Beach Fish

Fish and Hot Sauce

On the coast of Ecuador fisherman pry open saucer-sized oysters, douse them with lime and  hot pepper sauce and hand the obscene creatures over for you to suck down, the exquisite burst of wild flavor filling your mouth as the sea nectar coats your throat and you ponder whether these, finally, will be the warm water oysters to do you in -- blood poisoning would almost be worth it. On that same Pacific coast almost every little thatched shack serves arroz con mariscos, a dish of rice, mussels, shrimp, squid and chunky white fish made yellow and thick with palm oil, and flecked with garlic and tomato. Pour hot peppers in vinegar over the top and you will sleep well all night to the sound of the waves. A few days spent on this coast will have you hoping for a repeat food performance each time you land on a warm Third World coast. Mt. Irvine Beach, on the Caribbean coast of Tobago, about 20 miles offshore from Venezuela, is just such a place. The sand slopes sharply down from the palm trees to pristine water where large mantas hide just under the white sand. Rastafarians, fishermen, French bohemians and others loll about, slowly working up an appetite for the outdoor cafe. It looks so promising. The shark and bake (Tobagonian biscuit bread served with fried fish), shrimps and rice, flying fish sandwiches and homemade ginger beer on the menu all promise a soulful meal doused with hot pepper sauce. But the reality is far more, shall we say, real. They’re out of shark and bake. The shrimp and rice arrives cold and pink and gritty from sand. And the ginger beer is still brewing. Oh Lord. Rescued only by flying fish on a roll with lettuce and hot sauce, each bite a soothing new memory of wonderful, basic flavors. Washing it down with a ginseng soda I asked myself this question: As good as Ecuador? To tell you the truth, I have to say yes. I’m glad I came.