Monday, May 19, 2008

Islet View Restaurant; Castle Bruce, Dominica

- or -

"There Are Lizards in Paradise's Restaurant"

The streets here are harrowingly steep and unnervingly narrow. Steep at a level that's hard to imagine. So steep that you can reach your hand out (and UP) the passenger window on the left (they drive British here) and touch the road surface you're switch-backing for.

My person-who-insists-he-she-it-should-never-be-mentioned-in-my-writing and I had just dropped off our hitchhiker and were trying to find the Islet View Restaurant. I'd made a mistake, and instead of following the main route, had ended up climbing a 25% grade road. But hey, in a $35/day direct-Japanese import Suzuki Escudo, set to 4-wheel high, there's no way we're backing down.

We reconnect with the main road and BANG there's the Islet View.

The semi-Carib manager is happy to see us (at 11:00, we're the first customers of the day) and we're invited to sit anywhere we like on the balcony picnic tables. Tarps hold back the rain supported by bamboo bigger 'round than your thigh. We take the prime spot and, as is the case almost everywhere here, the menu is read aloud to us:

"Chicken or fish?"

"We'll have one of each. Oh, and what's the fish?"

"Buss."

This place, in particular, is well known for insane rum punches but my associate has already nixed any alcohol. Instead I'll have to get drunk from the view.

And the view is, spectacular. Bananas are being grown below us, further down are those classic red and white houses that you tend to see in the Carribbean.

Lizards play on the balcony railing.

Nothing happens quickly in Dominica, and you definitely don't want it to. After the requisite amount of time, the food comes -- it is absolutely classic Dominican fare. And huge amounts of it.

I have buss that's been deep fried the same way you'd do a chicken. Fresh bananas, dasheen, rice, beans, cole slaw, tomatoes, thinly shredded papaya and raw bread fruit. Washing it all down with fresh lime juice.

After getting used to the breading, the fish is quite good. It's also a switch from the normal fare on the island. Mahi mahi what's typically served this time of year. (It is still called by its proper name here, dolphin fish, which thrills me because the politically correct, yet hermetically stupid, think they're eating a mammal.)

The bananas are fresh and smooth. Both the dasheen and bread fruit seem very thick and starchy -- I've never acquired a taste for either (and find it unbelievebaly difficult to believe that there'd be a mutiny over breadfruit). The rice and beans are good and solid.

I don't like tomatoes, so I just flat-out pass on those.

The star of the plate is the papaya. Very brightly flavored. A perfect cross of sweet and sour.

The winner at the table, though, is my associate's chicken. It's been mildly smoked and/or sauted. You can see the flesh darker toward the outside than it is toward the bone. It's moist and full of the most complete chicken flavor you can imagine. You know how canned tuna hints at what tuna sashimi tastes like? That's the way this chicken compares to all other chicken.

All the while crazy, and very old, American country music is blaring from the back. Think "Sons of the Pioneers" and you're on the right track.

Like every single glass of juice I've had in this country (and I've had about two dozen), my lime juice is great. My only complaint is it could stand to be just a hint more sour.

We didn't order dessert, but that doesn't stop them from bringing sliced pineapple and mangoes. They've also included a slice of spice bread with guava punch drizzled over the top.

The mango is slap-you-in-the-face fresh. The pineapple very well may be some of the best I've ever had: it has mild overtones of both cocoanut and cinnamon, with the very very very last taste (maybe 90 seconds later) being a hint of bitter.

The cake is sweet, the guava punch sweet-sour and interesting without being boozey.


And for the first time in dominica, we're actually brought a bill on a platter (in this case, a hollowed-out gourd).

The total for two? US$22.

You've just gotta love it. You gotta.

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