The Cuban Revolution — what a trip. Yeah, that one, too, but I’m talking about the version set up on Washington Street, dispensing white rice, black beans, Buena Vista Social Club CDs, and pumping vaguely left-wing sentiment into the air like sandalwood incense at a sitar concert. Socialist nostalgia as a high-concept enterprise in the Providence Arts District?

The store a few doors down from the little restaurant is bizarre enough, a little piece of the East Village, settled down like a flying saucer that got wrong directions. Items for sale inside are heavy on Che and light on Fidel, lest things get too real for us amidst the books, videos, posters, and T-shirts. The edgiest politics on display are the "Buck Fush" buttons. The last time I noticed, there was camouflage garb in the sidewalk window, making for a decidedly mixed message in this lefty political context — unless the whole concept is higher that I can detect and this is irony-slathered conceptual art by some skinhead or survivalist. (Actually, it’s the idea of proprietors Mary Morabito and husband Edward Morabito, formerly chief of staff to Linc Almond, so we’re not talking Weathermen here.)

Down at the restaurant, videos from the store play constantly. At different times, I caught a PBS special on the Bay of Pigs invasion and a bio of Che Guevara, closed captions competing for attention with the salsa from the wall speakers. The space is bowling alley-narrow, a row of small tables across an aisle from the line of counter stools. The place is visually as well as aurally intense, with carefree pre-revolutionary "Visit Cuba" posters alongside many images of Che and one of John Lennon, presumably singing "Imagine." A row of flavored syrups stand by to help spike espresso cups of already sweet Cuban coffee. For non-caffeinated drinks, there are fruit shakes — guava, strawberry, etc. — as well as sodas. (On second thought, watch the drinking — despite the camaraderie sales pitch, they won’t let you use the kitchen restroom facilities, which I’m surprised is legal.)

The coffee is enough reason for this place to exist. With a few tables on the sidewalk, there is now a place to sit and sip, and read the paper on Washington Street, as the traffic rumbles by, just like in a big city. And then there’s their Cuban sandwich, prepared Havana street vendor-style: pressed inside sweet bread are thin slices of roast pork, ham, salami, and Swiss cheese, accented by pickle chips and both mayonnaise and mustard. It’s not stuffed to excess with the cold cuts, as has become the Rhode Island tradition, but what’s there is enough for normal appetites and quite delicious. The sandwich is $5.85 with some tasty plantain chips, $8.50 on a platter with rice and beans, and $5.50 for a half sandwich with a cup of black bean soup.

Black beans and rice are the common element with most of the offerings here, along with a cup of chopped lettuce, tomatoes, and raw onions to sprinkle on. You can vary the guest of honor on the plate. The "Havana Platter" ($7.75) will have shredded pork or grilled chicken. The chicken is marinated to make it tasty, since the grilling is done on a flat grill rather than a wood one. You can also get that chicken in a burrito ($5.25), which in Cuban style contains rice and beans instead of refritos.

On one visit, I had the other principal Cuban traditional dish on the menu, ropa vieja ($8.25). Instead of beans on the rice, it had a stewed and slightly spiced shredded beef. The name of the dish means "old clothes," but fortunately that refers only to how the simple dish looks.

Simplicity is the food rule here, but I was glad to see a minimal complexity with the fried plantains ($2.50). Both tostones (green) and maduros (ripe) are available, and since I much prefer the sweet latter version, I was pleased. A sweet tooth might be more fully satisfied by coconut or guava sorbet ($3.75), or the densely fudge-y Havana chocolate cake ($3.75). I wouldn’t try the flan ($3.25) again. Not only did it taste like a refrigerator, it seemed to have been thickened with gelatin instead of egg yolk.

This Cuban Revolution is probably less removed from the original Sierra Maestra idealism than the current Havana, with its jails full of poets and political dissidents. If Fidel himself could betray the ideals that revolutionaries died for, how far afield can it be to sell chai con leche in its name?