GASTRONORMOUS

Here are some of my photos from our trip to the Mayan Riviera on the Yucatan Peninsula. If you ever have a chance to go, I highly recommend the area. As it is situated on the Caribbean Sea, it has the clear aqua waters and gorgeous sandy beaches that you associate with the Caribbean island nations, but the food and culture of Mexico. It is a really unique, culturally and ecologically rich area. We had such a wonderful time. These pictures illustrate just some of what the area has to offer: rocky lagoons; colonial-era towns; Mayan archaeological sites (the one pictured below is the largest site, Chichen Itza); and palm-tree dotted white sandy beaches. There are other wonders, natural and not: ceynotes, which are underground lagoons unique to this area; deep-sea fishing; great snorkeling and diving; and of course the lovely people. 

Eric Asimov writes about “an absolutely delicious” Merlot. I will repeat that. A delicious [sic!] Merlot! I wrote once about a Merlot I enjoyed, but I admit that it was precisely the wine’s non-Merlot-like qualities that made it enjoyable. This one from Long Island seems as if it is good on its own characteristic merits.

Shecky’s (of all places) has a great compilation of Holiday Cocktail Recipes from bartenders at popular bars and restaurants. I know the Cosmo is totally over, but I can’t help wanting to try the Gingerbread Cosmo. Maybe I’ll just call it a gingerbread martini when I have friends over for some holiday cheer.

I love this: Half-Assed Holiday Apps! (from the Half Assed Kitchen, of course).

I love butterscotch. I cannot be more serious about this. I would rather have butterscotch sauce than chocolate sauce on my ice cream. I think blondies are ruined by the addition of chocolate. I hands down prefer a butterscotch cookie to a classic chocolate chip. This is why I find the Accidental Hedonist‘s buttercotch cookie recipe so alluring. Of course, I will probably never make them as I don’t own a kitchen scale, and don’t bake enough to warrant ever buying one. Alas, these cookies will be relegated to my sweet dreams!

This brown-butter brown-sugar shortie recipe, on the other hand, might be the stuff of sweet reality. Serious bakers will frown at the use of measurements by volume rather than by weight, but for amateur bakers with a sweet tooth, this recipe looks great. Only five ingredients! And, well, close enough to butterscotch to make me happy. I guess. Sniff. Okay, I’d still rather have the real butterscotch ones. [via Smitten Kitchen, via Gourmet]

One day after breakfast in Mexico, we decided to take a 20 minute cab ride to the town of Playa del Carmen. We wanted to explore what was described to us as a “quaint fishing village” and maybe experience a bit of real Mexico. We quickly saw that quaint it ain’t. I am sure there are parts of town the cater to locals, and might even be called quaint, but the most of what we saw was the street 5th Avenue, which is a long strip of crappy souvenir and t-shirt shops, touristy restaurants, and jewelry stores with hucksters outside beckoning you in to interest you silver, and perhaps a time share. Mostly it was a disappointment, but we did find a nice little pottery shop on the fringes of strip, and I bought an awesome pair of Brazilian sandals (that aren’t available in the US—I know only because I have looked for them here!). Plus, of course, the jaunt allowed for this reportage on what culinary choices await you, should you ever find yourself in Play del Carmen, or Playa as many simply call the town.

A place named El Oasis was recommended to us for their legendary seafood tacos, but we couldn’t find it. We ended up eating at a touristy Mexican restaurant on 5th Ave., which was probably a mistake, but we just didn’t have the time to go exploring all over town on foot. My brother deemed the restaurant “forgettable,” and indeed, I don’t even remember the name. My dish featured canned mushrooms and canned cactus, among other things. I didn’t touch it; something about canned mushrooms—the texture, I think—trigger a gag reflex in me. Instead, I ate guacamole wrapped in fresh tortillas. Not bad, but not exactly a balanced meal. The fish tacos, left, were edible if not memorable, and featured grilled, instead of fried, fish, which was a good thing. Even if I remembered the name, I don’t think I would recommend it. It was the type of place that has mariachis, bright red and green chips stuck in their guac, and takes pictures of you wearing an enormous sombero (this one with the word “Mexico” hand-spray-painted on it) and then later tries to sell the photo-as-tequila-bottle-label to you. None of us were thrilled with the meal, but it was a nice little respite off of the hot street, and a chance to sit down and chat as a family over some beers and sodas.

We wandered a bit off of the main strip, down to the famous beach, and to the pier area, which was lined with tables offering shell jewelery, hair braiding, and fresh fruit (see top photo) and nuts. The Hubs and I also walked over to the bit less touristy 10th Avenue, where we saw some taco stands that had themes and signage I just fell in love with.

Here is the taco stand called Mr. Kiwi. As you can see (click on the photos to enlarge them), the mascot is a winsome beanie-topped kiwi dude sipping some jugos (Or is it tequila? That kiwi looks like he is pretty squeezed). As you can see, besides the obligatory tacos and tortas, this stand also offers hamurguesas. Por los gringos, naturalmente. Though the tortas are clearly what make this place stand apart: If you look closely at the word “tortas” in the signage, the pictorial torta that takes the place of the “o” has a scale underneath that measures “25 cm.” Of course, I guess that could have been instructions to the sign maker (“I want it to say “Tortas & Tacos,” but for the “o” in “tortas” paint a sammy with stink lines emanating from it, and make sure the drawing is exactly 25 centimeters!” Something like that. What? It could have happened. Or maybe I am reading too much cake wrecks). But assuming their actual tortas are 25cm in length, I wonder how big the 20 peso “super torta” is? Whoa. Mr. Kiwi is blowing my mind.

Copyright infringement alert! In the upper right hand corner of the wall of this taco, torta, and burrito stand called Tacochido you will inexplicably see the unmistakable countenance of Roberto’s Gran Chico (Bob’s Big Boy to you and I). I assume that is a torta he is holding on the left, and not BBB’s iconic hamburguesa-doble. On the right he doesn’t loop his thumb around his suspender strap, but instead holds a taco (of course!). In non-Big Boy news, I love the beach vagabond hats covering the florescent lighting. This place actually looked pretty good, but we didn’t try it as we had lunch with the whole fam. Besides, I don’t think they were open yet (see empty jugos containers on the—is that an ironing board? Or just a cleverly designed folding table?).

And lastly, Dr. Taco could not help but catch my eye. Genius marketing! Who doesn’t want to buy tacos from a hirsute-legged, speedo-wearing, stethoscope-bedecked, mustachioed old dude? Plus, he seems to be dancing in those Peppermint Patty shoes. Ok, I heart Dr. Taco.

While the meal we had in Playa wasn’t the best, there is plenty of good, or at the least memorable, food to be had there—just as long as your stomachs lead you off of the tourist-beaten track.

I spent the entire week of Thanksgiving with my family at an all-inclusive resort, the Barcelo Maya Palace, on the Yucatan Peninsula, mercifully far south of rowdy Cancun. I must say that while I knew this was probably the most relaxing option for us, and certainly the best idea for the kids (my nieces and nephew, all under age 9), I still wasn’t totally sold on the all-inclusive idea. When I travel, I really like to experience the culture, and especially the food, of the place I am visiting, and the idea of eating at French and Japanese restaurants at a secluded resort in Mexico seemed a little odd to me.

While I must admit that the culinary offerings weren’t the highlight of the stay, I hasten to say that this all-inclusive experience was amazing–I couldn’t have been more wrong in my misgivings.  There was so much to do on-site: several pools, a beautiful beach, great snorkeling (on clear days) in crystal water, shuffleboard (I swear, it is actually fun!), bocce ball, tennis, ping pong, and of course lounging in a hammock with a margarita is a possibility in time of day. Plus, there are tons of things to see off-site, from eco- and water-parks to Mayan ruins. It was a really great week for everyone, adults and kids alike. Perhaps it wasn’t the most culturally enriching vacation, but it was exactly the sort of relaxing, stress-free trip we needed—I would return in a heartbeat.

As to the food: In general, all-inclusives are not renowned for having great food (my sister suspects this might be because the unlimited free alcohol leads to less discerning guests!). I think anyplace that must serve thousands of people a wide variety of eatin’ options at every meal is not going to have the best food. That said, the food at Barcelo Maya Palace was better most institutional-level eateries out there. And strangely, where they seemed to cut corners was at the formal sit-down, table-service restaurants (like the Caribbean joint, left).

The Barcelo Maya Resort group offers nine “a la carte” restaurants in all (in addition to buffets and snack bar/grills, which were open for longer hours), and we ate dinner at four of them: The French, Caribbean, Brazilian, and Mexican. All the meals got mixed reviews from our group. Some people in our twelve-person posse preferred the Mexican and Brazilian places, others put those two in last place. We all liked enough things at the buffets and snack bars to keep us happy, and the kids (well, okay, the Hubs and I included!) probably liked the buffets the best. It was much better than I expected it to be, though not every dish hit it out of the ballpark.

There were tons of fresh fruit, cereals, pastries, made-to-order omelets, and anything else you might want in the a.m. at the breakfast buffet. The biggest hit for breakfast I think were the chillequilles, which were prepared without eggs, but that you could top with a red or green-sauce poached egg. Yum!

We ate most lunches at the grill, which was actually a smaller version of the buffet (the buffets also had made-to-order grilling stations), but had a more outdoors-y setting. Again, the lunch and dinner buffets offered some good and bad things, but enough good to keep us full and happy, though most of us were not big on the mayonnaise-based prepared salads featured at lunch. But there were plenty of other lunch and dinner options, from pizza and pasta for the kids, to soup, salad and sandwich fixin’s, and custom-ordered fajitas. There were Mexican specialties at every buffet, and I loved that I could have guacamole at every meal, including breakfast! It was good guacamole, too.

At all of the table-service restaurants, some of the details were off. For instance, the delicate piped stars that we were told was flavored butter, was actually flavored margarine, or maybe Crisco—it had that mouth-coating greasy feel that even most margarines these days lack (the buffets featured real butter, oddly). Also, all the restaurants seemed to have issues with serving food at the right temperature. Many things meant to be hot were served lukewarm or cold. Service in general was unpredictable; it was great at the French restaurant and at the buffet for dinner, but not as good at the other restaurants or the buffets for breakfast or lunch.

Our first meal at a table service restaurant was at the French Brasserie. As with the other restaurants, this got mixed reviews from my family (as there were 12 of us, I suppose this is to be expected). The boulliabasse looked spectacular (left), but tasted a little less so. Some of the other dishes, like the surf and turf, and a fish entree were bigger hits. We were there the night of my sister’s birthday, and the staff gave her the most memorable (and loud) happy birthday greeting I have ever seen, with one waiter cracking a towel somehow to sound exactly like firecrackers. It was hysterical. She was mortified. Everyone else, of course, was delighted. This was the Hubs favorite table-service restaurant, and my bro-in-law’s too.

We had Brazilian on Thanksgiving, and it was, I guess, an appropriate celebration of all things meat (served on those weird Brazilian meat swords seen exclusively at Brazilian restaurants). The turkey (on a sword!) was the biggest hit of the night, appropriately, though one piece was undercooked (um, ick). Other complaints were that the cuts of meat were not top-notch. But I’d say a good half of us enjoyed this meal. It was among my brother’s favorite places.

Unfortunately, I didn’t take pictures at the Brazilian or Mexican meals, or any of the buffets (I know! I don’t know what was up with me—I guess I was too much into vacation mode even to blog!). But you can get the flava of our meals from the mini photo essay below. P.S. Included are pictures taken by my nieces and nephew, ages 6 through 9, which accounts for the picture of the fish sticks and some other cool photos.

Tomorrow: Our daytrip to Playa del Carmen.

More on the family Thanksgiving vacation later today, but for now, this (to whet your appetite):

You might imagine we drank mostly margaritas whilst vacationing on the Mayan Riviera (as they call this stretch of the Yucatan coast), but bars at the Barcelo Maya Palace resort (where we stayed) had a host of tropical frou-frou drinks that even the most serious imbiber would have a hard time resisting when staying here. Don’t get me wrong, in New York, I wouldn’t deign to order a drink called the Banana Republic or, heavens to murgatroid, a Strawberry Daiquiri from a machine, but on the Mexican Caribbean, one simply must, well, do as the Mayans do, as they say.

I think it is safe to say that the favorite frou-drink of our family ended up being the Isla de Coco, which was a frothy coconut and rum confection floating atop a “sea” of blue curacao. (That’s it, just to the left of the no-smoking placard that I was apparently already too swizzled to think to remove from the cocktail-table still life before photo-ing.) As a rule, I am not a fan of blue curacao, but here it worked to cut the sweetness of the rest of the drink and add a little punch. It was so festive, tasty, and satisfying!

I must try to replicate the recipe–I can think of a better way to ring in the beginning of our New York summer. Seven. Long. Months. From. Now.

Technically speaking, I am back in already-wintery New York, but my thoughts are still lounging somewhere on a palm-tree-studded beach, meditating on the crystal blue waters of the Mexican Caribbean. Check in tomorrow for word on my culinary adventures (and misadventures) in Mexico, and what I have been up to in the kitchen since.