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“What the hell is a botanical bar?” Sylvie asked as they joined the long line of patrons waiting to try one of the drinks on the limited menu.
“I don’t know,” Lauren admitted. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“How do you think they got that pork belly so tender and that skin so crunchy?”
“A long precook period,” Lauren guessed. “I wonder what they put in the brine.”
Sylvie tilted her head to the side and closed her eyes, engaging her entire body in the act of remembering. “Citrus for sure,” she decided, her eyes still closed. “Wine maybe or some kind of unusual vinegar?”
Lauren nodded. “Not any vinegar I’ve come across, but you’re right, maybe wine.”
“A cheap dessert wine,” Sylvie guessed.
“That sounds possible.”
Sylvie propped her hand on her hips. “Why do you sound so freaking surprised? What do you think? That I’m a rube who only knows about guava paste and pressed ham?”
Lauren laughed as her chest lightened. She loved the way Sylvie’s eyes brightened when she bitched. The way her mouth moved when she snapped.
What the hell is wrong with me? Do I have some kind of Stockholm Syndrome?
Lauren cocked her head to the side. “I mean . . . I still don’t know what you’ve done since high school. Did you have some kind of culinary journey?”
They moved up the line.
“Remember those like five minutes we were allowed to travel to Cuba? I went for a month. Ate my way from Pinar del Río in the west to Santiago in the east.”
Lauren raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Shut up, you did not.”
Smiling, Sylvie straightened, obviously proud of her achievement. “I did.” She pulled her phone out of a little pocket on the side of her leggings. “I even sprained my ankle climbing the steps to see La Caridad del Cobre.”
Lauren took the phone opened to a photo of Sylvie. Behind her, an impressive basilica grew out of lush green hills and framed by palm trees.
“What was it like?”
“It was . . .” Sylvie looked like she was going to say something she’d rehearsed before thinking better of it. “Honestly? It was nothing like I expected. We grew up hearing these stories, right? How incredible it all was. Gleaming cars, the Tropicana nightclub, promenading on El Malecón by the ocean. . .” She sighed. “It’s like only the animated skeletons are left. The people there are seriously tapped. So many people I met were just desperate for a chance at something else.”
Her fair skin ignited with color. All Lauren could do was listen, captivated by the passion that vibrated through her body as she spoke.
“There was this one woman, Gisela, she had her own paladar. A four table restaurant she was running out of her house.” Sylvie held her fist to her chest. “Lou, you’ve never tasted a better tamale in your life. I don’t even like tamales, okay? But this was orgasmic. And she’s just going to languish there. A culinary genius making amazing meals out of scraps. Imagine if she had half of what we have. She’d put us both out of business.”
Lauren had a million questions, but she only got to ask a handful of them before they were finally at the front of the line.
“What do you recommend?” Sylvie asked the bartender, taking the lead instead of acting like she was being dragged along against her will.
“My favorite is the cloister. It’s gin, freshly-squeezed lemon juice, some rosemary and rose petal simple syrup, fresh mint leaves, a splash of soda water, and a drop of orange blossom water.”
“Sounds good,” Lauren replied when Sylvie seemed stuck on the description.
When the bartender turned away to grab two chilled martini glasses, Sylvie leaned in close enough for Lauren to smell her shampoo. The floral fragrance mixing with the fresh garden scent swirling around them made Lauren’s head feel light.
“This is going to taste like drinking my grandma’s perfume, isn’t it? Like there’s no way this is going to taste good,” Sylvie whispered, her cheek grazing Lauren’s as she neared.
Sylvie pulled back, but her parted lips remained close enough to kiss. “I don’t know,” she whispered, her attention drifting from Sylvie’s mouth to her radiant eyes. “I haven’t drank her perfume in a while.”
When a slow smile crept over Sylvie’s lips, Lauren had to seriously resist the urge to kiss them.
“Yup, that’s abuela territory,”Sylvie decided as she sipped the drink adorned with colorful pansies.
