Every morning, no matter where you are, the sun comes up.   

I haven’t always been a morning person; I have the Dragonfly Inn to thank for that.   In my time as an Innkeeper, the early morning hours were precious.  No distractions, a quiet house.  It became “me” time...  a meditation... a cup of coffee... the Zen & the Zing.   

More than caffeine, coffee is a morning ritual for me.  The smell of it, the way it fills the room with a warm, heavy aroma.  In my travels through Central America, I thrilled each morning to wake up to some truly outstanding coffee.   

Of the many, three stand out in my mind; coffee so perfect in each moment that it made my eyes roll back in my head, a little moan escape my lips...      

... all the richness you'd expect from Mr. Coppola!

ONE:  Placencia, Belize; the Turtle Inn.

The Turtle Inn was one of my most indulgent moments; I stumbled upon it years ago while researching tourism properties and marketing direction for the Dragonfly Inn as I launched my own brand of hospitality.  More than any other, the Turtle Inn website was a profound influence, a Coppola Resort property (yes, Francis Ford Coppola...) their marketing was completely personal in its approach encouraging me to do the same.  Be personal.  (At the very least, shouldn't life be... personal?!)     

It was a dream come true to spend two days in the opulence that is Turtle Inn, greatly pampered - after a week in the atolls at an eco-resort, camping on the beach - to swim in a semi-private pool and indulge in Italian food and an amazing wine list and a setting so completely perfect that even I could not approve on it.    

Coffee service is one of the many little indulgences offered guests at the Turtle Inn.  Brewed fresh and brought to your door with raw sugar and steamed milk; the coffee offered is nothing short of a personal note from Mr. Coppola himself.   His favorite bean.  

A dark, rich, full bodied roast from Nicaragua.    

*Eyes rolling back in head moment. * 

The balance of a slight bitterness of a big roast levelled by the extreme sweetness of the raw sugar and the slight foam of the warmed milk.    

I sat in my Turtle Inn bathrobe, watching the iguana swim in my pool and imagined a conversation with my host, were he enjoying this cup of coffee with me... “So, Francis (do you mind if I call you Francis?  No?)  Ok... so, Francis, Godfather III... just a little too long don’t you think?”    

OK... so maybe its best if we stick to the topics of food and wine... it’s only polite.   

... 5AM, come on in, the coffee's great... had WAY too much caffeine on this day...

TWO:  Havana, Cuba; the Plaza Hotel

To be honest, the only thing good that I have to say about the Plaza Hotel in the heart of Old Havana is the fact that you can get an espresso, freshly pressed at 4AM.    

Horrid hotel.  Smelled like cheese.  I refused to sleep on the sheets.  The windows wouldn’t close and noise and lack of security kept me awake most of the night.  No sense lying there jumping with every honk of the horn outside my window.   Instead I found myself in the once glorious lobby(that smells less like cheese) watching Spanish music videos drinking Cuban coffee.    

Mmm... Cuban.    

Medium roast, mellow and even.  I’m a light and hot kind of gal.  If the roast is smooth I don’t need sugar... I’m sweet enough already.    

Cuban may be some of my favourite coffee.  It was readily available to take home in bean form and well as fresh ground.   I imported ten pounds of it.  It made my already heavy luggage even heavier and it was worth every penny!  As I write; I can see that big bag of ‘Cubanita, Cafe Arabico en Grano” just sitting there ---tempting me.    

But for the moment, I am occupied by the Honduran.   

... an evening coffee that became a morning friend... the Honduran... *sigh*

THREE:  Roatan, Honduras; the Vintage Pearl

After a big meal, some of the richest food I’d eaten in months on a journey that featured great food... the coffee at the Vintage Pearl Restaurant & Wine Bar was pure Honduran pleasure.  The aroma caught me before I had a chance to reconsider, as another diner enjoyed a coffee with dessert.    

Perhaps one of the greatest surprises in Honduras was its coffee.  Bold without bitterness.  Subtle but not shy. For my month in Roatan it was my daily intoxication.    

Heady.  Full.  A roast that I describe as “serene” in its intensity.   

Oddly, I found it hard to get Honduran coffee in whole bean form and trust me, I looked.  So I had to settle for ground. ‘Buenos Dias, la Muralla Mountain’ coffee is grown and roasted in Roatan.  The five pound bag I brought home is being carefully metered out every morning and when it’s gone I will miss it, terribly.    

It is the comfort of a friend who saw me through tears in paradise and came back home, to see me smile again.    

If there were four cups of coffee the fourth would be... this one... the Honduran, early, light and hot.  Just me and my pink fluffy bathrobe and a blank page. 

Here’s to ritual.  To mornings made tolerable by a warm brew.  To baristas the world over who handover our steaming addiction with a smile.    

May your cup runneth over, may it make your eyes roll back, may a sigh escape you...  

Never underestimate the power of a truly GREAT cup of coffee.

... a little Chez Gypsy coffee moment... HONDURAN!

Deep in the Caribbean in the Bay Islands off Honduras is a living gem – Roatan, Honduras.  Island paradise.  To the north is the island of Utila, backpacker haven, amazing coral, and if we turn east we find Guanja with it's man made channels, they call it the "Little Venice' of the Caribbean.

This is Jacques Cousteau country, a living paradise.  There are few sites that compare to the rare beauty of the Bay Islands both above and beneath the water.

On my “Life from Scratch” tour Honduras was 'revelation'.  After 'rest' in Mexico,' recreation' in Belize, 'resolution' in Cuba; Honduras was both a slap and an embrace.  I arrived with a traveling companion, but in a sudden turn of events I quickly voted him off my island making Roatan officially - mine.

Just as I let go of one thing I found myself letting go of a great deal more...  15 pounds more... in about three weeks.  Honduran spa?  No, intestinal parasite.  I often joke that I’m "only one intestinal parasite away from my goal weight"'.   While thrilled with the results, not exactly a recommended weight loss program (trust me on that).

The Food Gypsy website launched as I locked myself in a small apartment, a sandy 500 meter walk from West Bay Beach, above a tiny strip mall that housed a deli and a coffee shop.  These kind folks fed me (and cared about me) until I was well enough to return to adventure.  And return I did, with enthusiasm.  After all, I had to make up for lost time, in paradise.

In the last two weeks of a six week stay I crammed in as much diving, snorkeling, scooter adventure, beach time and FOOD as I could.

For a real taste of Honduran Cuisine, I took myself on an Adventure in Island Cooking.

The combined effect of turquoise water and sunny skies made it the perfect day in paradise, 28 degrees, palm trees swaying in the breeze; a day for Roatan adventure.  My captain, Billy Conner,  is a strapping island man; with a boat.  It seemed like every time I saw Billy he was wet from mid thigh down, after anchoring his boat and wading to the beach.  Like all Bay Islanders, he is polite to the extreme and was constantly apologizing for soaking wet clothing.

Don't worry... it's an island, my friend, you're gonna' get wet.

Captain Billy Connor... "have you ever been to sea Billy?"

There are a cast of characters that work the beaches of Roatan; West Bay Beach and West End Village, snorkeling tours, fishing excursions.  Groups large and small.  Billy makes his living talking to tourists, selling his chartering business face to face.  He's a big, kind hearted man with an easy smile, a gentle laugh... and a big family.   It’s a living, when business is good.

Billy's clients rave about his trips... the snorkeling is good... he knows where’s he’s going...he will sing to you, tell you stories, he's charming and funny... but LUNCH is amazing. 

"You HAVE to go!" says Mark from Oregon, USA "that was one of the best meals I've had here!"

Why is lunch so special?  Because it’s cooked, at home, by Billy’s Mom...

Mrs. Dolse Conner, our hostess.

Mrs. Dolse Conner is an island cook of wide reputation.  The cook for 25 years on the Palmedo Bay Plantation, she now cooks for Billy's clients and has the daily task of cooking for an extended family that exceeds twenty.  Four generations under one roof.  The laundry hanging to dry under the stilted house is a testament to how busy this woman is in her daily life.

“My Mom is a great woman,"  says Billy as we glide across the water on the way to Mom's after spectacular wreck snorkel on the shallow reef  that rims Roatan "well, I think so but, she my Mom.” 

As we walk along the shaded path that leads from the dock to the village we're greeted by a mother hen with several chicks, free-ranging, a friendly dog or two and a group of chatty kids, running along with us, hamming for photos and leaning out of windows.  We pass a group of men playing dominoes and Billy calls out to the nighbourhood children to introduce me.  I felt a little like a celebrity.

Mrs. Conner is a devout Christian woman and before entering her home, in Crawfish Rock Village (celebrity or not), one slips something more presentable over one’s bathing suit and then one apologizes --- for being wet.  (It's an island thing.)

The salty smell of the ocean in my hair was overpowered by the sweet smell of bread, butter, thyme and curry.  The dining table was positively COVERED with food.  Black beans.  Rice.  Coleslaw. Fresh island snapper, fried in butter with Mrs. Conner’s "special seasoning" and plantain chips ("platanos fritos"), sliced so thin they're translucent.

Plantain chips ("platanos fritos"), so perfect...

The food in Honduras is not so different from what we're familiar with in North America, on the mainland and scatted throughout the islands, you find many of the big chain fast food outlets you're familiar with - KFC, T.G.I Friday's - but in the islands food represents a particular challenge as almost everything is shipped in, making food an expensive commodity.  No more expensive for a tourist (prices are reasonably comparable to other resort locations) but for an Islander making a very modest living, it is an entirely different scenario.

Island food is simple, every meal is accompanied by beans and rice served separately or together (one way to feed a family on pennies a day).  Seafood is a truly essential part of the diet; if you can catch it, it's free.  Living on Roatan, on the protected marine park however, presents it's own challenges.  Those that fish must do so outside the limits of the park.   Endless varieties of fish, shrimp, lobster and of course the versatile Conch are fished in these clear, blue waters.

Yes, this was "lunch"... a post lunch nap was necessary!

Today's snapper was caught in the early hours of the morning, before we set off for adventure, Billy was up fishing for his family.  On this day Mrs Conner's kitchen fed 24 people, including me and several neighbourhood children come to Mrs. Conner's door for meals.   The beans, mixed with onion and garlic, cooked to a thick stew; were tender and packed with favor.  Her coleslaw was perfectly balanced and cold on a hot afternoon.  The snapper was tender and flaky, cooked  in butter and spice.    

It was a magnificent meal, made even better by the key lime pie, made from scratch with fresh island limes and a sweet, delicate meringue in a flaky pastry, still slightly warm.  Pure satisfaction.  The children in the backroom, waiting their turn, peeked around the door's edge, eyeing the pie that remained on the table.  I love pie.  There is something so completely comforting about it that says: "you are welcome here."

After lunch we sat, chatting about food and cooking , me working my magic to worm her secrets out of her.  Dolse Conner is a woman of great pride and few words, but she was more than happy to welcome me into her kitchen.   (I respect a cook with five pressure cookers.)  Each day she bakes enough bread to feed the many shining faces that come to her home.  Dinner will be a pork stew (marinading in spices in the fridge) with black beans and rice.

"What’s that gooey concoction in the corner?" I asked with one eyebrow up.

"That be my Guava Cake" said Mrs Conner with a smile and a nod.

Made with ground guava, flour, sugar, eggs and spices,  it's more of a 'pudding' than a 'cake' reminds me of "Pone" or Sweet Potato Pudding that I loved so much in Belize, truly a Caribbean specialty.  She immediately cuts me a piece.  I just ate a HUGE slice of Key Lime Pie, how can I possibly turn down Guava Cake – right?   That would be impolite.

Mmmmmm... guava cake!

When pressed will she reveal her ‘secret recipe’ for the fish?  I have been known to have a reasonably accurate pallet, often being able to replicate a dish after tasting it once... so I take a stab at the ingredients...“Thyme, curry (or cumin), salt, basil?”  Mrs. Conner laughs.  “No.  No curry... no thyme... no basil...” Seriously, not one?   Wow bad day for the taste buds.   Did that horrid little parasite ruin my palette?

She leaves the room to jot down her recipe, while Billy and I chat.  Her feathery writing on a scrap of paper reveals her secrets the first line reads:  "half a cup of butter" (I love this woman) and then I smile knowing that my taste buds are just fine; her key ingredient is a seasoning combination very popular in the Caribbean called 'All Seasoning'.

And what’s in 'All Seasoning'?   I've already sluthed the local spices so I know:  thyme, cumin, salt, basil and MSG.  Ha.   Nailed it.

A day in the kitchen, is worth two on the beach.  A slice of life on an island paradise that became home for a time, and a rare privilege to be a part of Mrs. Conner's extended family.  And how was the  Guava Cake?   Sweet and sticky, served ice cold for breakfast along with a steaming cup of hot Honduran coffee.  

Island living, is sweet.

GYPSY TRAVEL NOTE:  Wondering how you might enjoy Mrs. Conner's fine home cooking on your next trip to Roatan?   Sorry, no website, phone numbers could change at a moment's notice (IF the phones are working) so you're just going to have to rock it old school... take yourself to West Bay Beach, have a cocktail at the Thirsty Turtle (Bananarama Diving Resort) and ask the bartender where to find Billy Conner.  If you're lucky, he might be singing a song or two that night with the band... and he'll probably be wet... but he'll apologize for that.  Tell him I sent you and,  give my best to Mrs Conner!,

For more wonderful images of Roatan, check out our Facebook photos  or our Flickr feed. CHEERS!  Gypsy

The long awaited fries...

It was an adventure just getting there, two hours by scooter winding over the winding, pot-hole ridden jungle roads of Roatan, down a steep gravel road rutted by recent rains, through the fishing village of Jonesville, to the boat dock, where you take a water taxi to the floating restaurant known as “The Hole in the Wall”.   

Whew.  I'm beat just writing that.      

Open for lunch and dinner, famous for their all-you-can eat BBQ Sunday dinners and Lobster Fridays, the Hole in the Wall, along with one gift shop is the only concession to tourism in Jonesville and everyone is more than willing to point you in the right direction or take you there by boat.     

The floating, open air dock pushed up against the other side of the bay on Blue Rock perches on the edge of the mangroves where the pirates that once inhabited Roatan would simply... disappear... the Hole in the Wall is the perfect place for a cold beer, a hand rolled cigar (compliments of your host, Bob), you can write your name on the wall, like many before you or contribute a t-shirt or licence plate to the colourful decor.    

Dam if they didn’t have rather a nice Chilean sauvignon-blanc, first decent wine I've seen in weeks, it's been tequila in Mexico, rum in Belize and Cuba, now in the heart of pirate country and I'm sipping a lovely white with club soda on the side.  "Arrrr... wench, bring me me spritzer !"  No?  Not making the pirate cut?  Well, there's always tomorrow.     

 
My friend Texas,  raved about the cigar. Still moist and fresh... he went so far as to give it the “great smoke” award besting even the Cubans he’d just bought days earlier. “A free cigar in the middle of nowhere Honduras and it’s the best cigar I’ve smoked in years.”  My.  High praise indeed.     

But... where’s our food?     

It was also, I thought, the perfect place for a Blue Cheese Burger. Juicy, tangy, salty... it was a gorgeous burger.  Should be, it took forever. In fact I went to ask about our food after about say - an hour - and was told that they had run out of potatoes and had to go get some for our fries.  (Ooooookkkkkkkk.) Which begs the question... where did they go for potatoes?  One of life’s great mysteries.  Good thing the fries rocked. Crispy shoestring fries. Salty. Real Heinz ketchup. Thought I was going to go out of my mind.     

Did I mention that hunger had set in on the journey? I could have eaten the hind leg off a donkey.     

Done right, really there’s nothing quite like a great burger it is my great indulgence, in fact by now if you've been reading along you're wondering "Geez Gypsy, ever eat anything OTHER than burgers as you traveled central America?"  Hell yea!  We'll get to that.  But THIS was perfect.      

Seasoned beef, creamy blue cheese dipping down my hands...  almost didn't need extra goo.  (but I had it anyway) The menu is deeper than just burgers and sandwiches - giant salads, seafood, fried chicken, pasta, tacos - islanders rave about the lobster and the BBQ on Fridays and Sundays (the mear mention of it made me crave ribs). Perhaps I’ll have to make another trip to The Hole in the Wall... on a Sunday.  Reasons to return to Roatan... like I needed any.     

An adventure I won't soon forget. 
http://roatanholeinthewall.com/     

Cripsy & Sweet Coconut Shrimp

Anyway, like I was sayin', shrimp is the fruit of the sea. You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, saute it. Dey's uh, shrimp-kabobs, shrimp creole, shrimp gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried. There's pineapple shrimp, lemon shrimp, coconut shrimp, pepper shrimp, shrimp soup, shrimp stew, shrimp salad, shrimp and potatoes, shrimp burger, shrimp sandwich. That- that's about it.   ~ Bubba, Forrest Gump

Recipe by reader request.  The fruit of the sea... coconut-ed.  So easy.  Try it at home.  Compliments of The Thirsty Turtle, Bananarama Dive's Eco Friendly Resort - West Bay Beach, Roatan Honduras.  Love the dipping sauce, the added coconut makes it sweet and slightly chewy.  EAT! 

Coconut Shrimp

1 cup flat beer
1 cup self-rising flour
2 cups sweetened coconut flakes
2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
20 jumbo shrimp
coconut oil for frying

Orange Marmalade Dipping Sauce (see below)

Method:

1. Combine flour, beer, 1/2 cup coconut flakes, sugar and salt in a medium bowl. Mix well with electric mixer, cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.
2. Prepare the shrimp by deveining and peeling off the shell back to the tail. Leave the last segment of the shell plus the tail as a handle.
3. When the batter is ready, preheat oil in a deep pot or deep fryer to about 350 degrees F. Use enough oil to cover the shrimp completely.
4. Pour the remainder of the coconut into a shallow bowl. Be sure the shrimp are dry before battering. Sprinkle each shrimp lightly with paprika before dipping in batter. Dip one shrimp at a time into the batter, coating generously.
5. Drop the battered shrimp into the coconut and roll it around till well covered. Fry four shrimp at a time for 2-3 minutes or until shrimp become golden brown. Flip the shrimp over halfway thru cooking time. Drain on paper towels.
6. Serve with one of the Marmalade Sauce (below) on the side. Serves 4.

Orange Marmalade Dipping Sauce

1/2 cup orange marmalade
2 teaspoons stone-ground mustard
1 teaspoon prepared horseradish

2 teaspoons shredded unsweetened coconut
1 dash of salt

Method:

1. Combine in a small bowl and refrigerate for at least one hour.

http://www.bananaramadive.com/

The trinket men arrive by bus just after 6 AM, hauling large beige sacks on their shoulders stuffed with tourist swag; jewellery, wooden bowls, snorkelling gear, t-shirts and fridge magnets, to set up shop on the beach for the day.

The sun is thin, rising behind the mountains to the east that are the ridgeback of Roatan, a 40 mile stretch of land surrounded by reefs. The home beach - West Bay Beach is a sunset beach, shaded by the mountain in the early morning, it makes it a cool walk, swim or... run.  It has been my practice for the last two weeks to go to the beach as the sun comes up and... move.

Before the ATVs churn the sand, the beach men emerge with long rakes and divers load tanks into waiting boats - life begins anew with the ocean at our feet.

It’s simple. I like simple.  Actually, it’s easy I really like... make things as easy as possible.
There is elegance in island life. A simple rhythm that finds itself in 12 hours days balanced by 12 hour nights. Equality.

For the last 3 months I’ve been asking myself the same question: “Am I brave enough to move... to paradise?”

When I moved to Nova Scotia I often joked that it was as far as I could go, without leaving the country.   Now, with the flood gates open to new opportunity, do I know what I want?

Yes. It’s a simple life... well lived.  A life filled with joy and love (a decent kitchen) and... it’s warm.

Last night I barely slept, tossing in thoughts that make me uncomfortable, dreams that made me sweat. Rather than run or walk... this was a morning for the water. Floating on my back in this crystal clear bay of the Caribbean I heard a new question...

“Can you live without this?”

New answer. No. No, I cannot live without the life I’ve found. I need it.
It's a part of me, the part of me that longs for quiet and relaxed... and fun. The part that naps in hammocks and cries at long distance commercials.

My heart is at home...

Can I live without a certain amount of first world comfort to live in a setting that brings me great peace? Yes. Can I live without warm waters and sandy beaches? No. Does it have to be this beach? No. (I think I prefer to move around a bit, travel light - a year here, 4 months there, and 6 months there - Atlantic, Pacific, Indian, and Mediterranean... so much world to be explored.)

On Saturday I depart for Mexico, and then back again to Canada. I leave behind... a little over ten pounds which fell off me in two weeks, like stepping out of a fat suit. I leave behind... a shell necklace, a gift from an artisan in Cuba, it broke on the terra cotta floor after a day in the ocean, I think it’s best to give it back to the waters it came from... a gift to a new life.

One I just can’t live without.

Traveling the Caribbean and Central America has been a journey of diverse flavour combinations, ingredients remain the same but how they’re put together is quite different.  Let’s talk about hot sauce for a moment; from the intense heat and flavours of Mexico to the milder side of spice in Cuba, to the amplified heat of Belize and finally the sweet, tangy chili of Honduras;  a little tour of chili-sauce from one who LOVES it hot.

When I say hot, I mean hot.  Not burn your eyes out, can’t see for days hot – that’s too macho for me.  When at home my standard chilli sauce is Frank’s Red Hot.  My favourite way to get the burn going first thing in the morning on eggs, or to bring some heat to a wing is Frank's.  Also in the pantry – as a staple – Tabasco.  (Come on, you have to have Tabasco, how else do you make a good Bloody Mary?!)

A couple of Asian chili sauces I just can’t live without:  Sriracha hot sauce ( a true chef’s hot sauce, some have created recipes around this one ingredient), Sambal Oelek with it's tangy lime taste and bright red colour, a great way to kick up a BBQ sauce or pork dish, and ‘hot oil’ or ‘chili oil’, which is simply dried chili infused oil... a key ingredient in Szechwan cooking and my favourite dipping sauce for a pork dumpling. 

So it was natural for me to pick up every single hot sauce along the way and give it a go.  I attribute the natural heat of the capsaicin (the chemical in chilis which give them that ‘burn’) to helping me adjust to more tropical weather. 

If I’m hot on the inside, I’m cooler on the outside. 

Also a great way to chase away anything that should not be living in your guts... kill it with hot sauce.  The one time I got sick, in Honduras, I am making the wild (unscientifically based) claim that it was due to insufficient burn in their local chili-sauce which is all together too mild - but we'll get to that. 

First, let’s lay down some guidelines on hot sauce and what’s in them so we can better qualify the assessment of sauces which have been delighting my palate.  There are thousands of hot sauces all with their own recipe. 

A chili sauce is very easy to make -  the basic ingredients are chilies, vinegar/citrus, sugar and water.  It’s the additional ingredients - tomatoes, carrots, onions, garlic and various other vegetables and seasonings – that give a chilli sauce its flavour, it’s not just about heat.  In fact, the true value if a great hot sauce is that... it tastes good. 

It should accentuate and enhance... not remove your nose hairs.

That heat we talk about in chili sauce is measured by the Scoville Scale. The Scoville Scale number indicates how many times something must be diluted with an equal volume of water until people can no longer feel any sensation from the capsaicin. The hottest hot sauce scientifically possible is one rated at 16,000,000 SHU (Scoville Heat Units), which is pure capsaicin and frankly dangerous.  By comparison, pepper spray used in law enforcement is 5,000,000 SHU.   

The lowest pepper on the scale is the sweet bell pepper with no capsaicin, all the way up to Naga Jolokia which is measured at 860,000 SHU. 

Caveat:  Missing from this list are other sources of heat, like ginger or horseradish and piperline (black pepper) – a topic for a different day. 

Most of my favourite sauces rate around the 2,500 SHU mark (Tabasco, Sriracha) and Frank’s Red Hot, Original is quite low at 450 SHU... and that’s the point.  They have flavour and diversity.  They add to, as opposed to distract from, the food itself.

In Mexico I became a big fan of the habanero pepper.   All sauces habanero had to be tried.  My favourites were the homemade stinking-hot but packed with flavour sauces at the little roadside taco stands in the Yucatan.  I'd be over the moon asking what brand and they say "oh, no, my mama she make this."   Impossible to get a recipe and each batch is different, so you enjoy it while you can (hot tip: If you eat enough of it they will put some in a container for you "to go"!   And they think it's pretty funny when you squirt it straight in your mouth.) 

From the bottle in Mexico (when not scamming grandma's-firey-roadside-habanero-sauce) I like either El Diablo's Habanero or Melinda's Chili Habanero (double XX).  Both have great heat without requiring fire extinguishers and accent a plate of enchiladas without killing the flavor of a warm, soft tortilla.  Even MacDonald's has their own Jalapeño sauce in Mexico. 

In Belize I fell in love with Marie Sharp.  Not because she has her own island off the coast of Dangriga, but because her extensive selection of hot sauces (and preserves) made the most bland rice and beans more fun.

Among them...  Marie Sharp's Mild Habanero Hot Sauce a sweet carrot-based blend with key lime juice, achieves the perfect balance between flavour and heat.  And Marie Sharp's Hot Nopal/Prickly Pear Green Habanero Hot Sauce a source of... fibre (what?!  who knew?!) the first of its kind with a sharp green undertone.

Several bottles of Marie Sharp's found their way home with me... and more followed by mail.  The Mild Habanero is a favourite with chicken, brush it on at the final stages of BBQ or just dip it in a little tub of the stuff! 

Marie Sharp's Hot Nopal Prickly Green Pear is amazing with eggs.  Love it with tacos and tamales.  High in heat, high in flavour and high in fibre (who knew!)... the perfect `wake you up' pepper sauce.

Cuba had nothing to offer in the way of indigenous hot sauces, instead there was Tabasco on every table.  When politics shift and Cuba opens up, it will be interesting to see what wonderful chili sauces might emerge with a European and African influence.  The prefect Cuban chili sauce no doubt exists, bubbling away on someone's back burner. 

Honduras is yet to be completely explored, but so far...

My friend, Texas, a lover of fiery foods takes one taste of Schilos Chili Picante at a little restaurant in West End Village, Roatan and says “I don't think they know who they're dealing with... I could use this as eye drops."  His way of saying... not so hot.  So true, I’ve chewed cinnamon gum with more zing.

Where I could see this sauce in the kitchen is near the grill, particular with a soft, fleshy fish or as a glaze when grilling fruit – cantaloupe or peaches – served with ice cream. Sweet, but lower on the scale than Frank's, it makes me want hot sauce, on my hot sauce.  But then, I like it hot.

It must have been the time spent in Cuba on the Hemingway trail that led me to this story...  

"In the 1920s, Ernest Hemingway learned something about "bad luck" and getting kicked by life. He was struggling to make his mark as an author when disaster struck.  

He lost a suitcase containing all his manuscripts -- many stories he'd polished to jewel-like perfection -- which he'd been planning to publish in a book.  

According to Denis Waitley in his book, Empires of the Mind, the devastated Hemingway couldn't conceive of redoing his work. All those months of ardurous writing were simply wasted.  

He lamented his predicament to friend and poet Ezra Pound who called it a stroke of good fortune! Pound assured Hemingway that when he rewrote the stories, he would forget the weak parts; only the best material would reappear.  

He encouraged the aspiring author to start over with a sense of optimism and confidence. Hemingway did rewrite the stories and eventually became a major figure in American literature."  

Forget the weak parts... and only the best remains.  I'm down with that.  

This past month I have been traveling in a bubble of what I can only call a "protected ambivalence" as I journey through the Caribbean and Central America. Unattached to any one outcome, I find more positive experiences come my way by simply saying "yes", even when it looks like 'bad luck'.  

“Yes, I feel stalled on the website and overwhelmed by the volume of stuff that I simply don’t know.  (Yes, Word Press is kicking my ass!)  Yes, I will re-write, revise, revisit and make it better.  Yes… I believe in me.  Yes.  I can do it!”  

"Yes."  It's a great word.  It allows for MORE.  

To some these last few months of my life look like indecision, to others it looks irresponsible.  To me it just feels... right.  So many choices. Why not try something new?  Taste something new?  Learn something... new?  Start fresh?  Say "yes".
Follow the bliss.  

Ride the wave and let it be amazing.  I am determined.  

Texas travels on, on to Untila and a new adventure.  I knuckle under, just me and the page in a little apartment a block off the beach. I’ve come to call this 'home'.  Letting all the weak parts fall away as I re-write my (wonderful) life and... only the best remains. Thanks Papa!  

Yes, I am… the Food Gypsy.

Roatan hits me like a heat wave.  The island itself enchants and as we land sweet tropical air fills me with ease, it was a bumpy ride.  We arrive after a full day in transit.  Our last night in Havana was supposed to be a sexy romp in old Havana but a stay at the Historic Plaza Hotel can put anyone off “sexy”.        

It smelled like cheese, and not in a good way.  We changed rooms and while that was marginally better we slept little and rested less.  A hot sticky morning in Havana and a backroom adventure in Cuban cigars had me reeling and the long day of travel ahead did little to improve our collective moods.        

Delays.  Overnight in Costa Rica, which was a pleasant surprise (highlighted by “Denny’s” – amazing what you miss while abroad) which ended the as we boarded the plane we were told one of our pieces of luggage would not be flying with us.   So much for fun.       

Then there was the issue of a 'dangerous' football, which had to be deflated before take off - or it won't fly.  Never mind that they flew us there... which seems not to matter to TACA Airlines.  (yes, that's TACA Airlines)       

In hindsight we should have refused to board the plane, straightened things out with the ground crew and traveled on the next flight.  But off we went, back tracking through El Salvador it was four countries in two days.  The beaches of Roatan, Honduras were a welcome sight, one we needed, as my traveling companion Texas, was in a foul mood as he filed paperwork on his missing bag containing, well... his life.       

“Why are you being so NICE?!” he snaps at me.  Sometimes I think he forgets I’m Canadian.        

We have to be nice, or they take away our passport.   I let him be the bad cop.  It’s working.        

When we leave the airport we have three bags instead of four.  We have no local currency.  We have no reservations and no idea what so ever.  This is not how I usually travel.  I like to know.  I love to plan.  “Winging it”... it’s my new thing.  Somehow we wind up on the most beautiful stretch of beach in the most perfect place, I feel like family here.  (West Bay Beach, Bananarama Resort & Dive Shop...)       

Clean clothes are found for Texas, as he has only what he has on.  The kindness of strangers never ceases to amaze and Texas goes to find his Zen in the deep.  As a diving professional, he’s always happiest when he’s wet.         

There is a feeling of everything working out, of the road that was bumpy being smooth once again.  Floating in the Caribbean, buoyed by salt water I lean back and float, reminded how well supported I am by Universal forces.        

Think I’ll stay for a while, make some new friends.  Let everything work itself out.  (I HAVE INTERNET!)       

It’s not such a bad place to be.