Amy lives in a free world. After growing up on Shelter Island, she now lives in Manhattan, where she hobnobs with chefs and sommeliers. A candidate for the Wine & Spirit Education Trust’s vaunted “Diploma,” she has traveled widely. Amy has written three books about wine and spirits, one—“The Renaissance Guide to Wine and Food Pairing”—with a chapter titled “How to be your own sommelier.”

Maybe I should send it to Leo.