They cater both to newly moneyed young Cubans, many of whom have hard currency from legalized jobs in the arts and design, and the steady influx of travelers from Europe, Canada, and Asia. Over the last year, new private restaurants-most of them far more like American or European eateries than the casual Bar Roma, although they are still called paladares-have once again begun opening their doors.

In fact, Cubans have kept doing what they do best: improvising. There was only one dish served-the classic lechón, a pulled pork sandwich, toasted at the bar and doused in garlic-and-herb mojo sauce-and it was utterly delicious, putting an end to any lingering suspicion that Cuban cuisine had died a slow Socialist death on the island.

The bathrooms were in neighbors' apartments guests would knock on a door, hand over a coin, and pass through a family's living room as they watched TV. Music was played by the DJ co-owner, Alain Medina, who had been quite literally born on the kitchen floor.

Visitors would uncertainly enter a semi-derelict foyer, pile into a rusty cage elevator, and rattle up to the top floor, only to stumble onto a gorgeous open-air rooftop patio filled with artsy young Cubans and expats. Hidden in a decaying apartment building in Old Havana, it was run by a Habanero and an American in a unique partnership. To Cubaphiles, the iconic hotspot of the Obama-era 'thaw,' when the decades-long U.S.-Cuban feud seemed on the verge of ending, was Bar Roma.

Eating in Havana has always felt a political affair.

Old havana restaurant