You’re So Croqueta-ish

Why I originally went to La Fe turned out to be not the reason I ended up rather liking it after several visits.

I went because I’d read an ad that claimed the place was an eat-in café as well as a bakery, with salads and sandwiches that sounded hipper than traditional Latin fast-food sandwiches. The salads turned out to be a chicken salad that was never available. Neither were posted tuna sandwiches, or any nonmeat items. Eat-in tables were few.

But I ended up liking the place, having tried many items accidentally because of communications problems. I’ve got to admit that accidents happen to me fairly often when I try out Miami’s Latin eateries; not a problem I generally have in Spain, where I tend to receive what I thought I was ordering rather than some mystery item. Okay, wait, my semivegetarian partner did once go lunchless because I ended up with a croqueta de jamón instead of what I’d thought was a croqueta de salmón. But I certainly never ordered an empanada and ended up, as I did at La Fe, with a stuffed croissant.

That said, the croissant was much better than the empanada I later managed to order. The empanada’s shell, while tasty, was rather tough and, though I’m not fat-phobic, unnecessarily greasy. The croissant, on the other hand, was definitely more substantial than delicate French models, but still a lightly rich pastry casing for its flavorful pulled-chicken filling; not-too-salty ground ham stuffing was also good, but ground beef was dried out. The same fillings were available stuffed a bit too sparsely into pasteles that were tasty, but so flaky they should come with bibs.

Another accident turned out not quite so fortuitously, when I ordered what looked to be a very large croqueta — muy grande, but definitely oblong — and ended up with a papa rellena, an almost baseball-sized (though more than regulation weight) deep-fried sphere of fairly fake-tasting mashed potatoes stuffed with the same dry beef. But normal-sized croquetas were wonderful, creamy and with the kind of intense ham-ness that permeates a whole room.

Ham was also featured in jamón y queso or smooth pasta de jamón (ham spread) bocaditos, but less intensely since both types of two-bite sandwich, on medianoche-type slightly sweet soft rolls, were liberally spiked with sweet pickle relish.

Taste-testing La Fe’s pastries on a multicultural sampling of friends brought predictable results: Items that most of the Latins found heavenly were across-the-board too sugary for most of the non-Latins (including me). Still super-sweetness couldn’t prevent me from swooning over a smooth tocinillo del cielo, and while both flan de coco and crema catalana suffered from overstarchiness, flan de leche was irresistibly smooth, with a beautifully bitter caramelization in its syrup. A charlotte was marred by industrialized “whipped cream” — when a pastry is virtually nothing but whipped cream, nothing less than homemade whipped heavy cream will do — as was an otherwise impressive eight-layer dobo torte by bakery-mix “buttercream.” But a señorita de merengue was less cloying than many I’ve had elsewhere. Most pastries are $1, max.

As for nonsweet bakery items, regular Cuban bread had an interesting combination of soft texture and substantial, almost sourdoughish tang, and potent garlic bread rocked. And on one occasion, a big bag of homemade chicharróns, perfect as Puerto Rican-style crouton substitutes on a green salad I put together at home, was available for only a buck.

Those already beginning to obsess about holiday entertainment obligations will be pleased to know that many of La Fe’s savories are available in mini-versions, for relatively bargain prices: enough croqueticas, pastelitos, empanaditas, or stuffed croissants to feed 25, for $4-$13 (most at the lower price) — or a special mixed mini-assortment of 50 for $15 — is cause to party.