She came from Cuba in 1985. She’s been at the window at Sergio’s practically ever since.

My name is Iris Dalia Diaz. I was born in Camaguey, Cuba, in 1949. I left Cuba in 1985 to go to Guatemala, and then Mexico, and then I arrived in the United States later that same year.

I had a friend from Camaguey who worked at Sergio’s Cuban Kitchen & Bar and he told me, “When there’s an opportunity, you’re going to come to Sergio’s.”

In 1987, the opportunity came about and I started immediately at the Sergio’s on Bird Road at 93rd Avenue. I’ve been working at the same location and at the same spot, the counter, since I moved to Miami.

At the counter, I make cafecitos — cortadito, café espresso, colada, café con leche. Customers really like the café con leche.

We also serve croquetas, empanadas, papa rellena, sandwiches — everything that people want to take with them.

We’ve had a steady clientele in the three decades I’ve worked at Sergio’s. Many people who used to come here have passed away or moved on, but we now have lots of Venezuelans and people from other countries. It’s not just a Cuban clientele anymore.

I arrive at work at 5:30 a.m. and prepare the window to open by 6. By the time we open it, people are already there. In one day, 100 people might come to the window. I work five days, from Monday to Friday. Although I am retired, I still need to work and make money.

I’ve lived all of these years in Westchester. I love it. I walk here and everyone knows me. Everyone talks to me; everyone stops me. The people are very lovely.

There is a little 4-year-old girl who runs up and says, “Abuela! Mennn! Come!” to let me know where she is at the table. She’s the cutest.

Other people call me “Camaguey,” like “Camagueeeyyy!”

I am passionate about making cafecito. I studied chemical analytics in Cuba and worked in that for 11 years in a Cuban candy factory.

I have loved preparing café con leche since I was 9 years old. My grandmother would get everything dangerous out of the way, and I would prepare the mix.

I love when people tell me, “The café con leche came out delicious. It’s divine.”

The flavor of the perfect cafecito is a mix of bitter and sweet. You can feel that it’s café. In my mind, Pilón is the best.

I make the coffee by shooting the water from the machine through the espresso, and I add sugar and milk. The coffee machine gives it natural foam. You put the sugar in after that. This is what my grandmother taught me and I haven’t varied it, unless someone asks me for more or less or no sugar.

There are also people who want it darker or lighter, and there’s a saying here that whatever you want for your café, we’ll make it.

The secret is that I put love into what I do. I like working with people. There are times when the customers treat me as a confidante.

I like recommending remedies to people, like a tea with natural ingredients. I’m a psychologist. I’m a psychiatrist. I’m a doctor. I’m everything.

I give the public a service that comes from my heart.

If someone enters the restaurant and they don’t say hello to me, they haven’t actually entered. If I don’t know them, I know that they don’t come here much.

But if I know them, they’ll say, “Hello, Iris! How’s your family, Iris?” and I’ll have their meal ready. I’ve prepared the orders for regulars because they stay the same, and if they ask for something different, I change it. They say “lo mismo, the same please,” or “hay cambio, something different.”

It’s a family thing, too. There are the families whose children have moved away from Florida. They bring me photos, tell me they love me and that their children are finally learning Spanish, that kind of thing.

The mother, the owner, has children who have all worked here. Now, Carlos is the owner, and he has two children. I knew him when he was 4 years old. So, for me, it’s always been family at Sergio’s.

The connection is with cafecito and Miami. It doesn’t matter the nationality of the person who drinks it. Some take it strong, some take it with milk, but everyone drinks it.

I believe that Sergio’s and the little serving windows unite everyone. You come and there’s a person you haven’t seen in a year. There have been a lot of encounters, many “Oye, fulana, do you remember me?”

In the window, you see everything.

This story was transcribed from an interview in 2016 between Iris Diaz, a ventanita server at Sergio’s Restaurant, and HistoryMiami Museum as part of a research project exploring the question “What Makes Miami, Miami?” The Florida Folklife Program, a component of the Florida Department of State’s Division of Historical Resources, directed the project.

This story was originally published February 21, 2020 at 4:51 PM.