Thyme After Time: Get the Cubans! (Hand Rolled Cubans)

Cuban Rolls

It was my first week in a new city. It was the perfect part time job. Not only would it help to take care of a few moving expenses, it would help me get to know a new city better. I could meet new people. I could learn the roads. It was a win win situation. What could go wrong?

My new part time job was working as an inner city courier. I was to deliver local odds and ends, from one person to another, one business to another...pretty much whoever and whatever needed a delivery. My first pick up was at a local restaurant. It was pretty nondescript, a handful of people dotted throughout, reading papers, grabbing a quick bite before moving on with their day. I was led down a back hallway, passing a few characters standing around and oddly doing nothing, to the doorway of the kitchen.

I overheard a few snippets of conversation before making myself known. The manager, very intense, was pacing, wondering where I was. I cleared my throat and introduced myself, explaining I was here for the package.

"This has to go directly to this address. Don't stop anywhere else. Go directly there. If you screw this up like the last guy...well, you don't want to know what happened to him."
A cook nearby laughed, waving his chef's knife.
"Are those the hand rolled Cubans?" another cook looked around the corner.
"If you don't get back in that kitchen and start working, you're going to be in the same place as the last courier too!"

Well, this was uncomfortable. I wondered how reputable this delivery company was. I also wondered what did happen to the last courier. This guy wanted me to go fast? No problem. I wanted to get this delivery over with as soon as possible. I was handed a box and warned once again to go directly to the given address.

I left with the box. This is where things got really crazy. As I slipped into my car, so did the man who was standing around by the kitchen.
"Let's go." he said.
I asked him to get out of my car so I could finish a delivery.
"Hand over the box."
"I don't plan on getting fired on my first delivery, thank you. Get out of my car." I stepped on the gas and he almost fell out. The warnings from the restaurant guys were still very fresh.
Fighting with this guy wasn't an option. He was pretty big (and I had never been in a fight in my life.)I backed into the space I was just in, grabbed the box, hit the car alarm and ran down the street. I was sure that the delievery was within walking distance.
Luckily I saw a traffic cop heading toward the man who had gotten in my car. The alarm was still blaring as I disappeared around the corner.
I caught my breathe, made sure the box was still in tact and headed up the street. The destination was only a few blocks away. Unfortunately, the man caught up to me and grabbed the box. He was now running with it down the street. I took a deep breathe and ran after him. I caught up to him relatively quickly and grabbed the back of his coat. The zipper caught his neck and he came to a halt.
"Go home. This is something you don't want to be involved with." the man warned.
"I'm finishing my delivery." I stubbornly said. "I was warned not to let anything happen to the box."
"Well, I'm warning you, go home." he gruffly stated. He was obviously trying to catch his breath. He must not be used to running.
Hmmmm, I thought. I grabbed the box back and halfway through a sprint, he grabbed my coat and neither of us went anywhere.
"Lady, I'm an agent working for the..."
Before he could finish his sentence or I knew what was going on, a man on a bike whizzed by grabbing the box, heading to the apartments in front of us. They were the same apartments the delivery was to be made.
We both looked at each other, stunned, and in unison took off toward the apartments.
There was the bike, abandoned at the base of the stairwell. We headed up the stairs, to the delivery spot. There was the biker, box in hand, knocking at a door.
"Hey!" We both yelled.
"You guys aren't getting my job!" The man yelled back.
"What?"
"My job. I'm the delivery guy."
"No, I am."
"I don't care right now who any of you are! Hand over the box!" The big guy stormed through both of us grabbing at the box as the apartment door opened.
An old man stood in the doorway, sizing all of us up. "Who's got my lunch?" he asked, looking at each of us.
The biker handed over the box and a grin came over his face. The old man grabbed the box and slammed the door.
The big guy turned the handle and barged in, almost knocking us over in the process. I couldn't leave now. I peeked in the doorway, along with the curious biker.
"I thought they killed you." I whispered to the biker/ex-courier.
"Why would you think that?"
"They told me they would do the same thing they did to you if I messed up the delivery."
"Well, they fired me."
"Huh, so they didn't kill you."
"Um, no. It was only a lunch delivery, to the owners father. His mom helps at the restaurant. For lunch she'll send him something special. Fridays she sends him hand rolled Cubans."
"Cigars? But those are illegal."
"No, you idiot...Cuban Sandwiches. She rolls them in puff pastry dough."

We watched as the big guy pulled out his badge confiscating the old man's lunch. He opened it to find, just as the biker stated, a box full of hand rolled Cuban sandwiches. He looked as dumbfounded as I felt. It seemed I wasn't going to be the only one losing my job.

The cop just stood there mumbling. "I have them on tape. I've been doing this for months. This can't be."
A quick phone call by the old man and we were escorted to nearest police station. The big guy had a lot more explaining to do than we did. No charges were filed but the next week, all three of us were standing in line at the unemployment office.
As for the old man? He's enjoying hand rolled Cubans...straight from his son's restaurant. Well, almost.

Ingredients

1 Sheet Puff Pastry Dough
a little flour
2 Smoked Pork Chops, deboned, shredded and divided into 6 piles
6 Slices of Deli Ham
6 Dill Pickles Slices (I used Vlassic Stackers)
Yellow Mustard
1 Egg, beaten

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
The Puff Pastry sheet is usually folded into thirds. Cut the thirds so that you have 3 separate pieces of pastry dough.
Sprinkle a little four on your table and coat your rolling pin with a little flour as well.
Roll each third out so it becomes a very long rectangle.
Cut the rectangle in half.
You now have two rectangles.
You will do this for the other two sheets as well.
Take each sheet and at the very end of the rectangle, layer the swiss cheese, smoked pork chop, ham, pickle and mustard.