Bermuda is pretty pink beaches, dazzling turquoise water, lush vegetation, touches of British style, pastel painted homes and truly friendly people. It’s posh yet casual and while not a bona fide culinary destination, it offers some delicious things to eat and drink that you won’t find elsewhere.
Here are my top picks:
FISH CHOWDER
This scrumptious soup, considered the national dish, was originally poor people’s food, made from fish bones. It’s a rich broth, with vegetables including onions, tomatoes, celery, carrots and a variety of spices and herbs. It's a little bit like Manhattan style chowder but with bits of fish instead of clams, but what makes it most special is the black rum and sherry pepper sauce that’s added to it, often at the table.
Where to find it: I loved it everywhere I had it, and it’s on just about every menu, but I’m told, the best version is sold at the Rubis gas station near the airport (get your taxi driver to take you!). I tried it at Bonefish, Henry VII and Wahoo’s Bistro.
Last week I went on a cruise with my family. One night, before dinner I ordered a "Maker's and soda" from the Indonesian bartender.
I did it for you, dear reader. I did it all for you. I did something
I vowed I would never do. Not in a million years. But there I was in
Verona. City of Romeo and Juliet. City of beauty. And after seeing so
many beautiful things, one does get a bit peckish. And all the
guidebooks recommended the same thing: horse. It’s a specialty of the
area. So when Jim and I found ourselves at the local restaurant
perusing the menu, there it was, staring us in the face: smoked horse
with arugala salad. There was also pasta with a donkey ragú on the menu
like it was the most normal thing in the world to eat these equines. “
I guess we had better try it,” said Jim. “Really?” “Yeah. How bad can
it be?” He said nonchalantly. I could sense a challenge. “OK, go ahead
order it.” “Ok, I will,” he countered, adding, “and we’ll share it.” I
took a large gulp of my prosecco and waited anxiously for the dish to
arrive.
Cecilia was a ‘10’ on a scale of one to two. She had unmitigated primal passion. Her sexual appetite was unparalleled and horizontal. It was vertical and diagonal. When I suggested to Cecilia that we spend the Fourth of July in Hawaii, she responded by giving me a fireworks show in the bedroom that went on till daybreak.
Jill was done. For three weeks I'd been force feeding her on a take-no-prisoners march through the restaurants of Italy. I had all but nailed her feet to the floor. And then four days in Rome – dio mio, Roma! If you don’t eat well in Rome, you’re an idiot. 