Lillian Heckler Portfolio

september 2023

In 1966, with the help of Fidel Castro and his love of dairy, a chain of ice cream parlors called “Coppelia” opened their doors in Havana, Cuba. Since then, tourists flock to the state-run shop in order to capture the essence of Cuba in a lick. 

For those who know of the original Coppelia, hearing that one exists on 14th Street in New York City is an exciting discovery. However, the two restaurants are extremely different. The Coppelia of NYC is open nearly 24/7 and promises all-day breakfast at reasonable prices. Upon first glance at the menu, though, I recognized that I was in for much more. The variety was astounding, and the dinner entrees sounded good enough to make me reconsider my decision to eat strictly breakfast. 

The atmosphere inside wasn’t exactly like being transported to a foreign country, but it got pretty close. The positions of each neon light, Cuban advertisement, and bottle of liquor were calculated — and the math checked out. We scanned a QR code (cleverly hidden on the back of an engraved wooden holder) and eagerly began our journey.

The server–wearing a Cracker Barrel-reminiscent uniform–presented us with our drinks in slender, elegant glasses. The cups easily tricked me into believing that my orange juice was some elaborate alcoholic beverage. However, the drink required no vodka to enhance its flavor. The orange juice was pulpy, pulling me back to nifty childhood attempts at squeezing fresh juice from a bag of tangerines. 

Our plates arrived soon after, boasting impressive colors considering their focus on rice and beans. As a nod to breakfast, but with acknowledgment of the importance of dinner, our lineup consisted of a buttermilk waffle, vegetarian enchiladas, and huevos rancheros. The waffle gave off an appearance of crispness but revealed itself to be cakey-er in texture, though I quickly forgot this as the flavor took over. It was warm and syrupy and I cleared the plate without much effort.

The vegetarian enchiladas were slightly disappointing, as the filling was merely sauteed spinach. I wasn’t impressed by the white rice–it had a gummy texture that I couldn’t push past enough to take a second bite. A poblano-heavy salsa verde, a few pickled onions, and a sprinkling of queso fresco coated the tortilla, which granted the meal a bit more substance. 

The huevos rancheros applied the same elements, but it was as if someone had turned the volume up twenty clicks. The salsa verde took on a mysterious smoky flavor, the pickled onions tickled the back of my throat, and the queso fresco added a sweet edge to the otherwise incredibly savory meal. The eggs rested on a bed of rice and beans, which were so exquisitely spiced–garlic, bay leaves, oregano, cumin–that they transformed into a meal of their own. My palate, happily doused in flavor, did not require a dessert to satiate its usual sweet cravings at the end of the meal. I had found my perfect match.

While the Coppelia of New York is privately-owned and ice cream fails to appear on its menu, I can understand how the two restaurants connect. They both exist as a capsule of Cuban culture, bustling with characters and richly flavored food.