5 Feb 2007

Crays with Attitude

DESPITE MOLESTATION by a fullsome Barbadienne at the un-originally titled 'Bananas' night club, I have now returned to ice-cold Blighty from the sun-stoked Grenadines paradise where not one breathaliser inhabits police square footage. Indeed whilst partaking of "one for the road", on the road, I was reprimanded by the boys in blue (and red stripes) for parking off piste rather for the fact I was clasping a cold beer in wheel hand. Naturally I jest(!)
On arrival to the villa at the couth L'anse Aux Epines district, mein hosts filled my father and I with iron fists of Rum Punch produced from 142 proof Antiguan spirit (I have samples for those sports brave enough to attempt).
Indeed I remember ladelling this very mixture at my nineteenth towards tuxeedoed-teens who ultimately balked at the industrial ethanol aromas dancing high like wailing banshees (rather than the frail, pailing sort) from a deep crystal bowl of this unfreezable concoction. Perhaps appropriate for an island where health and safety law dictates a yellowing clipboard as an acceptible sunshield on a Tobago-bound flight?
More brisk, crisp and island sun-apposite were the ampley-served, "happy" tasting Carib beers, brewed on the island and un-capped from 09:30, "Carib time!"
A challenge posed towards Grenadian, Jerry, to identify Absolut vodka amongst a cranberry mixer blind test (the line-up: Absolut, Stolichnaya, Nuage and Smirnoff Red) failed miserably, but revealed the French-bottled Nuage as most appealing, befriendable and slightly sweet of the quartet.
Walking Guide Telfor introduced us to succulent, white-fleshed, raw cocoa fruit, chief component of the 71p/c Grenada Cocoa Company slabs from a factory harnessing solar power.

En-route, it was advised we could, if we wished, 'Wine, Dine, Dance, Overnight and Get Married' at a local resort. Having myself become untangled from a mariage proposition late last year, this carried ironic undertones.
Refreshing coconut water taken from God's hairy recepticle teased and tousled the spirit at the main market. Sea moss, a milky non-alcoholic cocktail served at the Northern Restaurant, also helped.
The best eatery however was The Aquarium, serving oversized crays with attitude, followed by The Red Crab.
Gary Rhodes' Calabash did not however pleasure me with its relentlessly internationally banal offerings such as Waldorf salad and Mushroom pancakes.
Incidentally I was offered a job at a wine importer on the island. A Thousand Island thoughts come to the fore?