"We drank a toast to innocence, we drank a toast to now…"

Cubans get many of their cultural traditions from either those lovely conquering Spaniards across the pond, or the Africans brought over on their slave ships. And we can actually thank Spanish grape growers for one in particular that we practice every New Year’s Eve. When grape growers in Alicante had a huge production surplus in 1909, they schemed up a way to cut down on it by selling them in town and asking folks to eat 12 of them on the Eve, one on each chime of the clock that sits atop the Casa de Correos building in Puerta del Sol square in Madrid. Mind you, none of them seemed to give a shit that it’s more than a little difficult to eat 12 grapes, gracefully spit out their seeds, hug and kiss loved ones, and drink cava (or cidra) all at once, and all by the 12th chime.

On New Year’s Eve, while most of us are all celebrating the end of the year and the coming of the new year, there is one person in each Cuban household in charge of grapes, otherwise known as The Grape Keeper. While everyone else is dancing, drinking and eating (sometimes all at once) one person will be in the kitchen laboriously counting grapes. You’ll walk into the kitchen for a few ice cubes to freshen up that Chivas on the rocks, and find the counter covered with little plastic cups, each with 12 grapes. The Grape Keeper’s job is not taken lightly by Cubans. It could be the difference between making or fucking up everyone’s upcoming year if you miscount.

A few minutes before midnight, the Grape Keeper will hand each person at the party their own little cup with the twelve grapes. You may be famished, though I’ve never seen a hungry person at a Cuban party, and the grapes may look deliciously juicy in your hand, but you can’t eat them. You have to wait until midnight, lest you get smacked in the back of your head by your 93-year-old grandmother (the one with the glass of Chivas).

At the stroke of midnight, while everyone else in the world is screaming, toasting, singing Auld Lang Syne, and hugging and kissing, we Cubans are eating the friggin’ grapes, one after the other, usually through a veil of tears, be they of happiness or remembrance. Some say each grape represents luck for each month, some say it’s so you always have food to eat in each of the coming twelve months. But we’re not stupid enough to rest our hopes of prosperity on ONE silly tradition. Nah. Just in case, we’re also wearing red underwear, walking around the block with our suitcase, and throwing a pail of water out the front door. Still not sure who to blame for those, but I’m pretty sure it involves Castro—it always does.

Happy New Year and sorry for being away so long!

Tagged as: cuban traditions, new year's eve, twelve grapes