We were up for anther glorious sunrise and just enjoyed our time on the ocean side of Luna D’Miel. 

Brother #3

One of our favourite beach vendors.

Later that morning we went to find Brother #3 and his wife on North Beach. 

When lunch time came around we walked the short distance to the Loncherias (across from Las Palmas).

This little sweetie was on her school lunch break.

Over the years, we have eaten at three of the four Loncherias and decided that it was high time to make it a fait du complete by visiting Poc Chuc. 

D had a chicken burrito and I the poc chuc.

Even though the latter is not usually accompanied by papas fritoes, they very cheerfully accompanied me.

We luxuriated in the setting sun.

That night we visited Ziggy, the personable waiter from Café Cito’s at Monchi’s  in Colonia’s  for dinner.  Ziggy, like so many Islanders, works night and day and in the evening he is the cook at Monchi’s.  It was my first visit and will not be my last.

The evening started with slices of baguette with a garlicky dip.  I ordered pineapple fried rice with chicken where Ziggy scoops out a pineapple then mixes the fruit with a twist on his fried rice recipe including shredded purple cabbage and celery.  

D and Sister #3 loved the coconut shrimp. 

Sis-in-law had the fish special which was stuffed with seafood in a white sauce and wrapped up and baked in a foil packet. 

We all love the chayote (sp?) which tasted like a cross between a melon and cucumber. 

Dona tucked into garlic shrimp. 

Brother #3 was really pleased with his enormous burrito.

Time is slipping away from me since we spent our two glorious weeks on our precious Isla and even though I keep a travel diary, the details are slipping away from me too.  But I can tell you with certainty, the emotions that I was experiencing that day, because they are the same ones that I have everyday that I spend on the island-delight in the rising sun and glorious days spent basking in it; deep satisfaction with the food so carefully prepared by the exceptional Isla cooks; peace while gazing at the turquoise sea and setting sun; and lastly, immense joy when in the company of my beloved family and Isla family. 

Kath’s quote: “He is the very pineapple of politeness!” Richard Brinsley Sheridan

My coffee filters at Luna D’Miel-I kid you not!

Love-that is all.

I think of myself as someone with a pretty good palette.  I can usually identify the herbs in a sauce or what kind of nuts where used in a stuffing, but when it come to wine I have never developed a refined palette.  

In my early days in the restaurant business I was working with a new General Manager who had come to our family style restaurant from a very high end establishment.  He decided that we needed to change the house wine so he did his best to teach me to properly taste wine.  In my twenty year old (at the time) opinion all his sniffing, swirling and spitting seemed a bit ridiculous.   

When it comes to wine I have always been one of those “I like what I like” girls; but I could never really tell you why I like it.  I’ve often been mystified by people who say they taste coffee in this wine and smell freshly cut grass in another.  Really? They don’t actually put things like coffee and grass in wine you know!  When someone asks me what fruit I taste in a particular glass of wine, I’m embarrassed to say “I taste grapes”.

Recently, I’ve been spending time with a friend who has a passion for wine; I decided it is time for me to gain a better understanding of the characteristics of various wines, and how you use my mouth to figure them out.  So when I was invited by a co-worker to girls night out that involved a wine tasting lesson, how could I refuse?

A large group of us descended on De Luca’s Fine Wines’ on Saturday night for our private wine tasting.  Our instructor walked us through each step of how to asses the colour, clarity, smell (AKA nose) and taste (AKA palate) of our wines.  We learned how to taste a sparkling and a port as well as a variety of white and red wines.  We learned a bit about where each wine came from and how it was produced.  Certain wines were matched with certain cheese and chocolate to enhance their flavour.  And I am pleased to report that after learning the right way to aerate and sniff my wine, I smelt the illusive fresh cut grass in one of the night’s selections.  I even smelled leather and tobacco in another. 

It was a fun evening and I learned a lot.  I am still far from being a coinsurer. I still find it   a struggle to not giggle as everyone around me is slurping air through their pursed lips. But at least I am starting to get a feel for this thing. 

I like wine, but I love food, so if nothing else this experience has caused me to be even more intrigued with the concept of pairing the right wine with my food.  I hope to do much more of that kind of research in the future.

Kath’s quote: “Everyone eats and drinks, but few appreciate taste.”Confucius

Love-that is all.

Today is the last day of the first three day weekend of lake season.  On the Canadian prairies this is typically the time when summer cottages are opened for the season.  Many cottage owners draw their water from a pointy pipe driven into the sand where the water table sits.  Typically by May long weekend, the water has melted sufficiently to be drawn up through the pipe.  Once the water is hooked up, the summer can officially begin.

There are nine of us and three dogs in our 500 square foot cabin-thank heavens the rains have stayed away.  Currently a beer tasting is going on the front deck.  This is official research for J1’s brew master’s course.

The weekend has been relatively laid back with walks, naps, movies, books, amazing food, beverages and visits with extended family members (we have three cottages on the same road).

There have been three major foodies finds over the weekend.  Sister #2 has discovered a mini omelet made in a muffin tin.  She precooked red peppers, sausage and bacon and then placed these with green onion and shredded cheddar into the bottom of a muffin tin lined with papers.   She then poured in the eggs and baked them just before the masses gathered around the dining table on the front deck.  She made extra to freeze for her husband who often stays up at the lake to work on the construction of a new cottage.

The second find, occurred when our gang was put in charge of Sunday supper.  Daughter #2 and The Frenchman made a couple of their delicious and nutritious super salads and J1 and J2 assembled the ingredients for prime bib burgers and smokies.  Daughter #1 was in charge of toppers and the big hit were the Durkee crispy fried onions that smacked on flavour and crunch.  Once you selected your meat choice you placed it on a multi-grain tortilla and added your toppings.  Then your selected was wrapped up and placed back on the grill for a second round, thereby melding the flavours together and melting the cheese.  Choosing a tortilla to encase everything, significantly cuts down the carbs and calories, even of a PC thin burger or hot dog bun.

I contributed the desert and it was the perfect opportunity to try out my new sugar cookie recipe using Monk Fruit In the Raw sugar substitute and cutting the sugar content in half.   There were many accolades for the buttery taste of the cookie itself and everyone noticed how the reduced sugar did not jeopardize the taste in the least.  They retained a crispy “snap” to them like a ginger cookie.

Spring takes a long time to arrive on the Canadian prairies and this year, even more so.  The trees are just now starting to sprout their summer foliage.  The green hue is bright and alive and unique to the spring.  In honour of this lovely occurrence, our delicious cookies were decorated accordingly.

Kath’s quote: “Of all the wonders of nature, a tree in summer is perhaps the most remarkable; with the possible exception of a moose singing ‘Embraceable You’ in spats.”
Woody Allen

Love-that is all.

Mango Café (found in Colonia Meterorologico on Isla Mujeres, Mexico) is infamous as a great place for breakfast.  Our first ever visit to Mango was for dinner on the equally infamous Jamaican Night hosted every Monday.

I love Mango.  The owner Polo is a great host and the food is fantastic. I make a point of making at least one stop there every trip but it occurred to me that I have never tried their regular dinner menu. I was so over the moon with their Jamaican food and breakfast items, how could I have overlooked an opportunity to sample even more of their fare?

The menu at dinner is not extensive, but I am a firm believer in doing less and doing it really well, instead of doing lots and it being just OK.  We were a party of seven and most of us ordered different items, so this meant I got a look at almost every item on the menu.

We started with a couple of orders of Tostones for the table.  These yummy fried plantains were topped with a green apple guacamole, an interesting twist on tradition.

For our mains the boys ordered Ajilla catch of the day in a garlic and gualillo chili sauce and chicken stuffed with guava paste, cream cheese and chaya, a Mexican green thought to be a super food.

Two of the girls ordered enchiladas and tropical fish stuffed with crab, shrimp and cheese topped with a pepita (pumpkin seed) sauce.

Three of us wanted to try the chicken skewers served with coconut peanut sauce.  My friends made a special request to have a side of rice to make this appetizer into a light meal.  I, on the other hand, added another appetizer to make mine dinner.

I tried the jalapeno peppers stuffed with goat cheese and blue cheese and topped with bacon.  These were served with two dips; habenero jelly and tamarind balsamic dressing.

As we were celebrating the recent nuptials of friends who joined us for dinner, we decided we had to conclude the evening with a couple desserts and seven forks.  We had the cheese cake which was scrumptious; served on a chocolate crust topped with strawberries and sauce. We all love the coconut crusted French toast at Mango for breakfast and at dinner they turn this delicacy into dessert by topping it with vanilla ice-cream and caramel sauce, calling it Mango toast and cream.

The attention to detail in the food at Mango is exemplary.  Even the beverages were a delight.  Many of us enjoyed the ginger lemonade and a few others ordered a variety of agua frescas, refreshing fruit waters made with everything from watermelon to hibiscus flower.

I know that next year I will have to be back for breakfast but will also return for dinner.  Only problem is I just noticed a lunch menu packed with items I’ve yet to try.  So much food, so little time!

Kath’s quote: “One way can be learned by starting to see the magic in everything. Sometimes it seems to be hiding but it is always there. The more we can see the magic in one thing, a tiny flower, a mango, someone we love, then the more we are able to see the magic in everything and in everyone. Where does the mango stop and the sky begin?”- Joshua Kadison

Love-that is all.

I received a stack of food-centric fiction from the library recently and since this title was such an obvious fit for this space, I read Anthony Capella’s work first.  The story is set in Italy which also checks off another box for me.  The premise is a Cyrano de Bergerac tale and I adore stories of unrequited love: “to love pure and chaste from afar….”  The sexual recounting was a wee bit too explicit for my liking, but keep in mind that I grew up on Harlequin romances, where somehow the single kiss and embrace at the stories’ end was the hottest thing that I could imagine.  What kept me reading through the uncomfortable pages was the author’s ease with the character’s culinary adventures.  Here is an excerpt from Chapter 9, pages 111-112 (photos are mine).

He had placed a large wooden bowl on top of his work surface.  Handmade pasta is never prepared on marble; its coldness stiffens the dough and prevents the breakdown of glutens.  A pile of Tipo 00, the finest grade of flour, stood to one side, light as ash, its top gently flattened to make a small crater.

Into this he poured some beaten eggs.  Drawing the flour over the egg mixture with the tines of a fork, he worked the two together a little at a time.

Then he put the fork aside and started to use his fingers.

Gradually the sliminess of the eggs and the dryness of the flour became one smooth, muscular mass, worked and reworked until there was no trace of stickiness.

After he washed and dried his hands, he was able to press his thumb into the mixture and pull it out again without the dough clinging to his skin at all.

Using the heel of his palm, he pushed the dough away from him, then folded it over.  A quick half turn, and then he did the same again, slowly breaking down its inner resistance.  Push, fold, turn.  Push, fold, turn.  Pasta making is a ritual, both in the kneading and in the stretching, the same hand motions performed over and over again, as automatic and precise as the movements of a master plasterer or a pianist.  Bruno kept up his kneading for exactly eight minutes.  It was hard, physical work, and he was soon perspiring freely, but slowly the dough became elastic, its surface as smooth as Laura’s skin.

…

After about fifteen minutes, he returned to his dough, squashed it down a little, and picked up his pasta rolling pin.  It was as long as a sword-thirty-two inches, to be precise-and thinner than a conventional rolling pin, so that it would spin more quickly between his hands as he pushed it over the pasta.  The trick was not to use force.  You were not so much squeezing the pasta flat as pushing it gently outward, like spreading icing across the surface of a cake.

When the rolled dough was the size of a pizza base, he changed the movements of his hands, letting them slide sideways along the pin as he worked, distributing pressure evenly along its length.  This was the hardest part.  Bruno knew he was not as good at this as a housewife somewhere in Emilia-Romagna, who did it every day of her life, but there was no time to be cautious.  If he went too slowly, the pasta would lose its moisture and crack before he was done.  He felt his way into the dough, stretching it little by little off the table each time he rolled it.  It was time to stop and cut the pasta into tortellini.

Kath’s quote: I remember the meals that were meant to dazzle you, to excite you, to comfort you, even to seduce you.  But there was never a single dish or recipe that was designed to tell you the simple truth….I’ve always loved you.” Anthony Capella

Love-that is all.  Photo taken at the Valentine’s day dinner that D prepared for me…