The Fabulous Food Babe: Suburban New York Living, Eating, Cooking, and Cussing

On Barbados, they called December 31st “Old Year’s Day.” That’s what the cabbie told us, and we choose to believe him.

The photo of Christmas Day is from my beach chair at sunrise. Yes, those are my toes. I was gazing up at the blue sky and thinking that New York seemed very far away.

Mr. Foodbabe, the FoodBambinos and myself, spent a blissful week on Barbados. I’m not trying to be dramatic; it was amazin’. Perfect weather, a villa fifteen steps from a quiet beach, great food, and worth the aggravation of coming through Newark at 6:15 in the morning and having to participate in the sorriest excuse for an airport evacuation I’ve ever seen.

Best meal: the Christmas Morning french toast I made.

Second Best Meal: The Cliff, just Mr. Foodbabe and me.

Third Best Meal: La Mer, all four of us.

Notables: Salad — all vegetables were local; pork and chicken were local, too; a chicken roti from The Roti House; swinging by the Chefette to see how Bajams do fast food (pretty well); eating more flying fish, dorado and dolphin pulled straight from the water than I’ve had in a long time. Most notable though is the barracuda on the menu. Inside the reef it’s poisonous; it’s something I have never trusted unless I know the fisherman. Personally.

Liquid Nourishment: Mount Gay Very Old Rum, Fellernum (sp?) syrup, Banks beer (or Carib if you want something with less of a bite).

Condiments: Delish hot sauce (the yellow stuff, WOOOO!). I also brought home a few bottles of Rasta’s Revenge hot sauce, as well as both varieties of Delish and some Coconut jam. Sorry, the rum cake’s already gone.

Souvenirs: Walking stick for Secondo, Shot Glass for Firstie, t-shirts for all the guys (”The Beatings Will Stop when Morale Improves.”) A hat for me (”Barbados: Scurvy-Free”). Pottery and earrings and five extra pounds, and worth every bit.

Mr. Foodbabe played Sandy Lane one day and loved it. He called the Green Monkey course to see about playing; they said for non-hotel guests, the greens fee was $4000. I asked when his tee time was and he assured me that while some golf crazies pay this, he isn’t that crazy. Yet.

Mr. Foodbabe and Secondo went diving a couple of days, and out fishing one day. Secondo caught a 40-pound Wahoo that they gave to the crew. Firstie spent his mornings asleep and afternoons with a cigar and a Banks beer on the beach.

On the flights from Atlanta to Barbados and back, we had the same two guys from San Diego seated behind us. Absolutely charming, they were, and first timers too. Our neighbors at the villa were two British couples who told us there were celebrities on the island, but mostly British celebs (Simon Cowell, for one). We didn’t see him, but I saw CCH Pounder in a St. Lucia t-shirt, getting a latte at the airport cafe.

It was hard to come home. It was quiet on the West Coast where we stayed, but the boys were fine with it. We missed Jean-Luc, but a beach dog hung out with us and curled up under my chair. I didn’t miss much else, though.