musings.schelley.org

I spent last week in Baltimore, DC and Denver. Before getting to the topic at hand, a few notes:

--If you ever go tubing, avoid families by showing up after 1:00, spring for the floating cooler, and plan on stopping somewhere along the river bank for something from that floating cooler. Despite taking not having taken my words of wisdom, tubing down the Shenandoah was pretty cool, both from a "hey, I'm tubing" and temperature sense. Plus, the historical nature of the Shenandoah, including historic battlefields, was somewhat inspiring. And then, a very nice picnic after with Tony's excellent potato casserole, my new favorite grape/feta/mint picnic salad and a few other treats.
--Baltimore is a shell of a city. It feels depressed. Beautiful row houses are boarded up and disintegrating. Crime is rampant. With the exception of a few blocks, the city is dead at night. A few people are trying...and the rest aren't. As you'd expect, the food scene is pretty sad. I did have good Afghani food (thank you Tony) and very nice brunch at Jillian's (at the free to the public at all times Baltimore City Art Museum, thank you Julie). I really do thank the visionaries of Seattle and San Francisco (plus the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake) for ensuring that I'm able to live in such vibrant, lovely cities.
--If you're going to Baltimore, don't fly into Reagen International. It turns out that despite being in a colony where it's easy to knock through 5 states in a day, Reagen isn't that close to anything, except the capitol.
--Morton's in Bethesda is overpriced and not worth it. I'm also trying not to be bitter that the bartender didn't tell me about the burger special (Sunday nights only, delicious looking hamburger with sides and fries, all proceeds for some children's fundraiser, the plates coming out of the kitchen looked far better than my crab cake and chopped salad).
--I've gone on two business trips with Char. Both times, I've ended up sick. We now share an office. I think I need to start watching my back.

Now, to the real point of this blog. Denver. Or more specifically, the $0.75 tamale.

With the exception of the airport, I've never spent any time in Denver. Tracy has always sung its praises, and I've heard many good things about Colorado in general. After spending a few days in Denver, I have to agree, it's pretty damn cool.

Twenty years ago, someone had a dream. The downtown area is revitalized, seamlessly blending commercial stores and restaurants with Old Frontier construction, especially once you get past the commercial strip; the frontier buildings reminded me of downtown Napa and Yreka, both also frontier towns. The Denver Arts area intermingles effortlessly with the Capitol building (did you know before reading this entry that Denver is the capitol of Colorado?), the Colorado river and the convention center (where the Democrats are heading). And amazingly, unlike other areas, such as LA and Seattle, the convention center doesn't look like it was dropped into the middle of the city, but rather, thoughtfully integrated within what already existed.

Tracy briefly mentioned that Denver has good Mexican food, which immediately set my foodie instincts aflutter. While walking to Tamayo, a very tasty and slightly upscale Mexican restaurant for lunch (so good, we ate there twice), we passed a few carts selling a selection of burritos and tamales. Street food, in my opinion, can only be good...and the next day, we were stopped. If it were bad, we reasoned, we would have only spent $1.50. If it was good, that would be $1.50 of deliciousness.

Luckily for us, the red chile pork tamale was in that second category.

The masa was the perfect blend of not too dry, but moist enough to stay together. The pork was braised, slightly spicy in the red pepper sauce. I fell in love on the spot, practically choking back tears as I ate. Pure perfection, wrapped in a corn husk. The tamale was worth more than $0.75, in my mind.

"I'm going to buy some to take home," I told Char, and promptly marched up to the seller. A conversation later, he promised me that I'd have two dozen to take home the next day, a dozen of the green chile and cheese, a dozen of the red chile and pork. He claimed the chile and cheese were "very good", and who was I to doubt the man that had brought me red chile pork tamales? Char and I decided to split the cache.

See that picture below? Look closely. That's my suitcase, holding a dozen delicious green chile and cheese tamales. I have always kept a few gallon size ziploc bags in my suitcase for emergencies, of what sort, I didn't know until now. Tamale emergencies.

Tonight, I made a grilled tomato salsa and guacamole, heated up a few tamales, and feasted. The dish, prefeast, in the picture below. Tomorrow night, I'm looking forward to the pork tamales. Good Mexican food...so hard to find here, so delicious (and cheap) elsewhere.

By the way, we had to stay in the Denver Ritz Carlton. Powers outside of my control upgraded me to a suite, which was only slightly smaller than my condo. I gave the five-minute tour of my suite: sitting room, bedroom (most comfy hotel bed ever), dressing room and giant bathroom. Two HD TVs meant some serious Olympic viewing time, reminding me that it's time to upgrade from the analog and rabbit ears to HD for football season. Oh, and Elway's oatmeal brulee, delicious. Think creme brulee, but with creamy oatmeal enclosed in the warm sugar crust.

Posted by Schelley Olhava at 07:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I’ve just wrapped up a business trip to the UK, where I tacked a few extra days on the front end to visit Nilay and then a weekend at the back end with Tracy, before heading off on the second part of the trip, to Sweden and Denmark. It’s been a hard trip, but one also marked by some excellent meals and quality pub and bar time.

Nilay, a fellow foodie, drug me to Borough Market (located at the London Bridge tube stop) promising that it was a spectacular famer’s market. Nilay was right. I loved it, and convinced Tracy to come with a week later. It is not dissimilar to the San Francisco Ferry Building Farmer’s market, only bigger and more crowded.

Both times, I gazed at the vegetables and fruit and meat and fish on display, pondering cooking adventures. Ostrich steaks, with roasted new potatoes, asparagus and beets. Fish with a side of fresh rocket mixed with strawberries or apples and blue cheese and nuts. Freshly slaughtered rabbit, cooked with thyme and served with carrots and peas and buttermilk and herbed mashed potatoes, tied together with some type of red wine reduction. Or a picnic, with hand made salamis (rivaling Seattle’s Salumi), any number of cheeses, walnut bread and brownie for dessert. I couldn’t help but notice shopping lists in many hands.

I ate well during both visits to Borough, sampling from many stalls, bits of cheese and meats and other assorted things, and buying a few other things. Monmouth Coffee, which makes coffee a la Blue Bottle in San Francisco, hand dripped, using high quality beans. Freshly squeezed juices. Ostrich burgers. Seared scallops, nestled on a bed of ground bacon, bean sprouts and thinly sliced carrots. Wraps, with tsatziki sauce and couscous and a mound of sautéed veggies. And sausages, of every variety, all accompanied by salad and chutney and mustard and onions on freshly baked crusty bread.

Produce at the market:

Delicious rabbits:

Freshly squeezed juice:

Other culinary points to note about London…Indian food at a still being remodeled Clapham restaurant, which marked the beginning of my “I have to order saag [spinch] with every single Indian meal” trend. High-brow Indian food at Red Fort in SoHo (if you go to Red Fort, get the duck. Trust me). English roast – lamb, cheesey cauliflower, broccoli, carrots, potatoes and Yorkshire pudding united by tasty brown gravy. Mussels at Belgo Centraal. Vegetarian Indian (again with tasty saag). Giovanni’s, an excellent Italian hole in the wall, with a personality filled owner and impressive food to match the owner’s personality. It’s important to note that while Giovanni’s is in Covent Garden, it’s not easy to find, tucked down an alley.

I have three things to write about my trip outside of London, to Coventry and Leamington Spa. First, if you ever find yourself in the general area of Leamington Spa, eat at Wilde’s. I wanted to return a second night, only Tracy wouldn’t let me. We started with squid and chorizo sautéed with shallots and scallions, then mixed with rocket, and an amazing bruschetta covered in some type of rich tomato sauce and roasted eggplant and broiled with a generous slice of goat cheese. I demolished a duck breast, perfectly rare with a crispy skin, laid atop a demi-glace. For dessert, I had Wilde’s Eton Mess, a true mess of strawberries and berries and pieces of meringue, folded with whipped heavy cream.

Wilde's Duck:

Wilde's lovely Eton Mess:

Second, I visited a company that had the best quality machine coffee that I have ever tasted. I could choose from black coffee, white coffee, black tea and white tea. It absolutely made the iCup taste like swill.

And third, the London train system is a bit shaky, even when you take the privately run Virgin train. After boarding the London Euston bound train in Coventry, we were dumped off at Rugby Station a few minutes later because of a signal problem. We went back to Coventry on a standing room only train, and over the next hour, heard much conflicting information about schedules – regardless, it wouldn’t be a straight shot to London. We passed on the first train – there was no room for three people, luggage and any sort of fresh oxygen. We tried to board the second train, to Leamington Spa (from where we’d transfer trains to go to London) only to be unable to get on. The cars were full, except for the one we were trying to board, which was empty in the middle because a cranky old man was standing and refused to move down to allow other passengers on board. People, including myself, were shouting at him to move down. In desperation, I banged on the window, and others followed. Eventually, we started to curse the man, who refused to budge. At the end, I pulled out Shakespeare: “May there be a curse upon your house!”

A few minutes after the banging on train windows debacle, we tried to get our money back to take a very expensive cab ride back to London, and discovered that the signal had been fixed. So after all, we did take the train back to Euston Station. We did even better when we were quietly told that one of the first class cars had been decommissioned for all passengers…from that point on, our weekend in London was absolutely lovely, with a stay at the Hotel 41 and of course, cheer and eating.

About the cheer – much to write about, for another blog entry.

And one last thing to mention…thanks to a generous employer, I flew SAS business class to Europe. SAS business class rules, for so many, many reasons, which range from the obvious to easily overlooked. By comparison, United business class is, well, kind of junky. Oh U.S. airlines…why must you fail so spectacularly?

Pictures to be posted later.

Correction: I received a comment that the entire British railway system is privatized, and since becoming privatized, has turned to "rot". A Maggie Thatcher legacy...and duly corrected in the entry.

Posted by Schelley Olhava at 08:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Business travel is both a blessing and a curse. Blessing: the chance to visit new places, catch up with friends and family, possibly new adventures. Curse: the monotony of solo travel, or worse, travel with annoying people, managing home logistics while on the road (online bill pay, yeah, getting others to collect my mail, not so yeah), and the worst of all fates, struck by illness while on a business trip.

Since mid-February, work travel has ramped up and will likely remain at a steady pace through July – and the blessings and curses have reared their fabulous and ugly heads.

In February, I spent a week in Tampa, Florida. Not exactly a tourist/culinary destination, although I did get a chance to visit Lakeland, square in the middle of the state between the Gulf Coast and the Atlantic. I am still kicking myself for not trying the local café’s Coca Cola cake (I did find a recipe, hooray!). Tracy and I spent a weekend on Treasure Island at the Gambino family funded Thunderbird Resort, an island and resort stuck firmly in 1952. Absolutely fabulous, in so many ways. Rooms faced a large pool, bordered by a tiki bar and a vast expanse of beach, littered by more 1950s era resorts, hotels and cottages.

Life at the Thunderbird centered around the pool and beach; the spectacular sunset punctuated happy hour each day (I couldn't help but draw a comparison between the sunset at Salvador, where the horizon engulfed the sun, rather than the sun slipping below the horizon). And speaking of happy hour, Tracy and I discovered that Corona is actually available in cans and as the "young Seattle girls", politely accepted drinks from men old enough to be our fathers. As one would expect in the Florida area, the older set was fairly prominent.

A few weeks later, I booked a long business trip, extending it to spend Easter weekend in Boston and the following weekend in San Francisco, before heading off to Phoenix, where amazingly enough, I would have a chance to see Drew and Suzette.

Luckily, the culinary highlights in Boston were much better than in Florida. Alex, my 3 ½ year old nephew, is enchanted by all things baking. We made chocolate chip cookies (sans mixer), and later, raspberry chiffon pie for Easter Dessert. For the crust, I used Cook’s Illustrated’s new recipe (with vodka!), which was not as perfect as I'd hoped. Not cooked enough, it also shrunk a bit too much. Any number of factors probably contributed, including using all butter rather than half butter/half Crisco, an Alex meltdown (a nice reminder of how unfit I am in the parental arena), and baking the pie improperly weighted. Check out the picture - those are nails. It turns out that my brother, the non-baker, assumed that when I asked if he had beans for the pie crust, didn't understand that I meant dried, not canned beans. I'm not sure how fool-proof the recipe is, as Carrie had mixed results. In the end though, the pie was delicious. As a side note, if I make the pie again, I'll cut down on the sugar. I also substituted fresh blackberries for the fresh raspberries, and am thinking that any kind of fresh berry will work well. Hello strawberries!

Easter dinner was really amazing. Ed baked a tasty leg of lamb, studded with garlic and rosemary, and then covered with a mustard bread crumb mixture. The meat was cooked perfectly, a crispy skin surrounding deliciously pink meat. For sides, new potatoes with mint, and an asparagus lemon casserole. We eventually liked the casserole, but also came to the conclusion that some foods, such as asparagus, are better in a simple state. I should also point out, this year, the oven did not catch on fire.

I also hit Sauncie for dinner, a once upon a time favorite on Newberry Street. Dinner with the company of Amy was fabulous, but the quality of the food was not at such the high standard. Our main course, butternut squash ravioli with prosciutto, was decent, but just that. I thought that the prosciutto would have been mixed with the butternut squash, but rather, the ravioli was placed over two slices of prosciutto. A bundle of unseasoned spinach in the middle of the dish was distracting. This is my second so-so meal at Sauncie in two years, making me think that I won’t be going back. On a positive note, I did have one of the best French 75's I've ever drank at the Lennox Hotel bar after. Tasty!

All fell apart when I woke up in Boston with what I thought was just a sore throat, which got worse after 6 hours on a plane. By day two in San Francisco, my sore throat had morphed into the flu. I tried to cure my flu by treating life as normal, including somewhat normal food, in San Francisco and continuing to work. Take out Won Ton pho at the slanted door, lasagna from Café Delle Stelle delivered to the focus group facility. I decided that cupcakes could provide some type of restorative powers as well, so picked up a few to share from Miette. In my world of cupcake reviews, Miette ranks high on the list. The chocolate cake was full of structure and bite and incredibly moist. And the frosting, was well, frostinglicious. Not a typical buttercream, but an egg white frosting, so lighter and fluffier and not quite as cloying. Sadly, the restorative powers didn’t work.

I finally threw in the towel and skipped out on the weekend in Bay Area and seeing Drew and Suzette in Phoenix, which makes me sad, for so many reasons. Being sick is horrible…but being sick in a hotel room and not that close to home and having to fly to get home is really the worst of all worlds.

Sigh…There you have it, the blessings and curses of business travel.

Posted by Schelley Olhava at 04:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Plans to write more about Brazil soon after I got back from vacation fell apart. A case of blogger’s block, perhaps, other excuses such as work and painting and too many late nights.

The truth about Brazil is that I captured most of the food highlights in my first rushed entry. We trekked once again to Pariso Tropicale, for another amazing meal involving fish and seafood mocqueca and a spectacularly grilled octopus and fish, surrounded by a dozen different grilled fruits. We hired a cook for New Years Eve, who made us delicious fejoada, black bean and pork stew. We ate well on the island of Fernando de Noronha, but the meals were simply good, and nothing really stood out from a food perspective.

Really, it’s the people and adventures along the way that I’ll remember about the rest of my Brazil vacation.

On our last day in Salvador, while climbing into a cab to head to Pariso, I stumbled and sprained my foot. Later, John taught me that the “C” in RICE stands for “compression” and kindly, and gently, wrapped my foot. Spending the next day traveling (from Salvador to Fernando, two one hour plane flights with eight hours of wait time in between) with a sprained foot was, well, unpleasant. I tried my best to keep up with everyone, but it was hard. I’d limp behind the group, falling further and further behind. Eventually, one of the guys would turn around, see me bravely trying to keep up, heads would confer, and then one would peel back and walk with me. I have to admit, the extra special attention was nice, especially the offers of luggage carrying help. And, thanks to some miraculous pills from Kirby, the Recife airport, already modern and clean and lovely, was extremely pleasant.

I really liked Fernando de Noronha; my favorite moments involved the ocean. We saw giant pods of dolphins, swimming and frolicking in the water. I admired the giant rock, visible from almost all parts of the island, as its appearance changed, depending on position and light. In one instance, it was a giant mermaid, praying. Another, it resembled King Kong, gazing into the distance. And another moment, a giant pile of rocks. I snorkeled around a reef, at first finding nothing, then seeing bright colors emerge. Snorkeling was even better another day, when we swam with the sea turtles; while we battled the choppy currents, the turtles paddled around, adjusting their swim to the currents, periodically popping their heads above water for air, and perhaps to see the sights. Or the rock. And then there was the beach and pool time; beautiful beaches that stretched on forever and ever, with very few people (completely the opposite from the social experience of the Salvador beach crowds).

I’ve never rented a bike while on vacation, and after Fernando, may never again. The bike rental market is limited and it appears that no one on the island has the skills necessary to tune up bikes. We ended up renting three somewhat questionable bikes and after John insisted that we had been promised a fourth bike, one that had recently been ready for landfill. Despite the fact that the brakes on our bikes didn’t quite work, and the gears didn’t stick and everything else was held together with bubble gum (the word “janky” applied), we didn’t kill ourselves and had fun and lots of laughs (laughing while trying to bike up a steep hill is well, hard). Our biking goal was to get some exercise and find a beach. We didn’t find the exact beach we were looking for, but found one that was amazing and beautiful.

Really, that’s all that counts in the end.

Posted by Schelley Olhava at 06:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Brazil is wonderful. Warm, slightly humid weather. Amazing food. Excellent drinks. Picturesque, in that beautiful scenery sense that is only possible on a beach.

The trip started a bit bumpy - I arrived, despite a cancelled flight, my luggage did not. Note to all traveling in the third-world: unless you go to the airport to collect your bag, no one cares whether your bag has been delivered. Alas, all is well, United will be paying for a few new sexy dresses and most importantly, my bathing suit, clean underwear and the tequila and triple sec arrived intact.

A few highlights thus far:

Moqueca: A traditional Bahian dish, with a base of coconut milk, a few veggies and fish and seafood, cooked with dende oil, the African/Bahian equivalent of our olive oil, but from palm, not olives. The dish is served with rice, a pasty, slightly starchy side and manioc, a flour that serves to bind the flavors together. Much like ceviche a year ago in Panama, I've made it my mission to taste moqueca at various locales throughout my stay.

Aracaje: The ultimate street food, aracaje is fritter fried in dende oil, slice open, stuffed with hot sauce, a few sides (including that same starchy side served with moqueca) and baby briney shrimp, and then eaten like a sandwich. Sooo tasty and good.

Meat. The churasco is impressive and abundant. Boi Preto is the best in Salvador. The huge salad bar, which is a salad bar in name only, features everything from sushi to cooked dishes to cheese to almost anything else. Several waiters are constantly in circulation, each ready to carve a different cut of beef, chicken, pork or fish for you instantly. The meat is amazing; the very nature of grass fed and no hormones means that the meat tastes as it should really taste, rich and succulent and delicious.

Capirinhas: I've been drinking this sugar cane alcohol, cacacia, at almost every opportunity. In its pure form, it's undrinkable. Mixed with fresh limes and sugar into a capirinha, it is amazing, refreshing, tangy and a bit potent. Bruno, my favorite beach bartender/caretaker, makes the best in the city.

More as the trip goes on.

Posted by Schelley Olhava at 02:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I took one of those seemingly forever trips, bookmarking a business trip with a few days of fun on both ends. I started in New York (site of Gabe’s tube themed dinner), then to Boston, Chicago, Champaign-Urbana, back to Chicago, back to Boston and finally, home. The trip worked out well, for so many reasons. I was able to stay with Gabe and Jason (plus CC!), Asra was in New York at the same time (although for an unexpected extra day, thanks to the Nor’Easter), I business traveled with a co-worker (the company was excllent) and spent a few days with my two nephews, happily bonding with the newest one.

So, highlights include:

--Billy’s. Gabe steered me away from the venerable Magnolia Cupcakes to Billy’s, the place “where all the locals and a few stars go�?. Have I mentioned that when it comes to food, Gabe is almost never wrong? Thus, Billy’s was an excellent choice, one enjoyed with Asra between shopping. A tiny little bakery, smelling of fresh baked goodness, with several different kinds of cupcakes, cakes and pies. I opted for my standby vanilla cake and frosting – both were good, although I think the structure of the cake is slightly better (as in moister and with a bit more air) at Trophy Cupcakes. Regardless, Billy’s was still excellent and worthwhile. I also brought home a slice of coconut cake (almost as good as what I made for Tony’s birthday a few years ago) and banana cake (which I didn’t touch but went over very well with Gabe, Jason and Chris). While I didn’t see any celebrities and their accompanying handlers, my heart did skip a few beats when two guys delivered six brand new Kitchen Aid mixers.

--Cuban Food. Gabe and Jason found a hole in the wall Cuban place somewhere in Chelsea. Delicious and cheap. Pan fried cubes of pork with rings of sautéed onions, shredded beef in some type of nourishing sace, sweet plantains, and white rice and black beans. So amazingly good. Gabe and I ate too much, then took a long walk after. The Cuban place reminded me of my favorite taquerias in Mountain View and Indian places in London - kind of sketchy on the outside, super clean with amazing food and friendly people on the inside.

--Bouchon. Gabe and Jason live within sight of Columbus Circle, which houses a few establlishments capable of bringing me to my knees, including Thomas Keller’s Per Se and Bouchon. We had an excellent lunch at Bouchon’s take-out café, tuna nicoise sandwiches and ham and cheddar quiche, and I also picked up freshly baked croissants and other pastries on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, after running in Central Park. The next time I’m in New York, I will plan my restaurant schedule to include meals at either Per Se or the sit down Bouchon, or both.

--Luna Café. Compared to the college towns that I’m used to (Berkeley, in particular, and a small private school in Palo Alto and of course, UW), Champaign-Urbana, home of the University of Illinois, is muted and quiet. Campus social life seems to rest within a large Greek system and on a small few blocks of restaurants and shops. Luckily, we found an amazing place in the three block span of fast food and chain restaurants: Luna Café. It was so delicious, after lunch, we returned for dinner (and overcame the puzzled looks on the waiter's face who recognized us. I wanted to scream, do you know what a food wasteland Champaign is? but of course, didn't because I was hungry and knew the food and wine list were both superior to anything else in the area). At lunch, we split the cheese platter, drowned goat, aged Wisconsin cheddar, a runny and smelly white cheese. I moved on to a bowl of sweet potato soup, decorated with truffle oil, and then to a seared tuna nicoise salad. Luna focused on tapas for dinner; we shared warmed brie, fried artichokes and beets and duck confit ravioli (a house specialty, and really, my favorite), among a few others succulent dishes.

--Running. Ok, while not related to food, I have to point out that both Saturdays of the trip were sunny and warm, a lucky strike considering that the weather was generally uninspiring and rainy (even experiencing what they call a “nor’easter�? on Sunday in New York). I was also lucky to be near great running pastures, Central Park in New York and the Charles River in Boston, and took advantage of both.

--Friday Night at the Olhava’s. My brother encouraged me to arrive in Boston in time for dinner, saying “Alex insists on Friday night dinner�?. I’m not sure what that meant, considering Alex is 2 ½, an age which I know almost nothing about. But knowing that my brother is an excellent cook, I made sure that I got from Chicago to Boston in time for dinner. Unfortunately, Alex is going through what many refer to as “the terrible twos�?, so I ended up eating dinner by myself. But I have to say, dinner by myself was excellent – grilled lamb chops, baby potatoes with mint and steamed asparagus, and I was the only one in the household to enjoy a warm dinner. Sunday, before I left, I made Ed a chocolate cake for his birthday. He's not a baker, I am, and I realized, it had been a while since I'd baked.

And just as an FYI, even though it was very fun to hang out with Alex and the 3-month old Pete, who is absolutely adorable in his 3-month oldedness and seems to like me, I couldn’t help reflecting on how different the two weekends were: partying a lot in New York, followed by staying home with two little people. The wonderfullness of life.

The Cuban Food...mmm...

Billy's Cupcakes. Obviously, the little cakes were slightly eaten by the time I took a picture.

The very excellent seared tuna nicoise salad at Luna Cafe.

Posted by Schelley Olhava at 09:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

For many, many reasons, I was long overdue for a vacation, and happily got on the plane before Christmas to join up with the travel group for two weeks of glorious holiday in Panama (the country, not the city in Florida, Pete). A little over a week in Panama City, including a few excursions to nearby islands and beaches, then four days in Bocas del Toro, a group of islands on the Carribean side of the country.

Panama, in one word, was FABULOUS. It was warm, sauna warm, a much appreciated break from the Seattle cold. The food, especially anything from the sea, was wonderful and delicious and fresh. The beer was ice cold. The beaches were beautiful and the water was warm. The jungle was lush, tropical, full of weird bugs and creatures that I had only seen in National Geographic. And the people in our group were fun, so very fun to travel with. It seems that the country's political winds are calm, and Panama is rapidly becoming a destination for expats of all sorts, looking for opportunity, buying a condo or a resort or an island.

Assorted highlights of the trip are below. I've inserted a few pics (in addition to those posted on the previous entry) and once Marc and Chris get all of the pictures organized, I'll post a link.

Ceviche. Fresh raw fish and seafood, mainly corvina, octopus (pulpo), shrimp (camarones) and calamari marinated in lime juice and depending on the chef's mood, maybe mixed with chopped red onion and celery. The end product was tangy and citrusy, which suited the fresh taste of the fish. One of my favorite meals was a ceviche taste-off at the Mercado del Marisco, comparing Panamaniam ceviche (cooked for a few days, so very tangy) to Peruvian ceviche (barely cooked for about twenty minutes and tasting only faintly of citrus). Both were delicious and impossible to choose a favorite. I probably ate ceviche every day in Panama City; sadly, Bocas suffered from a shortage of limes and ceviche was not to be found.

Corvina a la Plancha al Ajilla. A slightly flakey, mild white fish excellent cooked almost any way. It's similar to sea bass, but as that fish is nearly extinct, corvina is the replacement, known as the "next sea bass". I loved the fish grilled and covered in garlic sauce. The sauce was different at each restaurant; my absolute favorite was at Prado in Panama City, the fish grilled to perfection and covered with a chunky garlic and tomato sauce.

Trapped on a Tropical Island. Gabe, Jason and I flew to Contadora on Christmas Day, a small island on the Pacific side. A tiny, tiny prop plane managed to land us in one piece on the runway, which extended the length of the island, literally dropping off into the sea. It was a spectacular landing - an island rising out of the sea, covered in beaches and jungle, with a narrow strip of runway. We practically had the beaches to ourselves. Lunch was wonderful (if limited) at the Romantico Restaurant. Suddenly, late afternoon, clouds gathered and we experienced a near monsoon - the heavens opened up and poured giant buckets of rain onto us. Gabe and I were forced to take shelter indoors, and then had to move a few times as the flooding water approached; Jason had gone off for a run and took shelter on the opposite end of the runway. The drenching ended after about an hour, long enough to ensure that our plane wouldn't be taking off that night back to Panama (not because of the weather, but because the flight was delayed past the time the one-man Contadora flight controller would stay at work). Thus, an overnight in Contadora, where we stayed at the lovely Hotel Punta Galeon. Sadly, we did not pack as wisely as Ginger and Mrs. Howell; although for reasons that I still can't explain, I'd thrown an extra t-shirt, underwear and set of contacts in my bag. It was an adventure, and gave us a chance to return to the Romantico for Christmas dinner, where we were greeted by the German owner and our lunch waiter as long lost friends. And yes, I had ceviche with dinner.

Restaurante Mercado del Marisco. This was my favorite place in Panama City - I ate here at least three or four times. Fresh, fresh fish, which seemed appropriate as it was located above an open air seafood market. In addition to amazing ceviche, I had one of the most flavorful and complex fish soups I have ever tasted. The broth was delicious - I suspect made from a base of fish bones and parts and whatever else creates broth, with huge chuncks of fish, shrimp and octopus, as well as a few other wonderful flavors (coconut milk, perhaps). The restaurant also served many other dishes, including stews and risottos and other stuff. And their signature, a whole fried fish - perfection.

The Panama Canal. The canal is an impressive feat of engineering. Awe inspiring, amazing and interesting. I'm not sure what else to write...

Buccaneer Restaurant. The Buccaneer was attached to our very fun and rustic hotel in Bocas, on Isla Carenero. I should point out - Bocas is really a group of islands, and the only way to get around is by boat. Fun by day, slightly eerie and beautiful in the early inky black of night, downright scary late in the pitch black of late night while traveling in a motor-powered canoe. But about the restaurant. We ate dinner at the Buccanner three times; I had the same dish each time: pulpo (or octopus). Huge chunks of octopus sauteed in a wine sauce, tender and delicious. It was also served with patacones, fried plantains. I sampled patacones all over Panama, and decided that the Buccaneer has the best.

Dolphins & Poisonous Frogs. After spending three days in scuba certification class, ChrisB wanted to see something besides a classroom and insisted that we join him on an afternoon boat excursion. I suspect he may have been disgusted that those of us not scubaing had spent those three days eating, drinking, reading, hanging out and gazing at the waves hitting the break from the Royal Suite, and decided that we needed to do something, rather than nothing, in Bocas. So we got into a boat for an adventure. After traveling through water bordered by jungle and mangrove forests (amazing beasts, really), we arrived at Dolphin Bay. As one would suspect, Dolphin Bay was full of dolphins - glorious, beautiful creatures playing in the water. We all gasped upon seeing the first one, simply remarkable. After admiring the dolphins (and making appropriate admiration noises and trying to snap pictures), we went to Red Frog Beach. First, to get to the beach, we hiked through jungle, along a clay path. Probably because the jungle is also called a "rainforest", the clay path was wet, sucking away shoes and coating everything, sort of disgusting. I managed to cut my hand on some bamboo, but eventually made it to one of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen. We frolicked in the water, admired the handsome Brazilians and yes, Chris found a few of the tiny, brightly colored and highly poisonous red frogs, plus a few other tropical bugs. From there, we went to a cove for some snorkeling, where I swam and paddled around in the warm water.

The Pickled Parrot. George, a salty American ex-pat, owns and runs the Pickled Parrot, just a short walk from the Buccaneer. It's not quite clear what he did in a previous life, "nuculear robotics", possibly a lot of pot and some pretty looking tabs, but he did make a mean margarita and an excellent pina colada (and that's coming from me, the person who doesn't really care for blended, fruity drinks). The food was also solid - the Thai Soup was my favorite, a coconut milk soup full of fish and seafood. We never knew what would come out of George's mouth; for example, "So the menu got a bit messed up and I need to fix it. I got laid up for a month after getting into a planecrash and they created the menu and just didn't do it right". A short pause before Gabe said, "Ummm, wait a second, can you back up. You were in a plane crash?"

Drinking in Panama. I'm a beer lover, and to me, with a few exceptions, nothing is better in a warm tropical climate than a cool beer. The Panama cerverza was my favorite - light, not much body, similar to a Corona. I made margaritas one night (Gabe insisted, we had tequila and "after all, they are a tradition"); they weren't that great due to a lack of triple sec and lemons (mental note: come prepared on all future trips). Johnny brought Pimms from the UK, which with the fresh fruit, was soo delicious. Although, whoever ate all of the pineapple out of the batch of Pimms I made, I still hate you.

Coconut Water. With a machete, it's fairly easy to get coconut water by hacking off the top of the coconut, or at least it looked easy watching the guys at Isla Taboga. Several days later, I watched Elizabeth at the Buccaneer bash a green coconut against a tree and drink the juice; she told me it was good for hangovers (I guess she recognized a fellow drinker when she imparted that knowledge). A few days later, perhaps while under the influence, Marc decided that he wanted coconut water, so found a rickety ladder, climbed a tree, gathered a couple of coconuts, and then spent the next half an hour bashing the hard coconut against the concrete. Eventually, he cracked it open, giving us delicious, tangy and very fresh coconut water. A machete, or probably picking a green coconut may have been easier. As I decided to document the experience with my camera (cause we all know I was hoping for a great "falling out of tree" pic), I know how much hard work he put into getting that cocnut water out, which made it taste even better.

Fluffy the wonderpup. It's a good thing that most cocker spaniels are not the brightest of dogs. But they are super cute to look at, which is all that counts in the end.

And finally, thank you Gabe for planning such a fabulous trip!

Posted by Schelley Olhava at 04:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)