There is no Greater Love than the Love of Food ... and ... Beaches
OK, so let's wrap th
is up. All I can say is that I had some great meals and some meals that did not quite live up to the hype, when I was in Anguilla. Sand Bar not only lived up to the hype, but I liked it SO much, that I went back a second time, even though there were so many other places I had hoped to visit during my short 4 day stay. But I just HAD to sample whatever menu offerings I left behind the first night.
It isn't just the fact that the chef is Canadian, and formerly from one of the chi-chi hotels in Anguilla, or that her husband who also doubles as the bar-tender offers weary lone travelers a true Anguillian welcome, or the teriffic sunsets, or the reasonable pricing ... No, I think it's just
the way that all these elements somehow weave together to provide a very real and relaxed experience. This place is not stuffy in the least, nor is it a beach shack. Yet it is right on the beach! I think if I lived in Anguilla, this would be my after-work hang-out. I liked it that much. Seriously I must have really liked it, since over the space of 2 nights, I sampled the following:
->The freshest of salads made with local greens, with a light, tangy dressing
->Chicken livers, with watermelon (sounds awful, but it was dee-lish!)
->Spicy fries with a dipping sauce (mayo-based, I think)
->A goat-cheese, fruity coulis (cranberry? balsamic something-something?) fr
ench bread combo with a bunch of other stuff ... it was a year ago, and my memory is fading ... but, oh me, oh my, was it ever yum, umm, yummie!!
->Chicken Satay & Lemongrass skewers
->Roasted carrots with sesame seeds and a gossamer-light honey glaze -> Saltfish with creamy potatoes and green onion ...
And a couple of mojitos ... sigh.
After my second visit, I wandered down the beach and spent a bit of time at Elvis' Beach Bar. Noooo, silly .... not the Graceland Elvis, the Anguilla Grassland Elvis! I was to have met up with a couple whom I met the previous evening at SandBar. Not sure if I was early or late, but I never did see them there. Elvis provided a great welcome, and some entertaining stories while I waited ... and waited. I began to feel conspicuous, however, as there were a bunch of folks ... locals, ex-pats, frequent sojourners, who all seemed to know each other, at the other end of the funky boat-shaped beach bar ... who all kept staring at me. Hmmm, well y'all could have been a little friendlier (if any of you are reading this!) Nobody, but nobody even made an effort to be nice ... in fact, w
hen I did try to strike up a convo with a mid-age couple, they sort of wandered away. So, I made a quick check of my hair in my compact mirror - just checking to make sure that my hair hadn't re-arranged itself back into the Ed Grimley "cone" of "geekiness." Nope, everything looked OK, and my makeup seemed subtle and lipstick just the right hue to offset the tan that was slowly taking hold. So, when I couldn't take the lonliness and cold ambience any longer (aside from Elvis - he was a gentleman and a real character, at that!), and seeing no sign of my new friends, I left. Went back to Sandbar for a nightcap, where I was welcomed warmly by staff and patrons. Seriously, by now I felt that I had family here.
The next day, when I woke up, I figured out what the folks at Elvis's might have been put off by ... I had somehow developed the most bizarre sunburn on my legs ... it didn't hurt, but the front of both shins looked like they had been scalded with boiling oil. They looked like they had been splashed, red, pink, angry orange. Uneven, rorshach-like matching patterns on both legs. Those gambs must have been quite a sight, last night - contrasted every so effectively by my ivory capris and pewter-toned Brazilian rubber flip-flops (sustainability-correct flip-flops, because they are made from recycled tires, and they come with a certificate of authenticity that say so!) Well, I had a good laugh (where are those travel-pals when you need someone to giggle with?) ... and I readied myself to head over to DaVida, where I hoped to spend part of my last day in Anguilla. I took those rorshach-patterned limbs with me to St. Kitts for the second week of my holiday. Took forever to clear up and m
ade for interesting coversation, like ... "Oh my gawd! What the hell happened to your leeeeeggggs?!"
Reflecting back on my visit to Elvis ... I think those folks were just a tad snooty. And that is OK with me. After all, Anguilla attracts a lot of moneyed snobs, right? You can't expect perfection, right? From the beaches, maybe. But from people? Nope. Never gonna happen.
So, Wednesday there were some threatening rain clouds in the sky, and they followed me all the way to DaVida on Crocus Bay. Now I actually found the road to this place easy to identify from the main road, as it is paved and I passed it about a thousand times on that first day of driving. I even drove it for a brief 1/8 of a mile to check out a little plaza that day. This morning, what I didn't realize was that there is steep hill that you have to negotiate to actually get to Crocus Bay. Steep-up, and steep-down. Hey, I thought this island was flat!?! This steep hill goes through a residential neighbourhood with narrow road and various autos parked in all sorts of configurations, and road construction ... oh my! Made it through and as I descended toward the beach, I knew it was worth the ninety seconds of "white-nuckle-ing"! Too bad it started to rain in earnest. This place is stunning, with a great, welcoming parking lot, beautiful landscaping, gorgeous wooden decking that forms part of both the open air restaurant and bar. So, to get out of the rain, I ducked into a shop and had a lovely conversation with the lady who runs it and some repeat visitors from the U.S. Mid-west. See? Everyone was friendly here! Definitely going back next time.
Remembering that someone told me when it rains on one side of Anguilla the sun is surely shining on the other, I dashed between raindrops to my little auto, and attempted to follow the sun. I landed myself at Bankie Banx Dune Preserve. Very funky place. It was lunch time. I was a bit early, so had my choice of tables. Ordered a rum punch and pretended to read my book, while all along I people-watched, as families slowly made there way along the beach from the hotel in the distance (why can't I remember which one? Cap Juluca? Cuisinart? Rich Folks R Us?) ...
The rum punch was excellent and potent. The Carib cold. I got a little woozy from mixing my drinks so I ordered lunch - a chicken mango salad. And I have to say this was unequivocally the worst salad I have ever had in my life. Seriously. It tased like it was from an amusement park concession stand. The nice could see my distress, I suppose, because he kept coming over to ask if I was OK. I just didn't have the heart or the energy, being too relaxed and feeling the effects of the rum in my veins, to complain. So I very surreptitiously feed bits of chicken to a stray puppy that had sidled up to the edge of the rail on the beach side from my table. Naturally, I emerged from my food let-down a bit of a hero to the newbie family at the next table, because they thought it was SO nice and brave of me to feed a stray pup. I am glad I didn't complain. But seriously, the chicken tasted bland and boiled. The mango was from a can, and the dressing overpowering over wilted romain. A real let-down compared to my lunch at Trattoria Tramonto. And my tab was only with a few dollars difference. As an aside, I have been reading lately about beach erosion at the Dune, and I think it was evident even last April. The beach didn't quite look as I had recalled it in photos, there was a drop-off only a few feet from the bottom of the stairs to the sea. And another aside, I was sent with a message for Bankie, but he was off-island and my visit was a few short weeks after his big Moonsplash festival ... so I wonder if his place was experiencing a sort of post-festival "hangover"? Whatever it was, as far as beach bars go, I was a bit disappointed. That said, I'll bet dollars-to-Tim-Hortons-donuts that this place must be a blast at night. I don't know, but it was just "missing" something the Wednesday that I visited.
In retrospect, I should have gone to Smokey's on the Cove or to FerryBoat Inn for a nice burger, as these were also on my list ... ah well, I never did make to these two spots. More for next time, I guess. And who knows when that will be? Sniff, sniff ... sigh ...
Well, I also wanted to talk about my leaving day and the bizarre breakfast experience, and harrowing ride I took with the car rental lady, as she escorted me to the ferry ... but it all makes me want to go back NOW ... even the bad stuff is not so bad, eh? Funny, but not nearly what I would define as bad. Unless you expect to get coffee and pastries at a French bistro for breakfast, but when you get there, the guy tells you there is no coffee because the Italian "steam machine is "broke down" ... so you ask for tea. Nope. No hot water due to same broke down machine! What, they don't have a kettle? Apparently not. A sauce-pan to boil water? Nope again. Sensing touristic disappointment, waiter dude says they'll make me whatever I want. So, I look at the menu and order fresh orange juice for starters. Guess what? No such animal available today. So, I get bottled Snapple. I ask for French Toast ... strike out again. No egg bread, which is what they usually make it with. Then a thought occurs to waiter dude ... they can slice up some baguette that is normally reserved for continental breakfast ... you know, the kind? It comes with coffee?! That beverage that they couldn't serve due to equipment breakdown. Well, the french-baguette-toast was indeed delicious. Not crazy about the orange Snapple, though. And the car ride with Madame-long-nails? Holy crap ... she almost propelled me right off the peer ...
I really wish I was exaggerating, but the first part of my last morning was really that bizarre! Which only made Anguilla all the more endeering to me. It may cater to the well-heeled, particular, pretentious ... it may have next to perfect beaches ...but it is just "flawed" enough to make it just the right spot for a return visit by Calamity-Jill!
Yep, I can still hear those roosters crowing, just a few feet behind La Vue. And see those goats and island dogs that liked to block my way on the roads ... and smell the sea ... and hear its swooshing waves ... All that's missing are those pesky vervet monkeys that are all over my other favourite isles!! And gosh, am I ever loving those $29 flip-flops from Irie Life, just the funkiest little shop right next to La Vue! But honestly? I can't wait to go back just to sleep on one of those beaches again ... and to eat my way around the island. I'll have to stay a few weeks, though ... because I plan to make SandBar a regular stop ... and I have to hit up all those places I missed, including weekend BBQ stands! Oh ... so much food, so little vacation budget!
is up. All I can say is that I had some great meals and some meals that did not quite live up to the hype, when I was in Anguilla. Sand Bar not only lived up to the hype, but I liked it SO much, that I went back a second time, even though there were so many other places I had hoped to visit during my short 4 day stay. But I just HAD to sample whatever menu offerings I left behind the first night. It isn't just the fact that the chef is Canadian, and formerly from one of the chi-chi hotels in Anguilla, or that her husband who also doubles as the bar-tender offers weary lone travelers a true Anguillian welcome, or the teriffic sunsets, or the reasonable pricing ... No, I think it's just
the way that all these elements somehow weave together to provide a very real and relaxed experience. This place is not stuffy in the least, nor is it a beach shack. Yet it is right on the beach! I think if I lived in Anguilla, this would be my after-work hang-out. I liked it that much. Seriously I must have really liked it, since over the space of 2 nights, I sampled the following: ->The freshest of salads made with local greens, with a light, tangy dressing
->Chicken livers, with watermelon (sounds awful, but it was dee-lish!)
->Spicy fries with a dipping sauce (mayo-based, I think)
->A goat-cheese, fruity coulis (cranberry? balsamic something-something?) fr
ench bread combo with a bunch of other stuff ... it was a year ago, and my memory is fading ... but, oh me, oh my, was it ever yum, umm, yummie!! ->Chicken Satay & Lemongrass skewers
->Roasted carrots with sesame seeds and a gossamer-light honey glaze -> Saltfish with creamy potatoes and green onion ...
And a couple of mojitos ... sigh.
After my second visit, I wandered down the beach and spent a bit of time at Elvis' Beach Bar. Noooo, silly .... not the Graceland Elvis, the Anguilla Grassland Elvis! I was to have met up with a couple whom I met the previous evening at SandBar. Not sure if I was early or late, but I never did see them there. Elvis provided a great welcome, and some entertaining stories while I waited ... and waited. I began to feel conspicuous, however, as there were a bunch of folks ... locals, ex-pats, frequent sojourners, who all seemed to know each other, at the other end of the funky boat-shaped beach bar ... who all kept staring at me. Hmmm, well y'all could have been a little friendlier (if any of you are reading this!) Nobody, but nobody even made an effort to be nice ... in fact, w
hen I did try to strike up a convo with a mid-age couple, they sort of wandered away. So, I made a quick check of my hair in my compact mirror - just checking to make sure that my hair hadn't re-arranged itself back into the Ed Grimley "cone" of "geekiness." Nope, everything looked OK, and my makeup seemed subtle and lipstick just the right hue to offset the tan that was slowly taking hold. So, when I couldn't take the lonliness and cold ambience any longer (aside from Elvis - he was a gentleman and a real character, at that!), and seeing no sign of my new friends, I left. Went back to Sandbar for a nightcap, where I was welcomed warmly by staff and patrons. Seriously, by now I felt that I had family here. The next day, when I woke up, I figured out what the folks at Elvis's might have been put off by ... I had somehow developed the most bizarre sunburn on my legs ... it didn't hurt, but the front of both shins looked like they had been scalded with boiling oil. They looked like they had been splashed, red, pink, angry orange. Uneven, rorshach-like matching patterns on both legs. Those gambs must have been quite a sight, last night - contrasted every so effectively by my ivory capris and pewter-toned Brazilian rubber flip-flops (sustainability-correct flip-flops, because they are made from recycled tires, and they come with a certificate of authenticity that say so!) Well, I had a good laugh (where are those travel-pals when you need someone to giggle with?) ... and I readied myself to head over to DaVida, where I hoped to spend part of my last day in Anguilla. I took those rorshach-patterned limbs with me to St. Kitts for the second week of my holiday. Took forever to clear up and m
ade for interesting coversation, like ... "Oh my gawd! What the hell happened to your leeeeeggggs?!" Reflecting back on my visit to Elvis ... I think those folks were just a tad snooty. And that is OK with me. After all, Anguilla attracts a lot of moneyed snobs, right? You can't expect perfection, right? From the beaches, maybe. But from people? Nope. Never gonna happen.
So, Wednesday there were some threatening rain clouds in the sky, and they followed me all the way to DaVida on Crocus Bay. Now I actually found the road to this place easy to identify from the main road, as it is paved and I passed it about a thousand times on that first day of driving. I even drove it for a brief 1/8 of a mile to check out a little plaza that day. This morning, what I didn't realize was that there is steep hill that you have to negotiate to actually get to Crocus Bay. Steep-up, and steep-down. Hey, I thought this island was flat!?! This steep hill goes through a residential neighbourhood with narrow road and various autos parked in all sorts of configurations, and road construction ... oh my! Made it through and as I descended toward the beach, I knew it was worth the ninety seconds of "white-nuckle-ing"! Too bad it started to rain in earnest. This place is stunning, with a great, welcoming parking lot, beautiful landscaping, gorgeous wooden decking that forms part of both the open air restaurant and bar. So, to get out of the rain, I ducked into a shop and had a lovely conversation with the lady who runs it and some repeat visitors from the U.S. Mid-west. See? Everyone was friendly here! Definitely going back next time.
Remembering that someone told me when it rains on one side of Anguilla the sun is surely shining on the other, I dashed between raindrops to my little auto, and attempted to follow the sun. I landed myself at Bankie Banx Dune Preserve. Very funky place. It was lunch time. I was a bit early, so had my choice of tables. Ordered a rum punch and pretended to read my book, while all along I people-watched, as families slowly made there way along the beach from the hotel in the distance (why can't I remember which one? Cap Juluca? Cuisinart? Rich Folks R Us?) ...
The rum punch was excellent and potent. The Carib cold. I got a little woozy from mixing my drinks so I ordered lunch - a chicken mango salad. And I have to say this was unequivocally the worst salad I have ever had in my life. Seriously. It tased like it was from an amusement park concession stand. The nice could see my distress, I suppose, because he kept coming over to ask if I was OK. I just didn't have the heart or the energy, being too relaxed and feeling the effects of the rum in my veins, to complain. So I very surreptitiously feed bits of chicken to a stray puppy that had sidled up to the edge of the rail on the beach side from my table. Naturally, I emerged from my food let-down a bit of a hero to the newbie family at the next table, because they thought it was SO nice and brave of me to feed a stray pup. I am glad I didn't complain. But seriously, the chicken tasted bland and boiled. The mango was from a can, and the dressing overpowering over wilted romain. A real let-down compared to my lunch at Trattoria Tramonto. And my tab was only with a few dollars difference. As an aside, I have been reading lately about beach erosion at the Dune, and I think it was evident even last April. The beach didn't quite look as I had recalled it in photos, there was a drop-off only a few feet from the bottom of the stairs to the sea. And another aside, I was sent with a message for Bankie, but he was off-island and my visit was a few short weeks after his big Moonsplash festival ... so I wonder if his place was experiencing a sort of post-festival "hangover"? Whatever it was, as far as beach bars go, I was a bit disappointed. That said, I'll bet dollars-to-Tim-Hortons-donuts that this place must be a blast at night. I don't know, but it was just "missing" something the Wednesday that I visited.
In retrospect, I should have gone to Smokey's on the Cove or to FerryBoat Inn for a nice burger, as these were also on my list ... ah well, I never did make to these two spots. More for next time, I guess. And who knows when that will be? Sniff, sniff ... sigh ...
Well, I also wanted to talk about my leaving day and the bizarre breakfast experience, and harrowing ride I took with the car rental lady, as she escorted me to the ferry ... but it all makes me want to go back NOW ... even the bad stuff is not so bad, eh? Funny, but not nearly what I would define as bad. Unless you expect to get coffee and pastries at a French bistro for breakfast, but when you get there, the guy tells you there is no coffee because the Italian "steam machine is "broke down" ... so you ask for tea. Nope. No hot water due to same broke down machine! What, they don't have a kettle? Apparently not. A sauce-pan to boil water? Nope again. Sensing touristic disappointment, waiter dude says they'll make me whatever I want. So, I look at the menu and order fresh orange juice for starters. Guess what? No such animal available today. So, I get bottled Snapple. I ask for French Toast ... strike out again. No egg bread, which is what they usually make it with. Then a thought occurs to waiter dude ... they can slice up some baguette that is normally reserved for continental breakfast ... you know, the kind? It comes with coffee?! That beverage that they couldn't serve due to equipment breakdown. Well, the french-baguette-toast was indeed delicious. Not crazy about the orange Snapple, though. And the car ride with Madame-long-nails? Holy crap ... she almost propelled me right off the peer ...
I really wish I was exaggerating, but the first part of my last morning was really that bizarre! Which only made Anguilla all the more endeering to me. It may cater to the well-heeled, particular, pretentious ... it may have next to perfect beaches ...but it is just "flawed" enough to make it just the right spot for a return visit by Calamity-Jill!
Yep, I can still hear those roosters crowing, just a few feet behind La Vue. And see those goats and island dogs that liked to block my way on the roads ... and smell the sea ... and hear its swooshing waves ... All that's missing are those pesky vervet monkeys that are all over my other favourite isles!! And gosh, am I ever loving those $29 flip-flops from Irie Life, just the funkiest little shop right next to La Vue! But honestly? I can't wait to go back just to sleep on one of those beaches again ... and to eat my way around the island. I'll have to stay a few weeks, though ... because I plan to make SandBar a regular stop ... and I have to hit up all those places I missed, including weekend BBQ stands! Oh ... so much food, so little vacation budget!
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