My story goes back to Communist times in Cuba. I brought two because one my mother made to eat and the other one she hid under her bed. And the neighbors would come in, and ask at me, “Where’s the flan?” My mom was a very strong character. In the mid 60’s and late 70s, my mom and my dad didn’t have jobs because they were both professionals and when they asked to leave the country they were fired automatically for 8 years. We had no food at this time. She would give things out of the house and and she would make bags and say to me, “Today you go to downtown in Havana and you will sell these and come back with food.” But my favorite memory is the flan. I remember after a while we’d pull the second flan out from under the bed to eat. We did this so that neighbors couldn’t come in and take our flan.