It was just a few days ago that E and I were eating lobster for two with a side of grilled potato, rice and a bottle of rose on a remote island in the Caribbean. 

The coolest day of our vacation was when E chartered a boat to take us around a few islands in the Grenadines (think places Johnny Depp ended up washed ashore in “Pirates of the Caribbean”). We hopped around to a place called Saltwhistle Bay on the island of Mayreau, where a few rum shacks and gift stands selling hand woven scarves and bracelets sat right on the shore.  A super chill island native named Kevin served us two strong rum punches and his other super chill friend whose name I forgot had conch stew with peppers, tomatoes and rice cooking in a large pot on a makeshift grill. The buddy scooped out a large portion of the piping hot risotto like dish onto a plate for E and I.  It was perfectly done, and slightly sweet. “That’s the coconut milk,” the chef told us. 

After some fun conversation with Kevin and his boys—he claimed Oprah Winfrey had visited the small island recently—we hopped back in the boat and shuttled over to Tobago Cays, where a functioning restaurant comprised of a few folding tables, stock pots and platters as the kitchen was set up by local fisherman. They had a full lobster lunch waiting for us, with rice and garlic potatoes, and a tablecloth laid out on a picnic table near a tree. The lobster was fresh, perfectly grilled, and honestly I’m not sure I’ll ever have lobster this tasty in any place reachable by plane.

After lunch, E and I went snorkeling in the bay and swam over a sea of sea urchin settled on the ocean floor. We walked back along the beach, and gazed at the catamarans parked in the bay, wondering where they were headed next. We ate like kings that day–Saturday. Just a week ago.

Tomorrow, we’re expecting another snowstorm. On the first day of spring. Sigh.

by