About Cuban Thai Kitchen

How was Cuban Thai Kitchen born?

If you don’t already know, my name is Dimitri Arozarena. I was born in Cuba; my wife, Sunantha, was born in Thailand; and somewhere between those two worlds, Cuban Thai Kitchen was born.

Cooking, for me, is how I show gratitude and love to friends and family, or friends that are family. Allow me to mention some of those that passed down to me traditions and skills I use today to put together the recipes I will share with you on this site.

My father was a Talabartero, a master leather artisan who could carve, sketch, design, and create true works of art from leather. But the kitchen was where his greatest works of art were created. He could be cooking the most amazing meal while telling the funniest jokes, looking truly happy and relaxed. Friends would walk from afar just to partake in the experience. He made the weekends truly magical. He was an incredible cook. We would never know if he was formally trained or if he was just that talented in the kitchen. His cooking was not classical; it was more improvised and practical, resulting in amazing flavors. He is the only Cuban I know that in Cuba was adding a little kick of spiciness to the food.

My mother learned her best cooking skills from my father, and then she taught me, starting with small tasks. “Peel the garlic.” “Clean the fish.” “Cut the chicken, and don’t cut yourself.” Since I was seven, I have been my mother’s sous-chef. By fourteen, I could handle the whole kitchen on my own. Along the way, she never let any of my twelve siblings discourage me. Everything I share here is my way of making my parents proud.

Thai cuisine entered my life through my wife, Sunantha. I’m honored to be taught authentic Thai dishes by the women in her family. These ladies are some of the most incredible cooks I have ever known.

Sunantha’s grandmother, Yai (“grandma” in Thai), lived on a property next to a traditional Thai temple, where she cooked for the monks every single day without fail. She grew her own vegetables and had several courses ready each morning until she simply could no longer do it, just a few years before she passed at 99 years old. I used to live on the same five acres, in a house right next to hers. Every time I visited, she would ask me in Thai, “Do you want some food?” and her table always had something ready. Her Thai fried bananas were her fiercest secret and are world-famous. During Thai temple parties they would always sell out, and she couldn’t make them fast enough. It was the only stall with a line of people.

Aunt Deem, she gave me the most important recipe of all, Yai’s fried bananas. I remember that day. We drove 45 minutes to her house to be there by 5 am. She was all ready to pass down the recipe to me. Yai had passed away, and it was so emotional and meaningful. Aunt Deem was teaching me, but I felt Yai holding my hands.

Aunt Da introduced me to Thai curries and wok-fried fish. I remember the day she was teaching Sunantha and me. I was so honored, and she was so detailed. She washed that rainbow trout with lime water before frying it, and I could see the love going into that fish with every hand rub. It was a beautiful thing to witness and listen to as her voice with her Thai accent made it unforgettable.

And Sunantha, my beautiful Thai wife, has cooked for me the most amazing Thai meals. The pose she takes when making papaya salad, sitting cross-legged on the floor like a Buddha, mortar and pestle in hand, is the most amazing view in the whole world. And her noodle soup has ruined all other soups for me. To this day it is the only soup I eat.

These Thai ladies have all honored me deeply. I hope you experience here, in Cuban Thai Kitchen, the same love for true cooking.